The Fifth Empire of Man

“Anything I can do?” she said.

“You’ve done enough.”

Elaina snorted. “All I did was walk aboard.”

“I know.” Keelin looked like he was about to say more, but he shook his head. “Don’t go giving any orders aboard my ship, Elaina.”

She grinned mischievously. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Part 3 – X Marks the Spot

The war will awaken old enemies said the Oracle

Got plenty of those to go around said Drake

She will come for you said the Oracle

Chapter 30 - Fortune

The ship drifted on its anchorage. Clouds covered the sky, and the moon was little more than a sliver, providing almost no light. Drake ordered every lantern on the ship doused. It wasn’t the first time the crew of the Fortune had worked in near complete darkness, and they were brutally efficient in such circumstances.

The ship creaked and the waves lapped against her hull. Drake caught a whisper on the breeze as one of his crew relayed orders to another, but there was little other sound. Silence, or as near to it as possible, was as important as dousing the lanterns. Sound had an odd way of travelling across water, and Drake didn’t want any hint of their presence reaching land.

He strained his eyes, but all he could make out of the islands was a dark blur. They were just around the headland of the bay, and the other ship was anchored close to the beach to obscure their presence. The Drurr didn’t want anyone to know they were there. But Drake knew. He’d sent ships all over the isles, scouring his kingdom for their presence, and now he’d found them on Churnon.

New Sev’relain was once again under the protection of Captain Khan. Drake had wanted to bring the giant pirate along for the slaughter, but Khan’s ship was a leviathan, larger than any other that had ever been built. It didn’t lend itself to subtlety and stealth. Besides, Drake needed to leave someone of authority in charge, and there was no one in the isles more feared and respected these days than T’ruck Khan. The good folk of the isles, along with the pirates, had branded the captain a hero for his exploits.

Beck stood beside Drake at the railing, silent as the rest of the crew. Drake felt her presence keenly. Since their night in her cabin, which now seemed so long ago, she’d been refusing to let it happen again, and Drake couldn’t figure out why. The Arbiter was mostly healed from her brush with death back at the battle for New Sev’relain. Her right hand still trembled a little, but apart from that she seemed healthy enough.

He glanced at her. With her hair cut short after the fire and squashed down under a tricorn hat, her plain brown trousers and bleached-bone blouse, and the leather jerkin holding six of her pistols, Beck looked more pirate than witch hunter. Drake felt himself stir, and had to look away lest he make an unwanted advance. The situation was even more maddening now she’d given him a taste. He wanted more, and he was fairly damned certain she did too, but the woman was holding back and he couldn’t fathom why.

“Lower the boats.” Drake’s voice was a quiet growl. Princess scurried away to relay his orders, and the Fortune’s dingies were lowered into the water silently.

“Is this wise?” Beck whispered. “We don’t even know why they’re on this island.”

“I know,” Drake said. He wondered how many men he would lose to the monsters.

“As much as I enjoy your cryptic crap, Drake, would you mind filling me in?”

Drake ground his teeth together and let out a sigh. If he told his crew what they were likely to come up against, they’d be far less likely to follow his orders to go ashore, but if they didn’t know how to deal with it, they would all likely die fighting it.

“When we sailed past the bay earlier, did you use one of your blessings to catch a glimpse of the ship there?” he said.

“Yes,” Beck said. “I couldn’t see it well though.”

“Did you happen to spot the two big wheels on either side of the ship?”

Drake saw Beck’s hat move up and down next to him in the darkness.

“Water wheels,” he said. “The Drurr fit them to their corsairs. They use them sort of like oars when they need to chase ships down. Those wheels are lowered into the water and then turned real fast, and it speeds up the corsair a little.”

“How do they turn the wheels?”

Drake sighed. “With trolls.”

The silence from Beck was telling. Drake doubted anyone else on board had ever even seen a troll, let alone fought one. There was no way his crew of pirates with their cheap swords and short bows could ever kill one of the monsters.

“You have a plan?” Beck said.

“I always have a plan, Arbiter.”

The Drurr camp was set up in a rocky clearing just beyond the beach. They had a fire good and going, and Drake could smell the faint odour of roasted shrooms in the air. It brought back a mess of memories that he’d rather have forgotten, and he forced them away, concentrating instead on the task at hand.

There were tents arranged around the rocky clearing, and many of the Drurr would be inside them. Most of the bastards couldn’t abide the sight of the sky when they were trying to sleep. Their race had spent so long underground that there were generations born, grown old, and died without ever seeing the sun, moon, or stars.

Drake sent ten men into the water under the command of Ying. They would paddle quietly up to the corsair and wait for Drake’s signal, then climb aboard and murder the crew left there as quietly as possible. Drake hoped the troll wasn’t there, or those ten men were already lost. He was almost certain the monster would be on the island somewhere; it was most likely why the Drurr had stopped on Churnon. There was only so long a troll would remain cooped up aboard a ship without snapping and instigating a rampage. Every few weeks Drurr corsairs would stop at an island and let their trolls roam free for a few days to sate their natural desire for destruction.

The rest of the crew crept slowly along the treeline, keeping as low and silent as possible. Drurr vision excelled in the darkness, but if they weren’t expecting an attack, they wouldn’t think to look for one. The pirates moved closer, and Drake heard voices on the wind.

Thirty men had accompanied Drake and Arbiter Beck on the island assault, and he wagered the numbers would be more or less even. He hoped the element of surprise would count for another thirty.

The smell of roasting shrooms was stronger now, taking Drake back to the great caverns full of the rubbery fungus beneath Darkhold. He shuddered, and a moment later found Beck’s hand on his shoulder. She gave him a reassuring nod – and he did feel reassured with an Arbiter by his side.

From what he could tell, there were few Drurr on watch. No doubt some were out foraging while others were asleep, and more still were sitting around a fire sharing stories, jokes, and songs. The Drurr were very similar to humans in that regard and, Drake had to admit, in many others too.

He nodded to Beck, and the Arbiter took a small chip of wood from her pocket and snapped it between her thumb and forefinger. Out in the bay, Ying was holding a similar chip, and that piece would respond by snapping in half to signal the attack.

Drake’s group waited. It would take some time for the pirates in the water to scale the side of the Drurr corsair and start murdering any and all folk they found aboard. They waited some more. He didn’t bother keeping track of time; it would only make the wait more nerve-wracking.

The sound of a warning shout cut fatally short drifted in across the water, and then they could wait no more. Drake signalled his group and the pirates emerged from the trees, moving as stealthily as possible.

Drake was at the front, with Beck just a crouched step behind him. The first of the Drurr to notice them was dozing with his back against a boulder. No doubt the fool was one of the watch and was taking the opportunity to catch up on some sleep. He woke with a start as Drake moved past him, but the shout was killed in his throat by cold steel. Drake kept moving.

They were still a good ten feet from the first tent when a warning shout went up to Drake’s left – either one of the watch they’d missed or just plain bad luck. There was no sense in staying quiet any more; now they had to kill as many as they could before their enemy realised exactly what was happening.

With a roar, Drake launched into a charge, his sword drawn. He leapt over a rock and slashed at the back of the nearest tent, cutting a wide arc through the light cloth, and stumbled through only to trip over something and find himself sprawled in the sand with a rock for a pillow. Drake rolled to his feet just as Beck leapt through the slash behind him, missing both the bed that had sent Drake crashing to the ground and the Drurr lying on it. The Arbiter jumped up onto the bed and crushed the Drurr’s skull with the butt of her pistol even as the man tried to rise. Something heavy crashed into Drake and he found himself flat on his back in the sand again, this time with a half-naked Drurr straddling him and aiming a punch at his face. Drake threw his head to the side and the woman punched only the well-placed rock. As she pulled back her hand with a howl, Drake snatched the dagger from his belt and thrust it into her stomach once, twice, and a third time for good luck. Hot red blood washed down upon his chest, and Drake heaved the wailing Drurr aside and snatched his sword from the sand.

By the time Drake regained his feet, Beck had a second dead Drurr on the ground and a third on its way down to join the others. A fifth Drurr turned and ran; Drake had no intention of letting any of the bastards get away, and he rushed after the woman.

The Drurr was bolting at a full sprint, and Drake was losing distance even moving as fast as he could. He passed small skirmishes and bodies lying in the bloody sand. He passed tents and cook fires and even a turagar, one of the small, blind, dog-like pets that some Drurr kept.

Slowing to a stop, Drake had to admit that he’d lost the fleeing Drurr, and he leaned forwards with his hands on his knees to catch his breath. It wasn’t really his fault; Rag, the giant centipede, was wrapped around his waist like a heavy belt, and it was slowing him down. That the creature seemed unperturbed by Drake’s recent rolling in the sand, and by the smell of battle and blood around him, gave him some cause for concern, but he had little time to dwell on it. Three Drurr were closing in on him fast.

Two of them fanned out to flank him, while the biggest of the three, a man wearing leather armour and wielding two curved scimitars, came straight on.

Drake held up his left hand to show an open palm. “I’m here to help,” he spat in the chaotic jumble that was the Drurr language. It had the desired effect. The three Drurr faltered in their advance, obviously unsure what to think of the human who could speak their tongue. Drake capitalised on their hesitation.

Leaping at the Drurr in front of him, he aimed a sword slash at the man’s face. The Drurr stumbled backwards and away, and the strike missed. Drake turned and launched himself towards one of the others.

He slashed twice at the smaller man, who had a look of rampant terror in his black eyes. The first strike crushed through the Drurr’s weak defence, sending the fool’s sword sailing away through the air. The second slash laid open his belly, spilling intestines onto the sand. Drake danced away, turning to get the two remaining Drurr in front of him before they attacked.

The scimitar-wielding Drurr started forwards, then stopped. Drake saw the feint coming and blocked the attack from his other enemy.

“Rag,” he shouted, hoping the beasty would respond to its name.

In a flash the centipede uncoiled from around Drake’s waist and struck, aiming for the attacking Drurr’s sword hand and taking it off at the wrist with scythe-like pincers. The Drurr fell backwards, screaming and clutching at the stump. Rag, still anchored to Drake’s waist, drew backwards and coiled back around him. The whole strike had taken less than a second, but it threw Drake so off balance he very nearly ended up face-down in the sand.

The remaining Drurr, the one with the dual scimitars, looked a lot more cautious now, and Drake decided to play on it. The sounds of battle filled the air along with the smell of blood and fire. It seemed some of the tents were burning.

“You’ve got no chance,” Drake hissed in the Drurr language. “Your ship’s been taken.” He bent his knees and drew a finger through the sand. “This beach will be your grave.”

There was fear in the Drurr’s eyes. It didn’t stop the fool rushing forwards, both his scimitars raised for a strike. Drake plucked up a handful of sand and threw it in the man’s face, then stepped aside, out of the way of his wild slashes. The Drurr was thrashing about like a drowning rat. He’d already dropped one of his weapons and was busy trying to rub the sand from his eyes while flailing with his remaining sword. Drake approached slowly, cautiously. He waited until the man had swung around to face the other way, then poked him hard with his sword. The blade went deep into the Drurr’s side, and he spun and swung towards Drake, but he was already back out of reach.

Drake picked up the dropped scimitar and whistled through his teeth. The Drurr turned and swung. Drake blocked the fool’s strike with his own sword and stabbed the man through the neck with the scimitar. Stepping backwards, he let him collapse into the sand to lie bleeding and gasping out his last.

The clamour of battle had stopped by the time Drake got back to the camp. As he drew closer, he saw a number of his men standing around a tent, not moving. He had to shove through them, they were crowded so closely together, and not one of them seemed to notice him. As he pushed through he saw something that tugged open an old wound in his heart, one he’d thought healed a long time ago.

Standing in front of the tent, lit by the flickering light of a nearby fire, was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, and that beauty hadn’t waned a drop in the years since he’d last seen her.

Eriatt, the Drurr matriarch who had once owned him, stood just outside the tent as naked as a person could be. Her pale, perfect skin. Her full, pear-shaped breasts. Her perfect face, framed by sunset hair. Drake felt his stomach flutter and his heart ache. Eriatt smiled, and a number of Drake’s crew dropped to their knees, their weapons forgotten. They could no more attack the radiant creature in front of them than they could their own mothers. The power of a Drurr matriarch’s glamour was far more than most folk could bear, and it was why scores of slaves served Eriatt willingly.

“Drake.” Her voice was like a silken caress to his ears. “I have missed you.”

Drake’s sword dropped from his hand, and he felt his eyes grow moist. Eriatt opened her arms wide and Drake stared at her breasts. He remembered how they felt, how they smelled, how they tasted.

“Come to me, my love,” Eriatt said. Even the harsh Drurr language sounded beautiful when it came from her lips.

Drake took three faltering steps forward and punched the bitch as hard as he could. Her head rocked back and blood erupted from her nose. Eriatt dropped to her knees and squealed in pain, and just like that the spell that held Drake’s crew in thrall vanished. The men behind him shook themselves and drew in ragged breaths, and some even broke out in tears at the loss of the deepest love they would ever feel.

“How?” Eriatt spat along with a mouthful of blood.

“Did you really think I’d be so stupid as to risk seeing you again without being prepared?” Drake said. “I’ve got power of my own these days, you dumb bitch.”

“Drake?” Beck’s voice floated into the little clearing outside the big tent, and Drake turned to see the Arbiter bloodied and limping.

Eriatt started muttering in the Drurr language, and Drake recognised the beginning of powerful magics. He sent a kick into the woman’s stomach, and the words failed her as she doubled over and fought for air.

“Beck,” Drake said. “You Arbiters got some ways to bind magic, right? I reckon you’d best do it on this poisonous bitch.”

“Give me your belt,” Beck said to one of Drake’s crew, and the man responded quickly despite the look of deep loss etched on his face. Beck hurried forwards and tied Eriatt’s hands behind her back with the belt while the Drurr matriarch was still gasping for air. Beck then dipped a finger in a small pool of Eriatt’s blood and proceeded to draw two symbols on her upper back, just below her neck.

“Done,” Beck said, wiping the blood on her trousers. “Who is she?”

“This,” Drake said, grabbing hold of the matriarch’s hair and pulling her head back so Beck and all his crew could look upon her. “This is Eriatt Arandell, mistress of Darkhold and matriarch of the Irkonsole clan.”

Drake wanted to punch the woman, to break her bones and burn her skin. He wanted to rip the Drurr to pieces, but he also wanted to comfort her, to console her, to set her free and to love her. He settled for giving her head a rough shove as he let go of her fiery hair.

Eriatt sputtered a curse, but there was no magic there, only a venomous insult. Drake understood it and he cared not a drop. He’d been called a thousand worse things since his time as a slave.

“This is the matriarch who…” Beck started, but Drake cut her off with a dark glare before she could say what the woman had done to him. She’d violated both his body and mind, and that was something he didn’t want his crew to know.

Eriatt let out a weak laugh. Her shoulders were slumped and her head hung low. She looked a pitiful creature, with blood dripping from her face and her pale skin sweaty and waxen.

“I am the one who made him what he is,” she said in the common tongue.

“I made me what I am,” he roared, “from the broken pieces you left behind. You tried to destroy me again and again and again. You tried to turn me into another one of your broken slaves who can’t live without your fucking love and approval.”

Eriatt raised her head then, a cruel smile on her face. “And I do approve, my favourite.”

Drake punched her on the cheek and she toppled sideways. Agony burst to life in his fist and he turned away, clutching his hand to his chest and letting loose a growl of pain.

Eriatt lay on her side in the sand, whimpering. Beck stood close by, a pistol cocked and ready.

“Cap’n,” said Wes, the only one of his crew who seemed to be in full control of his faculties. “What…” The man sniffed loudly, and Drake realised there were wet streaks down his face. “Orders, Cap’n?”

Drake took in a deep breath and let it out as a sigh, trying to calm his emotions. He hated that Eriatt could still make him feel so much, and so badly.

“Check the camp over again,” he said eventually. “Make sure we got them all, then signal Ying on the corsair. Oh, and watch out for the troll.”

“The troll?” Wes said.

“Fuck.” Drake had forgotten to tell his crew about the possibility of running into a troll. “If no one’s seen it yet, it’s probably off hunting in the forest. Just be careful in case it comes back, eh?”

Wes looked terrified. “Aye, Cap’n.” He turned to leave, and some of the crew followed him. Three men stayed behind, their eyes still locked on the Drurr matriarch.

“All of you,” Drake hissed in his angriest captain voice. “Fuck off.”

Drake waited until all of his crew were wandering away before he turned back to Eriatt’s prone form. Beck still stood nearby, and there was a look in her eyes that said she would be staying no matter how many orders or threats Drake threw her way. Instead he gave her a nod and a brief hint of a smile. If he couldn’t get rid of her, it was best to make it look like he wanted her there.

“Are you going to kill me?” Eriatt said, her dark eyes staring up at Drake even though she was lying on her side with her head resting on the sand.

Drake didn’t respond. They both knew what he was going to do.

“Drake, don’t,” Beck said. “We could learn so much from her.”

“I’ve already learned far too much from her.”

“I didn’t mean you. The Inquisition. A live matriarch. We could make her talk, make her tell us everything.”

Drake shook his head. “You don’t know what you’re dealing with, Beck. She would tell you things, no doubt, but she would corrupt your Inquisition from the inside out. You wouldn’t be able to contain her.”

“What?”

“If a demon sword can corrupt your organisation, this bitch definitely can.”

“How do you know about the sword?” Drake felt Beck’s compulsion wash over him, her magic finding no purchase on his will – not while there was a charm to guard against it tattooed onto his skin.

“Don’t listen to him, Arbiter,” Eriatt whispered from her place in the sand. “Your Inquisition is stronger than he knows. Think of all you could learn.”

Drake laughed. “Tell me you don’t feel it, Arbiter. The magic infused into her very words. It goes beyond the forming of spells. It’s like your compulsion, only instead of forcing the truth from folk, it replaces it. Give her long enough and she’d convince you the sea is dry.”

Beck frowned, the firelight dancing in her eyes. Eventually she nodded. “I feel it.”

“He’s lying,” Eriatt tried again.

“I feel it,” Beck repeated.

“The Inquisition is weak at the moment, Beck,” Drake said. “We both know it’s not prepared to deal with her insidious magic. She would tear it apart, and then who would stand against the Drurr?”

Beck nodded slowly, no longer questioning how Drake knew so much about the Inquisition.

“I’m putting an end to her,” Drake said. “You should go.”

Beck looked torn. Eventually she put away her pistol and turned, wandering away. Drake watched her go and waited until she was out of earshot. At some point Beck would realise she’d forgotten to ask about the necromancer, but it was clear the dark sorcerer wasn’t here and Eriatt would never give up the knowledge she held.

Kneeling down in front of Eriatt, Drake took her by the shoulders and pulled her upright. He pulled a knife from his boot and turned it over in his hands. Eriatt watched him play with it. There was no fear in her dark eyes.

“See, that was something I learned from you,” Drake said after a while, and he watched Eriatt’s face crinkle in confusion. “What, you didn’t feel it? That same magic you tried to use on her.”

“What?” Eriatt said.

Drake grinned and nodded. “You used it on me enough. So much, in fact, I started to get a feel for it. Took me a fucking long time, but I got the hang of it my own self. I bet you didn’t even know that was possible, eh? Do you really think your own daughter would just up and betray you, free your favourite slave, without a little bit of magical coercion?”

Drake watched the matriarch’s eyes widen as she took in the possibility. Some lies were so satisfying to tell.

“But I meant what I said. I’m done learning things from you.”

“There is always more to learn,” Eriatt said, slipping back into Drurr now they were alone.

Drake watched her for a while, conflicting emotions warring inside of him.

“Why did you come for me?” he said. “Why not just let me go?”

“You belong to me.” She smiled at him then, and he felt an ache in his chest.

Drake gave a sad shake of his head. “I belong to no one.”

Eriatt laughed. “You will always belong to me, my love. Even long after you kill me here, you will be mine. I made you, moulded you…”

“You…” Drake started, the accusation dying on his lips. He couldn’t say what she’d done to him, couldn’t admit it even to himself. “You made me love you.”

Eriatt smiled. “Yes. And you will never love another. Not a person, not your ship, not even this kingdom you hope to build. You are my masterpiece, my favourite. Never have I had anyone resist me quite like you, but every time you resisted it only bound us tighter together. You claim you have put yourself back together.” Eriatt laughed. “I can see it. You are still broken. You will always be broken. You will always be mine.”

Drake ground his teeth. “Aren’t you gonna beg for your life? Offer to take me back if I let you go?”

Eriatt’s eyes turned sad, and she smiled. “We both know you will never let me go, my favourite. You are going to kill me here, and you will try to trick yourself into believing that is the end of it. It is not. No matter how far you run, no matter how much power you garner, no matter how many women you fool into loving you – you will always wish it was me.”

Drake opened his mouth to deny it, but his throat closed and no words escaped. He wiped away tears with the back of his hand and stared into the face of the one woman he could ever love.

“Do it,” Eriatt said.

Almost gently, Drake reached up with the knife. He paused for just a moment. Eriatt didn’t move to stop him. He drew the blade across her neck and waited as blood ran thick and the life faded from her dark eyes.

Chapter 31 - The Phoenix

“Hard to starboard,” Keelin yelled as loudly as his voice could carry.

Fremen spun the wheel and a moment later the ship began to turn, slipping through the water at a new angle. Keelin leaned over the edge, trying to spot any hidden rocks on their new course while listening for the scrape and crack of the hull breaching. After a while he let out the breath he’d been holding. It was the tenth course correction in the last hour, and his nerves were frayed so thin he was about to snap.

A week out from Larkos they’d started to see evidence that they were straying into the waters surrounding the Forgotten Empire. The shoreline was now visible on their starboard side, and the trees were taller and more dense. There was a strange feeling too, almost as though the land itself didn’t want them near it.

The sea near the shoreline alternated between calm as glass and rough as bark, and the rocks grew ever more frequent, sharp, and devious. Every member of the crew was on edge, and even the normally serene Kebble seemed out of sorts. He came to Keelin on the third day of their navigation through the hazardous waters and made an earnest plea for them to sail away and never return. It fell on deaf ears. The crew were close to their fortune, and their captain was close to the vessel of his vengeance.

Drake’s chart was proving invaluable. It didn’t map all of the hidden rocks, but it did show them the beach they were headed to and the best route for them to take. It also told them which islands off the coast they could stop at for supplies, and which of those islands no man should venture near. Keelin thought about Zothus’ giant spider. Everyone knew the spider had come from one of the islands near the Forgotten Empire, and that was an island he wished to stay as far away from as possible.

Leaning over the side, Keelin could see deep into the crystal blue waters that lapped and sloshed against the ship’s hull. The sea teemed with life here, despite the ominous reputation of the area, almost as if the beasts that called the water their home had never heard of the fate that had befallen the once great empire. Not that Keelin knew much about what had happened to the Forgotten Empire either, only that it had vanished overnight and no one who entered the dark forests ever returned.

“Do you see the fish?” Elaina said. Keelin wondered how long the woman had been standing behind him.

“Which ones?” His eyes were focused on his ship’s path through the water, straining to see the hidden rocks before they presented a danger.

Elaina laughed. “The big ones swimming around our hull. Must be easily the size of a person, and I reckon they’re playing games. Every now and then one comes closer and touches the ship with its fin, then backs off to join the others.”

Keelin glanced downwards. Sure enough, there were some very large fish easily keeping pace with the slow progress of The Phoenix.

Keelin looked at Elaina to find her staring back at him, a wide smile on her face. She had a kind of plain beauty to her when she smiled, and right now it reminded Keelin of all sorts of things he’d thought he wanted to forget.

“Remember that time aboard the Death when my da stopped us for a spell off the coast of that island ring?” she said.

Keelin nodded. It was an island surrounded by water, which was in turn surrounded by a ring of land, which finally gave way to the sea. Target, Tanner had named the island, and they’d spent a good few days there exploring, hoping to find some hidden treasure in its green interior. In the end they hadn’t found a single bit, but that hadn’t stopped a young Keelin Stillwater and Elaina Black having fun. The waters surrounding the island were clear, clean, and free of any predators large enough to do a person harm, and they’d explored them for days.

“And why are you bringing up that little stop now, El?” Keelin said, turning his attention back to the ship’s course.

“There were some pretty big fish there too. We caught a couple.”

“Mhm,” Keelin agreed. “And I thought you were bringing it up to remind me that we spent half of that little stop fucking on every spot of beach we could find.”

Elaina laughed. “We did that.”

“Cap’n.” Aimi’s voice sent a wave of dread up and down Keelin’s spine. There was no way to tell how long she’d been there or how much she might have heard, but Keelin had a sinking feeling Elaina knew, and that was why she’d brought up their time on Target.

“Aye?” Keelin was afraid to turn and look at Aimi, so he kept his eyes on the water.

“According to the chart, we should be coming on the beach any time now. Just thought you might like to know.”

Keelin sighed. Their relationship had been more than a little strained since Larkos, and Keelin could only assume it was because he’d let Elaina come aboard. Aimi still shared his cabin, but she spent almost no time there other than when she slept, and at those times Keelin’s bed seemed like hostile waters teeming with sharks.

“Troubles?” Elaina said after a while.

“Leave it, El,” Keelin snapped. “Hasn’t Morley given you some duties to perform?”

Elaina laughed. “I do believe your first mate is a little afraid of me. Anytime I ask, he simply tells me to find something worth doing.”

“And you thought distracting the captain was something worth doing?”

His question was met with silence. Elaina turned her attention to the sea and a mad grin split her face.

“So you really want to be queen of us pirates?” Keelin said. It was a question he’d wanted to ask since before they left Larkos, but he’d needed to judge his timing. Elaina could be prickly as a cactus in the wrong mood.

“I really do.”

“To make Tanner proud?”

“Aye, that’s a small part of it, I suppose. Ain’t no way he could disapprove if I worked my own way onto the throne.”

“Even if you stole the support that was meant for him?”

Elaina was silent for a few moments, and the sun seemed to darken a little with her mood. Keelin shivered.

“I didn’t steal his support,” she said eventually. “He sent me to Chade and Larkos to get help. Didn’t say it was help for him or the isles, just help. I went and got it for me. Besides, he went and bent a knee to Morrass, same as you. Way I see it, I’m the only one that hasn’t got down on my knees to suckle on his cock, so I’m gonna sail on in at the head of a fleet as strong as all the other captains’ combined and take the throne.”

“And then suckle on Drake’s cock as his wife and queen?” Keelin braced himself for the fury of the storm.

“Better that than as his boy.” Keelin glanced up to find Elaina pulling a face at him. They both laughed. “Pirates might have themselves a king, and Drake might have himself a crown, but both are gonna need a queen too. And there’s no other bitch of a captain in the isles worthy of that title.”

Keelin thought about it. He imagined himself on the throne, and he imagined Aimi sitting beside him. She was smart as a scholar, quick as an eel, and stronger than most folk Keelin knew, but he wasn’t sure the other pirates would accept her. Elaina, they would accept. She was born and raised a pirate, and she’d fought, killed, and grieved alongside many of the other captains. Keelin wondered how Drake would feel about marrying into the Black family, and the image didn’t end happily.

“That our beach?” Elaina said, pointing towards the shore.

They anchored a good row away from the sandy shore, and there they floated for a while. Many of the crew had come up on deck to look out at the landing point that led to their promised fortune. What most of them would do with their share of the treasure was a question that would probably end in a few months of booze and pussy, and then it would be back to business as usual.

“We’re a good ways out, Captan,” Morley said, joining Keelin at the railing.

“I don’t want the ship getting too close. She should be safe here, sheltered from most anything nature can throw at her.”

Morley grunted and said no more. The man had been so outspoken against many of Keelin’s decisions of late that it was going to be hard to leave the ship in his care. The only consolation Keelin could think of was that the rest of the crew would never let Morley leave the captain and the landing party behind when the promise of riches was so enticing.

Keelin grinned, imagining the look on Arbiter Prin’s face when he realised who held the knife to his throat. He pushed away from the railing and walked to the centre of the main deck, whistling loudly to get the attention of his crew.

“Listen up,” he shouted. “We wait here for now. It’ll be dark in a few hours, and I want our first day on the island to be a good long one. Those coming ashore, I want you all up and ready to leave at first light. No stragglers. Good?”

There was a murmur of assent from the crew.

“I want ten volunteers to come with me,” he continued. “It’s gonna be…”

“Something moved!” shouted Olly. “On the shore.”

Keelin sighed as everyone who had gathered around ran back to the railing to stare at the beach. Sailors were ever an easy group to distract, and pirates were no different. Keelin walked over to the railing.

“There was something on the beach, near the trees,” Olly insisted.

“Ya bloody fool,” said Fremen. “Ya didn’t see nothing but the trees and a bit o’ wind.”

“No,” Olly said. “It weren’t no tree taking up a rustle. I was just looking about the sand and then I saw it. It was big, and standing there, from this distance it blended right in with the trees, but when it moved… It were big.”

Some of the crew muttered something about giants, while others laughed off Olly’s ramblings. Keelin shook his head and returned to the centre of the deck.

“As I was saying,” he shouted, loudly enough to reclaim the crew’s attention, “I need ten volunteers to come with me. It’s gonna be tough and dangerous, but…”

“I’m going,” Smithe said, standing tall among the crew with his arms crossed.

Keelin nodded to him. Smithe had been courteous and helpful of late, but Keelin knew full well the man still hated him, and he reckoned he’d rather have Smithe with him on the island than back on the ship spreading sedition.

Morley stepped forward, but Keelin shook his head. “Need you here, mate. Look after the ship.”

“Aye, Captan.”

“I’ll come along,” Feather said in a voice that made it sound like he was hoping someone would stop him. The lad may have moved on from the position of ship’s boy and graduated to a proper wage, but he was still young, and the young always felt like they had something to prove.

Bronson stepped forward and nodded to Keelin. “I volunteer, Cap’n.”

“Me too,” called Elaina from up in the rigging. She was sitting above the gathering and grinning down at them. As soon as she spoke, discord travelled through the crew. Keelin had to put a stop to it before the mood turned.

“Elaina. What we’re… This is between the crew. There ain’t…”

“Save it, Stillwater.” Elaina laughed. “I don’t want a share of the loot. I ain’t taking anything from any of you. I just wanna come along, is all. See what all the fuss is about. I promise neither me, nor any member of my crew, will claim even one bit of what’s found there.”

That seemed to cheer the crew up a little, and he couldn’t very well argue with her. If someone else was willing to risk their life to further the wealth of the crew, Keelin wouldn’t stand in their way.

“I volunteer,” shouted Aimi from her place on the deck.

Keelin suppressed a sigh. “Aimi, I don’t think… It’s gonna be dangerous.”

Aimi stood with her arms crossed and her chin raised in defiance. Keelin nodded his acceptance and wished he’d just handpicked a group instead.

“I’ll come along,” said Elaina’s veteran quartermaster. “No share. Just as the cap said.”

“You might need a healer,” said the priest who was always following Elaina around.

“I volunteer,” said Jotin, and he was quickly echoed by his brother, Jolan.

“One more,” Keelin said with a nod. “Kebble?”

The marksman had kept quiet, and that was something Keelin hadn’t expected. He’d thought Kebble would be one of the first to step forward. A few of the crew moved aside to reveal Kebble leaning against the ship’s main mast, a wistful look on his face. He nodded once, and it seemed to be all the assent he was going to give.

“Then we have our landing crew,” Keelin said. “Those of you who are coming, get ready then get some sleep. Tomorrow we go find ourselves a fortune.”

Chapter 32 - Starry Dawn

Rowing the dinghy over to the beach proved to be a lot more taxing than anyone had anticipated. But Keelin’s decision to anchor so far from shore had been the right one, even if it did mean the trip was long, with the currents whipping first one way then the other at nightmarish speeds. Elaina put her back into the oar and her trust into those rowing alongside her. Judging by the sheen of sweat on Keelin’s face, he was having just as hard a time at the tiller, and by the time the eleven-strong landing crew pulled the boat ashore, they were all aching and breathless from the exertion. It wasn’t the most auspicious of starts.

Elaina knelt in the sand, her feet and legs soaked with saltwater and sweat dripping down her nose. Someone offered her a water skin and she took it gratefully, taking two short sips followed by two longer ones. She stood and looked around at the rest of the landing crew. Pavel was busy trying to wring the water out of his robes. Elaina thought him a fool for insisting on wearing the garb in such a situation, but the man was a priest above all else. Alfer was close by, staring into the ominous-looking forest, his hand resting on the hilt of the notched sword buckled at his belt.

Keelin, dressed in a faded blue suit with tasselled epaulettes, was talking to the man with the rifle. Kebble Salt was an odd one, and Elaina had yet to figure him out. The man kept his head a short shave away from bald and maintained his horseshoe moustache with almost a lover’s touch. The crew of The Phoenix were more than just complimentary about him; they treated him as a hero, with all the awe and distance that folk afforded to such.

Elaina looked around for Keelin’s waif and found her staring up the beach. The woman had insisted on taking one of the oars on the way across, and Elaina had to respect her for that. Despite her size, she didn’t back down from a challenge. Taking another couple of short sips from the water skin, Elaina approached her. “Here.”

The woman looked down at the offered water and then away.

“I ain’t trying to poison ya,” Elaina said with a sigh. “We all need to drink if we’re gonna survive this. Weren’t exactly an easy row over, and you did well at the oar. Reckon ya deserve a bit of hydration.”

She looked at Elaina sceptically, but her thirst soon won out and she took the skin. “Thanks.”

“Reckon you and me got off to a bad start,” Elaina continued, staring down at the smaller woman. “So I think we should rectify that, seeing as we’re gonna be around each other a bit. I ain’t trying to come between you and Keelin.” There was nothing quite like starting off an offer of friendship with a lie.

The woman finished gulping down the water and handed the skin back to Elaina. There was a look on her face that said she didn’t quite believe the claim.

“Then what are you doing here?” she said. “Why come aboard in the first place?”

“Don’t think I caught your name?”

“Aimi.”

“Well, Aimi, if you can keep a secret – I came aboard The Phoenix because I don’t have a ship of my own. Bastard of a first mate pinched it while I was ashore in Larkos. Now, you might know that me and Keelin go a long ways back. Well, I needed passage back to the isles, and he was one I knew I could trust.”

“Sorry about your ship.”

Elaina laughed. “Oh, don’t you worry about that. I’ll be getting it back soon as the fucks make port.”

“Why come along for this though?” Aimi said. “It’s a lot of danger for no share in the prize.”

“I’d be bored sat on the ship waiting for you all to come back. Figured I might as well come along for the fun.”

Aimi looked up at Elaina with an incredulous expression. “You’re mad.”

Elaina grinned. “Runs in the family. Reckon we’re getting ready to head into the trees. Come on.”

Each member of the expedition had their own pack to bear, and each of those packs contained food, water, and flint for starting a fire. There were no illusions that the food they were taking with them would be enough, so one of their duties, while looking for whatever it was they were looking for, would be to search for food and fresh water. All eleven of them were armed with both a weapon of their choice and a thick knife for cutting through the undergrowth.

“Stick close together,” Keelin said as the last of the expedition drew near. His gaze stopped on Elaina and Aimi standing close to one another, and Elaina thought she saw a flash of worry pass over his face. “But not too close. Be ready to help each other, just try not to get in each other’s way.”

“What is it we’re looking for, exactly?” Elaina called.

Her question was met with a silence that sounded suspicious at best.

“We’re already here, aren’t we?” she said with a laugh. “Right along with you, and still promising not to steal your treasure. I think it’s about time you let us know what we’ve got ourselves into, eh?”

“The city of HwoyonDo,” Keelin said, as though the name should mean something.

“Oh. A whole city then. Big, is it? Hard to miss?”

Keelin set to staring Elaina down, but she met his steely greys with her own bright blues.

“Actually, the city of HwoyonDo was rather small compared to some of the other cities the Empire built,” said Kebble. “It was not the capital, nor a base of power, but instead the seat of religion and worship. People from all over the Empire would make a pilgrimage to the great temple, where they would offer up tributes to their god. Sorcerers would gather from the far reaches to crowd the Sky Spire and the Observatory, and watch the stars in hopes of enlightenment and to reap the rewards of the rocks that fall from the sky.”

“You seem to know a lot about an empire that most folk call forgotten for a reason,” Elaina said.

Kebble gave her a wistful smile.

“Do you know the way?” Keelin asked his marksman.

Kebble nodded. “More or less. The forest has likely reclaimed all the old roads though. It will not be easy.”

“Nothing worth a shit ever is,” Keelin growled. “Let’s move out. Kebble has the lead.”

Elaina fell in beside Smithe. The man had been quiet for a while now, and that was unlike him. It was more than just quiet, though – Smithe had a haunted look in his eyes.

“You hear that, Cap?” he said, his eyes darting about as they walked past the first tree into the close, damp forest.

Elaina listened. She heard the sound of boots on earth and twigs. She heard the chirping of insects and the call of birds. She heard the wind stirring branches and leaves, and she heard the gentle slosh of the sea washing the beach away.

“Hear what, Smithe?”

“The whispers,” he said. “Angry voices, like… like they don’t want us here.”

“Right.” Elaina took a deep breath. “So, what’s with your man Kebble? Seems he knows a bit about this place.”

Smithe hacked at a branch that had had no intention of getting in his way. The brief act of violence seemed to embolden him a little.

“He thinks he’s immortal. Real smug about it too. Acts like it’s nothin’. Smug fuck-piece. Says he’s even tried to get himself killed. Like being immortal is a bad thing. Dumb bastard. I’d be captain if I were immortal. Sure as hell wouldn’t be in this forest with all its fucking whispering.”

Elaina almost laughed. Smithe was considering the possibility of immortality, and the furthest he could set his sights was still captain of a ship. Simple men had simple desires, and Smithe appeared to be deranged as well as simple. The trees were most certainly not whispering at them all to leave. The spirits, however, were another matter altogether.

Chapter 33 - The Phoenix

Two days into their expedition and Aimi was fairly certain they were going round in circles. Kebble claimed to be leading them to HwoyonDo, but he didn’t seem enthusiastic about the responsibility, and Aimi wondered whether he would soon lead them right back to the beach.

The forest was hot and damp and full of biting insects and other things that had far bigger teeth. Each night was a horror that started with a chorus of animal calls and ended in haunting wails and titanic roars that ripped through the forest like a wind, bringing the smell of death and decay. Each night Keelin set three watches, and each night Aimi found herself sitting at least two of them, wishing sleep would claim her. Her tremulous feelings were only made worse by Elaina Black’s apparent ease with the situation. In fact, Captain Black seemed to be the only one in the entire expedition who wasn’t worried by the forest.

Aimi knew something was wrong as soon as she was awake. Keelin was kneeling above her, his hand on her shoulder and his eyes darting around the forest. It was long past her watch, and the near-pitch darkness told her the sun had yet to rise.

“Feather is missing,” Keelin whispered. He gave Aimi’s shoulder a quick squeeze and stood.

Aimi lifted her head and looked around. The whole camp was in a state of disarray as some folk struggled to rise and wake up properly while others grasped swords and stared about in fear. Kebble had his rifle readied, but couldn’t seem to find a target. Elaina was squatting down on her haunches, staring upwards at the canopy.

“Perhaps he’s taking a shit?” said Smithe, with a yawn and a look that said he wasn’t best pleased about being woken up.

“That’s what I thought when I got up for the watch,” Bronson said. “That was a fair while back. Don’t know anyone who shits for that long.”

“Fremen takes his bloody time about it,” Smithe growled. “Likes to read a book while he hangs his arse over the ship.”

“We need to look for him,” Aimi said.

Judging by the looks sent her way, her statement was not well received. Not a single member of the expedition, not even Keelin, jumped at the prospect of forming a search party for their valued crewmate.

“First light ain’t too far off,” Elaina said, still staring upwards. “It’d be safer to wait.”

“What if he’s out there, hurt?” Aimi said.

“In this light we could walk right by him and not notice,” Elaina said. “Not to mention, we can’t see all the other dangers.”

“We can’t just leave him.”

“I don’t wanna go out there in the dark,” Elaina’s quartermaster put in.

“What if whatever got Feather is just waitin’ for us too?” Jolan said, his voice quivering.

“He’s right,” Jotin jumped in. “It’s a bloody trap, is what it is.”

“Enough,” Keelin growled, his voice quiet but full of command. Everyone stopped talking, and Aimi could hear the chitter of insects and the sound of something heavy moving through the leaf litter.

“Feather?” Keelin shouted. The noise almost seemed to echo around them. No answer floated back, and Aimi could hear nothing but the unseen wildlife and the crackling of their fire. It wasn’t strictly cold enough to warrant a fire, but not a single member of the expedition had wanted to bed down for the night without the light, and there was plenty of fuel to be found.

After a while Keelin gave a weary sigh. “Elaina is right. It’s too dangerous to go out in the dark, and we might walk right by Feather. We’ll wait until first light, and we’ll search for the boy then. Chances are he just got scared and decided to run back to the ship.”

Aimi knew a lie when she heard one. Feather could be called many things, but coward wasn’t one of them. All the same, it seemed to satisfy everyone else, and she wagered some of them needed to think Feather had simply run off.

They spent most of the morning searching in groups of three, only to find no sign of Feather. Elaina said she’d found a trail that quickly ran cold and could easily have belonged to one of the search party. As the sun drew near its zenith, Keelin called a halt to the search, stating they needed to move on while there was still enough light to make good progress. Aimi hoped Feather was alright, but there was a pit in her stomach that said otherwise.

Chapter 34 - King’s Justice

“Aye, that’s a fuckin’ lot o’ ships,” Daimen said with a whistle.

Captain Rothin Wulfden winced at the curse. He was stout with a belly like an ale barrel and more knowledge of the sea than almost any man Daimen had met. The captain was also a horrendous bore who deplored the use of foul language and chastised anyone who practised it. Unfortunately for the captain, Daimen was too old to care much about what he thought.

“Thirty-eight so far,” Wulfden said pompously, near bursting with pride. “Most are fully seaworthy – some are waiting for repairs.”

“What about the fuckin’ crew?” Daimen said. “Fully loaded, are they?”

The good captain fell silent and scratched at his belly.

“Ah, that’d explain it then,” Daimen said with a grin. “With this many ships you’re sure to sail on in an’ crush the bloody pirates like the undisciplined fucks that they are. Not so easy to do when ya can’t even crew ya ships.”

“We lost a lot of men in the last attack. Well-trained sailors are not so easy to come by, and the soldiers we send must be taught to fight on unstable footing.”

Daimen laughed. “Sea legs and sea gut, hardest things for the land dwellers to learn, eh?”

“Indeed. Sarth will soon be sending more ships and more men to help. We expect to sail into the Pirate Isles with over fifty fully manned ships. I’d like to see your Drake Morrass repel those numbers.”

“Ah, stop with the ‘my Drake Morrass’, will ya? I’m one of you now, got me a pardon to prove it.” It was mostly the truth. Daimen had a provisional pardon and a provisional deed to a lucrative spot of land in the south. Whether or not the king signed those documents was conditional on Daimen leading them to and helping them wipe out the pirates of the isles.

“Indeed,” said Captain Wulfden, sounding anything but trusting.

The sad truth of the matter was that the good captain and his officers were as much Daimen’s gaolers as they were his superiors. Rarely did Daimen find himself out of their watchful sight, and rarely while in their sight did he find himself feeling like a free man. Though they’d never believe him, the captain and his men had no need to be so strict. Daimen wouldn’t flee even if the opportunity should present itself, and the way Land’s End was locked down, he couldn’t see an opportunity anywhere on the horizon.

He’d had plenty of time to think about his situation while he was locked up, and he’d come to the conclusion that the king was telling the truth. Drake would sacrifice anything to achieve his goals, even an entire town. The good folk of the isles were better off without a treacherous cur like that, just as they were better off without Tanner Black. And Daimen would be happy to help remove them, given the hefty reward that had been laid out in front of him.

“We should be under way before the new moon,” Captain Wulfden continued as he gazed out across his fleet. It wasn’t technically his fleet yet, but everyone with an ounce of say in the matter was pushing for the captain to be made admiral.

“So soon?” Daimen said. “Fuck me, a storm is coming.”

The captain ground his teeth and scratched at his belly again. “The less time we give the pirates to prepare, the better. Your intelligence had best be right, Poole. I have the authorisation to execute you on the spot if you attempt a ruse.”

It wasn’t the first time the captain had made that threat, and Daimen would have put good money on it not being the last.

He opened his mouth to defend himself, only to be interrupted by a loud belch followed by a number of profound apologies from a man in a faded green suit that looked as though its better days were many years behind it.

“I do apologise, gentlefellows,” the man slurred with a grin that showed at least one missing tooth. The smell of alcohol wafted off him so strongly Daimen suspected he bathed in booze. “I appear to have lost my purse. Could any of… you… How many of you are there? I count one, two, three, six, seven.”

There were four of them, and apart from Daimen they were all dressed in their finest naval uniforms. Only the most dedicated of drunks would attempt to squeeze a bit out of the sailors.

“Could I borrow a bit or two? Just enough to get to an inn, I swear,” the man slurred, staggering a little.

“The docks were meant to be cleared of vagrants, Barrows,” Captain Wulfden growled, doing his very best to ignore the drunkard swaying back and forth in front of him. “Have him thrown in gaol.”

“Whoa now.” The drunkard stumbled back a step and fell on his arse in a muddy puddle. With a groan, the man got his hands beneath him and lurched back to his feet. “It’s not my bloody fault I’m here. It’s yours. I was out on shoe… schuuure… shore leave when you all just closed the port. My ship packed up and fucked off before you locked them down, and they went and left me here. Now, my good sir, I do not have much in the way of skills or talents. I do, however, know my way around a ship. Or at least bits of one. The good bits, mind, not the bilge.”

“Just get him out of my sight,” said the captain. “Let him bother the rest of the good folk and leave us be.”

Two of Captain Wulfden’s officers moved forwards to escort the drunkard away, forcibly if necessary. The men looked loathe to touch the poor fellow, but he didn’t seem to be in any hurry to leave of his own accord.

“I can sail,” he slurred as he was dragged away. “No? How about a bit? A copper?”

“Damned vagrant sailors are everywhere,” Wulfden hissed. He bit his lip, but Daimen had heard the curse and grinned at him.

“Well, it is ya own damned fault, Captain. Ya shut down the largest port in these here Five Kingdoms. Those vagrants got nowhere to go until it opens up for trade again, eh?”

Wulfden shot Daimen an icy glare.

“Right y’are. Damned vagrants all over the fucking place. Quite right.”

The captain muttered something under his breath. “Now, where was I. Oh, yes. I have the authority to execute you, Poole.”

“So ya keep reminding me. Honestly, I think it’s putting a real strain on our relationship, mate.”

Captain Wulfden let slip an ugly smile. “Do not think you are the only traitor we have in the pirate ranks.”

Daimen paused. He didn’t want to play into the captain’s hand, but his curiosity got the better of him. “Who?”

Chapter 35 - Starry Dawn

Elaina looked down at the empty bed roll. All of Bronson’s supplies were still packed away in his sack, and there was no sign of a struggle. He was simply gone, as though he’d woken and walked away without so much as a sound. Not even the watch had heard or seen the big man leave the camp.

“We should go,” Jotin said, chewing on his lip. He’d already made his mouth bloody, but it didn’t seem to stop the fool. “Get back to the ship before any more of us go missing.”

“We are closer to the city than we are to the ship,” Kebble said as he knelt down on the opposite side of the bed roll to Elaina and poked around in the leaf litter. “Very close now.”

“What?” Jotin’s voice had risen to one drop from panic. “How do you know?”

Kebble pointed at a rock to his left. Jotin glanced at the small boulder and then away; the idiot hadn’t even seen the markings on it.

“It’s a fucking rock, Kebble.”

“It is a marker,” Kebble said. “And it says we are within a day’s walk of HwoyonDo. The city should be safer than the forest.” The lie was plain on his face. Whatever waited for them in HwoyonDo was anything but safe. More intriguing to Elaina was how Kebble knew what waited for them.

“Folk say you’re immortal,” she said quietly.

Kebble nodded.

“So if I stab you, you won’t die?”

Kebble smiled. “It is more likely you will miss.”

“I don’t miss.”

“Then try. I would welcome the death. But you would likely trip and miss, or the captain would catch your hand in time, or lightning would rip from the sky and strike you. I assure you, Captain Black, I can be killed. Just nothing and no one has managed it yet. I am cursed with life.”

Elaina picked up a colourful beetle and squeezed it a little, then released it. It flew away on shimmering wings. “Does Keelin believe you?”

“I believe he is starting to.”

Elaina glanced at Keelin, who was pacing back and forth at the edge of the firelight, staring out into the receding darkness. When she looked back, she found Kebble watching her intently.

“Spirits in this place are angry,” Elaina said. “I can feel their rage.”

“Can you?”

“Spend enough time among spirits, you learn to pick up on the way they feel,” she said, thinking of the forests on the Isle of Goats. “Funny thing is, they’re angry at you.”

“They have every right to be. I created them.”

Keelin was still pacing. Jotin was busy crying to his brother. The others in the camp were either trying to get back to sleep or watching the shrinking darkness with nervous head twitches. Kebble smiled at Elaina and nodded.

“You may ask your questions, Captain Black.”

“Just one, really. What the fuck?”

“Spirits gather in places of great pain or joy. Often you may find them at sites of heroic or villainous deeds. Most people cannot see or hear them – they only know that something is there. But the spirits can see us. Some spirits are malevolent, while others are simply playful. The spirits here are definitely more malevolent.”

“I know,” Elaina hissed. “I know all of this. I’ve been seeing the bloody things most of my life. They infest the Isle of Goats and drag the unwary into the forest, and there they keep them. Pretty sure my ma and da see them too, but I ain’t exactly ever discussed it with them. What did you mean when you said you created the spirits here?”

“Exactly what I said. I created them when I brought down the Empire.”

“Pack up,” Keelin growled. “We’re leaving.”

Elaina realised the first rays of sunlight were beginning to peek through the canopy. She knew Keelin was eager to not waste another day like they had searching for the boy, Feather. Bronson was gone, and the sooner they accepted that and moved on, the sooner they would get to HwoyonDo.

Once the camp was packed and the contents of Bronson’s pack divvied out between those that remained, they set off. Kebble led the way, and Elaina pushed past Keelin and Jotin to walk next to the marksman.

“How’d ya do it?” she said as she hacked at a vine stretching out in front of her. She believed Kebble’s wild claim, and her curiosity was driving her to find out how the man had accomplished it. “You some sort of sorcerer? Like a witch?”

“No,” Kebble said with a laugh. “I was born the second son of a patronless scholar who lived in the common section of HwoyonDo. We had next to nothing as we grew up. My father worked for whoever would hire him, most often criminals requesting forgeries. The one thing we did have was access to the great library. All those with a scholarly licence were afforded entrance, and as a scholar’s son, so was I.”

Kebble stopped and brushed some dirt away from a rock embedded in the ground. A smile spread across his face, twisting his moustache into an odd shape.

“Closer than I thought. We may have been able to complete our journey yesterday.” He set off again on a slightly different course, and Elaina hurried to catch up, the others oblivious of the tale he was telling her.

“I learned at a ferocious rate, devouring every book, scroll, and scrap of parchment I could find. I studied astronomy, religion, science, magic. I learned to predict the weather based on signs any fool could see and feel. I learned alchemy, and how to apply it to the arts of healing and destruction both. I learned everything a book could teach me, including the subtleties of court behaviour.

“My reputation grew along with my knowledge, and soon the Neotromo asked me to become one of his advisors.”

“Neotromo?”

“Chief magistrate of arcane studies. A powerful sorcerer, and second in authority to the Emperor himself. Therein lay my first mistake. I wasn’t happy being advisor to the second most powerful man in the Empire. Growing up with nothing makes some men desire little, others it makes desire everything.

“While still working for the Neotromo, I sneaked off to the capital city of Tresingsare, where I worked my way into an audience with the Emperor and revealed just whom I worked for. The Emperor and the Neotromo were ever at odds, and I played them off each other.”

Kebble sighed. “I wish I could say I did it for some noble reason, but the truth is I did it to further my own agenda. I played both sides into starting a war against each other, knowing full well whoever won would have me standing by their side.”

“Who won?” Elaina said.

Kebble laughed. “The forest.”

Elaina was about to savage the man for such a purposefully vague answer, when she realised he’d stopped and was staring at something above her.

A gigantic stone arch rose a hundred feet into the sky, the trees of the forest clinging to it and twisting around its great pillars. To either side of the arch were the crumbling remnants of an ancient wall, long since brought low by the forces of nature. Huge vines hung down from the arch, almost like a curtain, obscuring the view through it. Not that Elaina needed the view; she could already see that the forest gave way behind to powder blue skies dotted with white cloud, and above it all the sun shining down on them.

“Welcome to HwoyonDo,” Kebble said. He sounded sad. “City of scholars and traitors.”

Keelin rushed forwards, straight past Kebble and Elaina, and began hacking at the vines that hung down from the arch and pooled upon the floor. Smithe ran to help, and soon both men were frantically chopping their way through the natural gate while the others just stood and watched. Keelin was first through the hole they created, with Smithe only a step behind. They stopped on the other side of the arch, Elaina’s view obscured by their bodies.

Kebble stepped forward and placed a hand on the stone. He dropped to his knees and began to cry. Unable to contain her curiosity any longer, Elaina strode forwards, pushing through the hacked tangle of vines and inserting herself between the two men on the other side.

The city of HwoyonDo rose up before them like the nest of some giant insect. Buildings of grey-brown stone rose higher than most had cause to be, with the smallest of them a good five or six storeys tall. Stone bridges ran across the sky from one building to another; some were no more than broken piles of rubble on the ground, but others had stood the tests and rigours of time and nature, and gave easy, quick access from one structure to the next.

The roadways between the buildings were easily large enough for ten men to walk abreast, and to either side of the roads were trenches where water rested or flowed. The forest had started to reclaim much of the city, and a lot of the buildings closest to the arch were infested with trees and vines. Some had even started to crumble beneath the strain, but it seemed there was only so much the forest could reclaim, even after such a period of time.

Elaina felt someone push against her back, and she stepped aside to let Alfer through behind her. More members of the expedition filtered in, and soon all of them were standing there, staring at the half-ruined city spread out before them. Only Kebble hadn’t ventured through the arch. Elaina found herself more and more convinced that the marksman was no madman, but was in fact telling the truth about his immortality and even his origins.

“We’re here,” Keelin said, a look of reverence in his eyes.

“Aye,” Smithe said. “Looks like you finally made good on that promise. Now, which way to the riches, Captain?”

Chapter 36 - The Phoenix

“Everything in this city is treasure, Smithe,” said Keelin.

The grandeur of HwoyonDo wasn’t lost on Keelin, far from it, but it was a distraction that didn’t interest him. Of the eleven of them that had set out, two were lost already, and the longer they stayed, the more likely those who remained would join their missing companions. Keelin needed to find the Observatory. He didn’t care even a drop for the supposed treasure the city held.

“We’ll just pick up some bricks and run them back to the ship then, eh?” Smithe said with a sneer.

“I don’t give a fuck what you do,” Keelin snarled, barely sparing Smithe a glance. “There must be some street signs somewhere. Maybe I can see it if I get high.”

“See what?” Aimi said.

Keelin ignored her, striding forwards into the city. Buildings rose up high on both sides and extended far into the distance, blocking out any chance of seeing what lay ahead. Rubble littered the ground where the forest was starting to reclaim its territory, but further in there were fewer signs of the jungle. It gave Keelin hope that the Observatory was still standing and untouched. He picked a tall structure on his left with vines growing up the walls. Much of one side of it had been knocked down by the trunk of a tree. It looked like it may have once been used as housing; a small metal stove, rusted beyond use, hung precariously out of one hole in the wall. Shards of pottery lay strewn among giant roots, and a tarnished spoon had been half absorbed by a gnarled knot of wood.

If he could climb up the vines and find a way to the rooftop, he might be able to see the layout of the city, maybe even spot the Observatory itself.

“Keelin!”

A hand appeared on Keelin’s arm, but he shook it off, not caring who it belonged to, and advanced upon the nearest vine that looked sturdy enough to take his weight. Aimi slipped around him and stood between him and the building. Her brow was furrowed and her cheeks reddened.

“Stop!” she shouted.

For a moment Keelin considered shoving the little woman aside and starting the climb before any of the others could try to stop him. He glanced back to see the rest of his expedition standing just a few paces behind Aimi, sharing worried glances between their captain and each other. Even Smithe was frowning with concern.

“What?” Keelin said.

“Where are you going, Keelin?” said Elaina, hanging at the back of the group.

“I need to get to the Observatory.”

“That where the best treasure is kept?” Smithe said.

“Why?” said Aimi.

Keelin felt his jaw clench. He was so close to his vengeance, only to be held back by those who were supposed to be helping him.

“My city is dead,” Kebble said sadly as he walked slowly towards the others. Keelin spared the man a glance, and was shocked by what he saw. Kebble looked older, as though every line on his face was etched more deeply than before. His eyes were red from tears, and there were streaks down his face where they’d washed away the dirt and grime of the last few days.

“Eh?” Smithe grunted.

“It has been dead for over a thousand years,” Kebble continued, his eyes darting around the ruined city before them. “Even the ancient wards that kept the forest at bay have started to fail. It’s all my fault.”

“Wonderful,” Keelin growled, impatience tearing away at his last nerve. “This is all we need.”

“Your city?” Smithe said. “Ya been here before, Kebble?”

Kebble nodded slowly. “Long ago. When thousands lived here and we…”

“Good stuff,” Smithe said. “It’s all very tragic, I’m sure. You know where we can find the gold? Or at least the stuff that’s worth its weight?”

Kebble nodded slowly. “Yes. We should act quickly. The city may be dead, but it does not want us here.”

Smithe opened his mouth to reply, but quickly shut it again with a shake of his head. Keelin groaned and turned back to the vine; he had no wish to indulge Kebble’s delusion that he was immortal. Aimi still stood in his way, a determined look on her face.

“We’re not splitting up,” she said slowly.

“I have to do this alone,” Keelin said. He knew that what he was about to do was dangerous, and he wanted no one else to risk themselves for his attempt at vengeance. There was something else as well. He wanted no one to see the pain and rage that he’d kept balled up inside ever since the death of his little sister, ever since he’d watched her burn and had been powerless to stop it.

“Do what?” Aimi said.

They’d been butting heads for weeks now, but there was real concern in her eyes. For a brief moment Keelin considered telling her everything. He considered telling her how his father had torn their family apart, about how Keelin had spent the last ten years hunting down the Arbiter who had murdered his sister. He couldn’t though. He couldn’t let her see his greatest weakness. Keelin had built his entire piratical career on secrets and lies. His identity was a lie, his life was a lie. Now he thought about it, there was very little that was true in his life.

“Keelin,” Aimi said insistently. “Do what?”

Drawing in a ragged breath, Keelin composed himself. He looked down at the little woman in front of him and shook his head. “Go with the others. I will be back here by this time tomorrow.”

“No.”

Aimi stood her ground, her hands balled into fists at her side. Keelin was acting erratically, and the last thing she was about to do was let the fool run off on his own. Aimi wasn’t the type to bandy around romantic clichés, but she was sure of one thing – she liked the captain a lot more than as a friend, and despite his recent spell of acting like an arse, she couldn’t let him go off on his own. They’d already lost Feather and Bronson.

The captain fixed her with a steely glare, but Aimi held fast, though the intensity made her want to shrink away and join the others like a nice, meek crew member. It would take more than a stern eyeballing to scare her off.

“Jolan,” Keelin said, his stare still on Aimi. “I have an errand to run elsewhere in the city. Make certain Aimi does not follow me.”

“Fuck that!” Aimi spat.

“Smithe…” Keelin said.

“You can’t just…” Aimi threw out her arms to push Keelin’s chest, but he caught her hands and twisted her aside, sending her stumbling towards the others. A moment later two thick arms wrapped around her, holding tight.

“Smithe. Find us some treasure to take back,” Keelin continued. “As much as we can carry.”

“Damnit, Keelin,” Aimi shouted, struggling against Jolan’s grip only for it to tighten. “You simpering gull fart, you can’t just fuck off on ya own.”

Without another word, Keelin turned and leapt towards the nearest vine, climbing upwards hand over hand. Aimi struggled, but Jolan held her tight. Everyone else just watched the captain climb up and up, until he made it to the rooftop and disappeared from sight.

Aimi stopped struggling and Jolan relaxed his grip a little. The pirate smelled of sweat and fear, and it made her stomach curdle. She went limp with a heavy sigh, and Jolan loosened his grip a little more.

“Sorry, lass,” he said quietly. “Captain’s orders an’ all.”

“Uh huh,” Aimi grunted, a moment before hooking her left leg around Jolan’s and throwing her body back with as much force as she could muster.

Jolan stumbled and tripped, taking Aimi with him, and hit the ground. His grip released and Aimi rolled free in an instant, springing to her feet and running towards the same vine that Keelin had climbed. Someone shouted something behind her, but Aimi was no longer listening. She leapt for the vine and raced up it as fast as her hands and feet could take her. No one aboard The Phoenix could climb rigging even half as fast as Aimi, and it seemed climbing vines was no different.

The plant was rough and slimy to the touch, and by the time Aimi reached the rooftop her hands were stinging. She ignored the pain. The building had a flat roof, and much of it was crumbling away as the tree that had taken residence inside squeezed through the bricks. Aimi knew it took time, but she was always amazed by how destructive a simple tree could be when it really tried. It rose up behind her, providing shade from the midday sun. Before her stood a city the likes of which she’d never seen before.

The size of HwoyonDo put even Larkos to shame. The city stretched out forever, far into the horizon. Buildings rose high and then higher, and they were all interconnected with the stone bridges Aimi had seen from the ground. From her vantage point she could see that the forest was starting to reclaim the city in many places and, even further in, the buildings were coloured green by nature’s advances – vines, trees, and moss all working to take back what humans had once stolen.

Aimi looked upon the wonder of HwoyonDo, and nowhere did she see Keelin. How he’d disappeared from sight she didn’t know, but he was gone, and there were no tracks to be found on the rooftop.

A cooing noise caught Aimi’s attention, and she turned to see a large bird sitting on a nearby roof, watching her every movement with beady black eyes. The creature was unnerving, to say the least, and not just because it was the size of a small dog. Aimi did her best to ignore the beasty as she wandered over the rooftop, looking for signs of where Keelin might have gone.

By the time Aimi descended the same vine she’d used to climb up, her hands were red, sore, and blistered. She trudged towards the group in a stupor, and could barely find the energy to apologise to Jolan.

“Bloody hurt, ya little bitch,” the pirate said, looking very indignant. “I was only following orders.”

“Sorry,” Aimi said, collapsing into a cross-legged heap on the ground.

“Ah, it’s alright. Didn’t hurt that much.” Jolan smiled. “You feeling alright?”

“My hands hurt,” she admitted, showing her palms to the pirate.

Elaina’s priest rushed forwards, tutting and fussing and demanding to have a closer look at Aimi’s hands. She let him, focusing on the conversation going on between the others, led by Smithe.

“There’s gotta be a palace or something. Place where all the best loot is kept,” Smithe argued.

“HwoyonDo has no palace,” Kebble said quietly. The marksman looked as though he were carrying the weight of the city on his shoulders. “There is the Sky Spire, but I cannot be certain the traps will have lost their potency.”

“Traps?” said Alfer Boharn, Elaina’s quartermaster.

“Yes,” Kebble continued. “Magical in nature and designed to resist intruders and thieves. I believe we would be considered both.”

“So stay away from this spire then?” said Smithe.

“I would suggest just that. The temple may have some riches remaining. Many would travel to pay tribute to the god.”

Alfer sucked in a hissing breath. “Ain’t wise to steal from gods. Some don’t take kindly to such.”

“Where’s Elaina?” Aimi said as Pavel wrapped strips of cloth around her blistered hands.

“Huh?” Smithe grunted. He looked around. All seven of those who remained turned this way and that, looking for the missing captain. Elaina Black was gone.

“Cap?” Alfer shouted, his voice echoing a little in the distance but receiving no reply.

Pavel tied off the bandages and stood, nervously shifting his weight from one foot to the other as though he really needed to piss. Aimi pushed to her feet and went to stand next to Kebble. He was the only one of them who didn’t look worried.

Chapter 37 - The Phoenix

Keelin passed from building to building, barely taking any notice of their contents. Rooms blurred together as he entered through one skybridge to leave across another, always towards the Observatory. His hands were blistered from the climb up the vine, but it was only a minor distraction. Up on the roof he’d seen the Observatory standing tall amidst a sea of smaller buildings. It was obvious even to his eye, with its rounded roof and the broken remains of what had once been a giant monoscope that the scholars of HwoyonDo had used to study the heavens.

Keelin raised his hand against the glare as he stepped out onto a skybridge. Inside, the light was dim and the atmosphere cloying. Outside, so high up, the air was crisp and the sun was bright.

“Shit!” The bridge that spanned from this building to the next was gone. It wasn’t the first such unfortunate ruin he’d encountered; more than once already he’d had to double back to bypass a section that had fallen to rubble.

He could, of course, have continued his journey on the ground, but Keelin knew just how easy it was to get turned around in a large city. He preferred to stay near the rooftops, where he could see his destination to correct his course if need be.

Keelin glanced down. He was easily six storeys up, and any fall would result in almost certain death, smashed upon the cobbled streets below. The telltale rubble of crumbled bridges and walls littered the floor, and a small, rat-like creature scurried about from cover to cover, no doubt hiding from aerial predators.

Looking up, Keelin spotted another skybridge a good ten feet above him. It appeared to be intact for the most part, veering off at an angle to connect to a nearby building that was at least vaguely in the right direction. He heard the scuff of boot leather on stone and glanced back inside the building. It wasn’t the first time, and he was now certain that someone was following him. It was probably Aimi, and the sooner she realised it was safer to go back to the rest of them, the better.

Keelin shuffled up to the edge of the broken skybridge, sending a small cascade of loose dust and rocks hurtling to the ground far below. He edged sideways, placed his left boot on a nearby window ledge, and pushed upwards, grabbing hold of a door frame and beginning the climb. It wasn’t taxing – there were hand and footholds all over the outside walls in the forms of ledges or chunks of missing brick. It was, however, nerve-wracking, knowing that a fall would likely end his life as a nameless corpse in a city full of bones.

Keelin rolled onto the intact skybridge, wiped the sweat from his forehead for the hundredth time, and got his feet beneath him to move in a crouch, ready to leap for safety at the first sign of the bridge giving way beneath him. The stone held, and after only a few moments he was across, a new doorway before him leading into the next building. Keelin hesitated only a heartbeat before stepping through into the dim room beyond.

Like all those before, this one smelled stale and dusty. There was little of any real note. Over a thousand years had long since turned all but the most sturdy of items to dust. Here and there tarnished metal glinted underneath the rubble and dust; some of it might even be valuable. To Keelin it was worthless. The real treasure of HwoyonDo lay in its magical accomplishments, and there was one in particular that interested him.

Not for the first time, Keelin hoped the creature who had sold him the information had been truthful. If he’d come all this way and sacrificed so much only to be cheated of his vengeance… He let the thought hang, unsure how he would react in such a situation.

The buildings were large and spacious. With all the doors long since rotted away to nothing, he could see the next skybridge, two rooms further on, and hoped this one would correct his course. Keelin made it through the first room and into the second before he again heard the scuff of shoes behind him; this time it sounded far closer.

“Damnit, woman,” Keelin growled, turning to give Aimi a shouting at that would hopefully send her back to the others.

The figure that stood at the entrance to the skybridge was definitely not Aimi. Keelin couldn’t see the man properly, the light shining from behind rendering him nothing more than a large silhouette, but it was certainly a man – and a big one at that.

Keelin moved a hand to the hilt of one of his cutlasses and raised his voice. “Hello?”

The figure took a lurching step forward, and Keelin felt the tension flood out of him as he recognised Bronson. How the man had found them after disappearing the previous night was beyond him, but Keelin was glad, nonetheless, that the big pirate had survived his disappearance.

“Where have you been?” he said.

Bronson didn’t answer. He took another lurching step forwards. A second figure darted in from the skybridge behind him. Keelin drew his sword in a flash and rushed forwards, only making it as far as the doorway before the second figure turned to face Bronson.

Elaina stood in front of the pirate, swaying slowly from side to side. Keelin watched as the big man mimicked her movements.

“What the fuck are you two doing?” Keelin said.

“Quiet!” Elaina hissed, holding out a hand behind her and pointing towards Keelin, all the while keeping up her steady swaying.

“What is this, Elaina?” Keelin took another step forward and froze. He could see Bronson’s face now, and it was a mess of open, oozing wounds that almost looked self-inflicted, as if the big man had torn at his own face with his fingernails. One eye was missing, a gooey hole where it should have been, and the other was as black as the darkest night.

“This ain’t your man no more, Keelin,” Elaina said slowly, still swaying from side to side. Bronson mimicked her, as if in some sort of trance.

“Then who is he?”

“Fuck,” Elaina snapped. “Would you just shut up and trust me for once?”

“Last time I trusted you it almost got me killed.”

Elaina was still facing Bronson, her arms spread out as she moved, as if she were balancing on a narrow railing.

“Well, ya either trust me now, Keelin, or I can let this thing loose and we’ll see how you fair.”

“I’ve got my swords.”

Elaina snorted. “Steel won’t stop this. There a way out behind you?”

Keelin glanced back. The next skybridge was a room and a half away, no more than twenty feet, he guessed. “Aye.”

“Then start backing towards it, slowly as ya like. Let me know when ya get there, eh?” There was a note of something in Elaina’s voice, and it sounded a lot like fear. It wasn’t something Keelin was used to hearing from her.

He began to walk backwards, slowly, one foot after the other after the other. His sword was still drawn, but after Elaina’s claim, he was starting to doubt its usefulness. She kept up her slow swaying, Bronson – or whatever it was – still copying her. Keelin took another step, and his back bumped against the door frame, sending a chunk of brick the size of his head tumbling to the floor with a crash.

“Fuck!” Elaina shouted, and she turned towards him, the fear now plain on her face. “Run!”

Keelin turned and stumbled over the rubble he’d just dislodged, steadying himself with a hand to the floor. He launched into a sprint towards the skybridge, sure that both Elaina and Bronson were only steps behind him.

The room sped past in a blur of grey and brown dust, light shining in from the doorway in front of him. Keelin rushed through the portal, and it took too long for his eyes to adjust to the change in light. Too late, he realised the skybridge was down. He didn’t have time to think – he barely had time to react. His foot hit the rubble that was the end of the skybridge and he pushed off, leaping forwards and at the same moment seeing just how distant the other side of the bridge was. He was already falling, and safety was so far away. He threw up his arms, hoping to catch hold of the ledge, all that was left of the far side of the bridge.

Rough stone smashed into Keelin’s face, and the light went both dim and bright at the same time. He felt his sword fall from his grip to go tumbling to the ground, where he knew he would soon join it. Then his fingers hit the ledge, and he gripped instinctively, holding on with every drop of strength he could muster.

Opening his eyes, Keelin saw the drop below and a wave of vertigo swept over him, twisting his vision. He heard a grunt from above and the sound of leather boots skidding on stone. Looking up, he saw Elaina above him, her expression frantic.

Elaina’s hands gripped hold of his own, and she braced and pulled.

“Can’t do this alone,” she hissed through clenched teeth.

Keelin pulled. His fingers, hands, and arms burned from the effort. Slowly he began to rise. After a few moments his arms were above the ledge, and Elaina pulled him into the safety of the building.

Keelin rolled onto his back and sucked in lungful after lungful of air. His heart was beating loudly in his ears and he could feel every limb shaking with either exertion or fear or, more likely, both.

“Get up, Keelin,” Elaina growled. The woman was already on her feet, staring out across the gap they’d just leapt.

A grim chuckle escaped Keelin’s lips as he rolled onto his front and struggled to get his feet beneath him. His arms and legs ached, and his face stung like it had recently had an unfortunate meeting with a stone wall. He was fairly certain there was nothing funny about his current situation, definitely nothing worth chuckling about, but he laughed all the same. The laugh died in his throat when he looked out across the gap and saw exactly what had become of Bronson.

The pirate stood on the far side, waiting across the broken skybridge. His face was a red mask of torn flesh and muscle, with bone showing beneath. Part of his lip had been torn away to reveal teeth and gums. Bronson’s hands were even worse. His fingers looked as if they’d been chewed on by animals, the flesh eaten away to show the bones, which looked like they’d been sharpened to points.

“He’s only been gone a few hours,” Keelin whispered. “What happened to him?”

“Spirits,” Elaina said as she paced back and forth, never taking her eyes from Bronson. “They got inside of him. Infested his body and soul. Ain’t nothing left of the man you sailed with, Keelin. They’re all over him. In him.”

Keelin shook his head. He’d seen some nasty things in his time at sea, but the idea that something had crawled inside one of his crew and turned the man into… something else – Keelin didn’t feel prepared to deal with that sort of monster.

“You remember the forests on the Isle of Goats?” Elaina said. “I used to take you there from time to time. Every now and then we’d come across someone who seemed lost. They just wandered about, unaware and unresponsive.”

“Aye,” Keelin said. “I remember. You used to say the forest had got to them. That’s what Tanner was always telling folk about. The reason he had all those wards placed.”

“Well, those were spirits,” Elaina continued, still watching Bronson. “Only, those ones weren’t violent for the most part. They’d get stuck inside of people and couldn’t find their way out.”

She looked at Keelin. “There’s spirits here too. All over the jungle and all over the city. But these ones ain’t so placid. Don’t reckon they take too kindly to us intruders. They want us good and gone, any way they can get it.”

Bronson turned slowly and walked back into the dark room. Keelin took in a deep breath. He’d known they would encounter magic in HwoyonDo – he’d been counting on it – but spirits were something else entirely.

“How can you…”

“Shh,” Elaina hissed.

Keelin shut his mouth and listened. He could hear a rhythmic thumping, getting faster and closer. He looked up.

Bronson reappeared out of the doorway at the other end of the broken skybridge and leapt towards them, flying through the air. Elaina reacted first, dashing forwards and jumping just as Bronson landed on their side of the bridge. She hit the big pirate with both feet and dropped to the floor, scrabbling to get away as Bronson teetered on the edge, his big arms waving back and forth.

Keelin started forwards, drawing his remaining cutlass with his left hand and passing it to his right. There was a crack, and the stone beneath Bronson fell away, taking the possessed pirate with it.

For a brief moment Keelin thought it was over, and he stopped, but Bronson caught hold of what was left of the ledge with his shredded fingers and held tight.

Keelin stepped forward, raising his cutlass and bringing it down on Bronson’s left hand. The blade cut through flesh and bone and rang as it connected with the stone beneath, but failed to sever the hand. With a wild jerk of his arm, Bronson tore Keelin’s cutlass from his grip and sent it sailing into the street below to join its partner.

Elaina grabbed hold of Keelin by the shoulders and turned him to face her. Fear and excitement had flushed her cheeks; it made her beautiful, and there was a wild look in her eyes that Keelin remembered well. Despite the danger, or maybe because of it, Elaina was enjoying herself.

“Run,” Elaina hissed, and she turned, fleeing deeper into the building at a sprint. Keelin took one last look at the monster Bronson had become as it struggled to pull itself up from the ledge, and chased after Elaina.

Chapter 38 - The Phoenix

“How are your hands?” the Five Kingdoms priest said as they marched through the abandoned streets.

“Stinging like an arse with the shits,” Aimi growled, with a bit more venom than she’d intended. The priest didn’t deserve her anger. With neither Keelin nor Elaina anywhere nearby, Aimi was directing her ire at whoever would have it.

“Perhaps I should have a look at them again next time we stop. I may have an ointment that would help.”

“Save it. I’ve had worse.” Aimi fell silent and the priest followed suit, though he stayed close, sending furtive glances her way.

Kebble was in front, leading the way, with Smithe beside him. The surly quartermaster was in charge, and that worried Aimi even more than the missing captains. Smithe was no fan of Keelin, or anybody for that matter, and it was more than possible that he would try to find a way to leave the captain to rot in HwoyonDo. Aimi knew she shouldn’t care. Keelin had been a fool, running off on his own, but no matter how much of an arse he might act, Aimi still cared for him.

Jotin and Jolan appeared from a nearby building, their faces betraying their unhappiness. They quickly moved to join the rest of the group, falling in just behind Smithe.

“More of nothing,” Jolan said with a sigh. “Everything here is long since rotted to dust. City is fucking dead.”

“That’s the third time ya’ve come back with nothing,” Smithe growled at the brothers. “Starting ta think ya ain’t looking right.”

“You wanna go have a fucking peek?” Jolan said. “Be my guest.”

Smithe turned and gave Jolan a hard shove that unbalanced the pirate and put him on his arse. Jotin’s hand moved to his sword, but one glare from Smithe convinced him not to draw the length of steel.

“Which one of us is in charge?” Smithe hissed.

Jolan let out a sigh and got his feet beneath him. “You are, Smithe. Sorry, mate.”

“Damned right I am. What I say goes, and I’m sending you two cunts off to look for treasure.”

“Ain’t nothing here, Smithe,” Jotin said. “We found a plate and a jug, and a couple of spoons, but… there ain’t nothing here. Kebble said the city has been abandoned for thousands of years. Things just don’t last that long.”

“Metal don’t rot,” Smithe said. “Gold don’t rot. Gems don’t rot.”

“There ain’t none of those things here,” Jotin said. “Unless ya want us to go back and get the spoons.”

“It’d be something.”

“At the first sign of the war starting, many people fled the city. I would assume they took anything of value with them,” Kebble said without looking back. “The streets were chaos. People were trampled underfoot.”

“So what the fuck are we doing here if there ain’t no treasure?” Smithe snarled.

“The temple will still house its riches. The priests would not have fled. No matter how much death rained down upon them, they would stay. And they were more than capable of fighting off any looters who may have mistaken the chaos for an opportunity.”

The group marched on in silence for a while. Aimi shielded her eyes and looked towards the sky. The sun was long past its zenith, and it was possible the light would start to wane soon. Being in the dead city after dark wasn’t something that appealed to her, but then neither was spending another night in the forest.

“I do not believe that man is as cracked as he appears,” Elaina’s priest whispered to Aimi. “He may actually be as old as these ruins.”

“Let’s bloody well hope so,” Aimi said quietly.

“Why?”

“Because if he ain’t, then none of us have a clue where we’re going.”

She’d been right about the light. By the time they reached the temple, the last rays were disappearing over the tops of the gigantic buildings that surrounded them. Even worse were the long shadows that turned simple doorways into dark voids housing hundreds of terrors. There was something else too. Aimi couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that she was being watched.

It was a strange sensation, like insects crawling over her skin between her shoulders, and she always felt it when unknown eyes were tracking her. After years of working in a tavern, surrounded by pirates, she’d come to trust the unease.

“That it?” Smithe said, disbelief plain in his voice.

“Yes,” Kebble said with a smile. “The Temple of the Grace.”

“Grace? That the god’s name?”

Kebble shook his head. “I will not speak his true name.”

“Why not?” Pavel said.

“Because I am the only one alive who remembers it, and I would prefer it lost and forgotten.” Kebble laughed. “I’m a little bitter.”

The temple was squat compared to the buildings around it. It was long and wide and stood only a few storeys tall, topped with a domed roof surrounded by a wide saucer-like ledge supported by pillars that rose up out of the earth. Vines clung to the building like leeches, winding their way up the pillars and infesting the windows, yet no damage seemed to have been done to the structure.

Aimi glanced at the nearby buildings and then back to the temple. “Ain’t none of the others covered in those vines,” she said quietly. “Why, then, is the temple?”

The rest of the party looked equally as stumped, and even Kebble offered no answer to the question.

“I don’t like this,” Aimi continued, again feeling like she was being watched. “Something here ain’t right.”

“Stow it, bitch,” Smithe growled. “Cap’n ain’t here to flap ya cunt at, and I’m in charge. Treasure is in there, and that’s where we’re going. Ain’t fucking leaving this shit hole without some sort of payoff.”

Aimi looked at Kebble. The immortal merely shrugged in return. The remaining light was fading fast, and if they went inside the temple, Aimi guessed it would be well into the night by the time they came back out.

“Let’s get some torches lit then,” Smithe said after a few long moments of everyone standing around, clearly not wanting to go any further. “Stick close and keep ya eyes open for anything might be worth something, eh?”

“I will wait out here,” Kebble said.

“Fuck that, mate,” Smithe snapped, instantly squaring up to the marksman. “You the only one knows where shit is. We need ya in there.”

Kebble shook his head slowly. “I will never again set a foot in the temple of that god. He’s the bastard who cursed me. Besides, I’ll wager you’re all safer in there without me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I will wait out here.”

Smithe growled and stalked away.

“Can I wait out here too?” Jotin said, his voice quivering.

“No!” Smithe shouted. “Everyone else is coming with me. Now.”

There was a small set of steps leading up to the temple entrance, only eight in total, each more foreboding than the last as Aimi mounted them. Even the flickering torch she lit did little to bolster her courage. There was simply something off about the entire city, and the feeling was stronger here. One glance at the rest of the group convinced her they all felt the same way. Even Smithe looked worried, fat drops of sweat beading on his forehead.

The door to the temple was made of stone, and it looked as pristine as the day it had been made. There was no visible lock, only a number of designs chiselled into its surface. Aimi recognised none of the symbols and had little time to study them. Smithe handed his torch to Jotin, placed his hands against the door, and pushed. The sound of stone grating against stone shattered the quiet. It seemed unnaturally loud, echoing around the city behind them.

As the door slowed to a gentle rest, every last one of the company peered inside with their emotions plain, ranging from mild distrust to outright terror. The room inside was darker than night and eerily still. For a long while they all stared, straining their eyes and ears, no one wanting to be the first to venture inside.

“Anybody else hear that scratching?” Alfer said.

“Rats,” Smithe assured them in a voice that sounded far from sure.

“Riiiight,” Alfer said.

“What else could it be?” Smithe said.

“Lad,” said the older man, “you do not want me to answer that question.”

“Ah, fuck this cowardly shit.” Smithe snatched his torch back from Jotin and walked into the temple. The quartermaster took five paces forwards and waved his torch about a bit before turning to the rest of them, still crowded around the entrance. “Well, come the fuck on then. This place ain’t exactly gonna loot itself.”

Chapter 39 - Starry Dawn

The darkness dictated their decision to stop far more than any certainty that they’d lost Bronson and the spirits that infested him. They’d crossed skybridges, changed directions through buildings, and even leapt a few gaps of significant distance. If they hadn’t lost Bronson by now, they weren’t going to, so they might as well turn and fight.

They were inside a building, and it looked like it might once have been a bakery or some such. There was a large stone oven in one corner of the room, long unused, and a number of dusty stone tabletops. Elaina leaned against one of the tables and sucked in deep breaths of cool air. She was far from tired, and her blood was up. Excitement from the chase coursed through her veins. A laugh bubbled up from deep inside and burst out of her mouth.

“What are you laughing at?” Keelin said between deep breaths of his own.

“Same thing you are, I reckon,” Elaina replied with a wink.

Keelin nodded, chuckling. “Just like old times, eh?”

“Never could decide if it was you or me who kept finding the trouble, but we were always both running from it.”

“It was you,” Keelin said with a grin.

Elaina snorted. “Well, that’s a lot of shit if ever I heard it.” She stood and stretched her back, bending over backwards into a handstand and then letting her momentum carry her upright. Keelin was leaning against a wall, watching her with a familiar glint in his eyes.

Elaina sauntered over to him. “I seem to remember it was you who came up with the plan to pinch ol’ Farley’s last bottle of brandy reserve.”

Keelin grinned again. “My idea, sure. You stole it though.”

Elaina moved closer still, close enough that she could smell Keelin’s sweat. It wasn’t a pleasant smell, and it should probably have turned her off, but it was having quite the opposite effect. There was nothing like a good heart-pounding chase or fight to get the blood up, and there was no aphrodisiac quite like danger.

“Seem to remember we both drank it,” Elaina said, taking another step closer until her breasts pushed against Keelin’s chest. She stared at him. His breath was coming quick and ragged.

Elaina lunged forwards, nipping at Keelin, catching his lip between her teeth and tugging gently. It appeared to be all the invitation he needed.

Keelin surged forwards, picking Elaina up and turning them both around, shoving her against the wall. A gasp escaped her lips and then Keelin’s own were against them. There, staring down into his cold steel eyes, Elaina saw the ghost of the man he used to be, the man he really was but seemed to have forgotten.

The danger of the spirit-infested hunter forgotten, Elaina and Keelin raced to rid each other of their clothing, and in close to no time at all they were both as naked as they could be arsed to be.

He didn’t last long, but Elaina was used to that. Keelin always finished first to begin with, but they’d never left it at just the one time before, and this was no exception.

“So why are we here, Keelin?” Elaina said, picking up her trousers and attempting to shake the dust out of them. She had a warm, flushed feeling deep inside, as she always did after an orgasm. It didn’t mean she was about to ignore the big, important question that had been nagging her since they’d arrived. “Don’t give me that shit about treasure. I know ya well enough to know ya don’t give a fuck about gold more than keeping ya ship afloat and ya wardrobe full of fancy jackets.”

Keelin sighed. He was sitting on one of the tabletops, mostly naked. Elaina felt her blood stir again when she looked at him, but she ignored it. They could fuck more later; now she wanted answers.

“I’m here for the Observatory,” Keelin said. His eyes were pinned to her breasts.

Elaina placed her hands in front of her tits until Keelin met her stare. “That’s suitably vague, Stillwater. Fancy filling me in on the rest?”

“Haven’t I filled you enough for today?” Keelin grinned wickedly, again looking like the pirate Elaina remembered from years before.

“You reckon that’s enough?” She winked at him. “Your standards must be slipping. I still want an answer.”

“I’m looking for someone. Have been for a long time. I’ve heard the Observatory here has ways of finding them. No matter how far away they might be.”

“The Arbiter?” Elaina said as she started buttoning up her blouse. “The one that killed ya sister?”

Keelin leapt off the tabletop and snatched his trousers from the dusty floor, shoving his legs into them. Anger marred his usually pretty features.

“How do you know about that, Elaina?”

“You told me a long time ago. You were pretty drunk at the time and bawling like a babe. I remember it clear as day though. You told me how ya sister had been sick since birth, had fits and was weak, barely able to stand. You also said she was smart, knew things a girl her age shouldn’t.

“Your da thought it was more than just sickness though. He thought she was possessed, or a witch or something. He sent a request to the Inquisition, asking for one of their witch hunters to come and have a look at her.”

Keelin pulled his jacket on over his shirt and kicked at a stone on the floor. “Bastard set fire to her. Burned her alive just for being a sick little girl.”

“And you’ve spent all ya years since trying to find that bastard. Pin?”

“Prin. Arbiter Prin.”

“And ya reckon ya can use this Observatory to find him? So we can go put him in the ground?”

Keelin was quiet for a long while. “Yeah.”

“Let’s get moving then, eh?” Elaina grinned.

“Why did you never tell me that you can see spirits, Elaina?” Keelin didn’t look like he was in any rush to leave the comfort of the little bakery.

Elaina cackled. “Same reason you never told me you’re noble born, I reckon.” She winked at him. “I figured it out though.”

Keelin snorted and shook his head. “No, you didn’t. Someone on my ship told you.”

“I’ve known ya for… I don’t know. Since we were old enough to know each other, I guess. Ya really think I didn’t figure it out?”

“Nobody else did.”

“Nobody else sat and listened to ya voice for hours. Nobody else spent so long with ya they heard ya accent slip. Nobody else cared enough to figure it out, Keelin.”

“Nobody else got me so fucking drunk I spilled my closest-kept secrets?”

“Aye, that too. Point is, your family were nobles from the Five Kingdoms who murdered their own daughter. My family can see spirits, and my da’s an evil bastard who had me raped to teach me a lesson.”

“What?”

Elaina’s smile vanished. “Shit. Forgot ya didn’t know that one.”

“I’ll kill him,” Keelin hissed. He crossed the room and put his arms around Elaina, and she didn’t stop him. It felt nice to be protected and supported. It felt nice not to be alone for once.

“No, you won’t,” she breathed into his shoulder. “The isles need Tanner Black. So do I.”

“No, you don’t, El. You never have.”

Elaina let out a weary laugh.

“What about the… whoever did it?” Keelin said.

Elaina tensed, pushing out of his embrace. In truth she hated being reminded of it. Hated remembering the feeling of helplessness. The pain and the shame that went along with it. “Don’t you worry. I’ll deal with that fucker myself, just as soon as my arse touches my throne.”

Keelin looked like he was about to say more, but he just sighed and nodded.

“So how about it, Stillwater? We gonna find this Arbiter of yours or not?”

Chapter 40 - The Phoenix

Aimi took a faltering step inside the temple and peered left and right, holding her torch out in front of her and praying there was nothing hiding in the deep shadows the light left behind.

“Bitch, hurry the fuck up or I swear I will fuck you with your own torch,” Smithe growled, still standing a few feet ahead of her. The rest of the expedition were still outside, waiting for Aimi to move out of the way.

“Nice threat, Smithe,” she said. She didn’t move, nor stop waving her torch around. “The only problem is, I’m more scared of this temple than I am of you.”

“Ya might wanna rethink that, bitch. I can be real scary.”

“Are you a dark temple dedicated to a long-forgotten god in a ruined city that’s been lost for thousands of years?” Aimi said. “No? Then I think I’ll stay more scared of this place.”

A hand landed on Aimi’s shoulder and she damned near jumped out of her skin.

“Ignore him, lass,” Alfer said calmly. “He don’t wanna admit it, but he’s scared as you are, as we all are. Still, job to get done, and all that.”

Aimi nodded and took another step into the temple, still holding her torch in front of her like a shield. Smithe snorted out a laugh and turned away to look deeper into the building.

The first room was small, with a number of stone benches built into the floor. Three dark alcoves lined the wall to Aimi’s left, and a glance right told her the same was true on the other side. The roof was high, and there were signs that it had once been marked with some sort of symbol, but most of the paint had long since been lost to time.

As the others started to file into the room behind her, Aimi approached one of the alcoves on the left, holding her torch out so that she could see what it contained. A stone box ran the entire length, its lid firmly in place, and there were symbols Aimi didn’t understand etched upon the stone.

“Coffins,” Pavel said, confirming Aimi’s suspicion. “Six of them.”

“Who do ya think is in them?”

“The six faces of the temple’s god,” Kebble said from outside. He was still refusing to set foot through the door. “I would not open them if I were you.”

“Might be treasure in them,” Smithe said. “Folk bury treasure with the dead sometimes.”

“They are not buried,” Kebble said, “and there is nothing inside but death. The temple kept many religious items made from gold, and metals even more precious. You will find them further in, either upon the altar or in the chests located in the cellar.”

“Last chance, mate,” Smithe said, looking back from the darkness, his face lit only by the flickering torch he held. “Share of the risk, share of the loot.”

Kebble smiled. “Good luck,” the marksman said before his face disappeared.

Smithe growled and stalked through the next doorway, disappearing from view along with the light from his torch. Aimi looked around at everybody else. She could see little of them but their faces in the flickering torchlight, and they all looked worried. Shrugging away the odd sensation that once again crawled between her shoulders, Aimi stepped over the stone bench and followed Smithe.

Arches spread the entire length of the long room, loop after loop of stone extending into the darkness. Each arch was about six feet in length, and they ran both front to back and from side to side, cutting the room into many small squares. On the floor in the middle of each square was a circle of discoloured stone.

“I believe they were for praying,” Pavel said from behind as he waved his torch at the arches. “See the small holes on the underside of each one? Curtains were likely hung there so the faithful could pray in relative privacy.”

Aimi looked upwards. The arches didn’t extend vertically, but the roof was too high up to be seen in the scant light. She found herself wondering what the dome looked like from the inside, whether it had once been painted like some of the temples in Larkos.

“If this is the room they prayed in,” Smithe said, “makes sense the altar would be at the end, right? Come on. Let’s get this bitch looted.”

Smithe stalked forwards and, with a shrug at Pavel, Aimi followed. Everyone else surged forwards, eager to get the job done and be away, their footsteps echoing loudly.

Aimi almost bumped into Smithe when he stopped, so closely had she been following the quartermaster. Behind her she heard the expedition slow and start to spread out. They’d left the square grids of arches, and in front of them now was what had to be the altar to the forgotten god.

A statue rose up so high it almost disappeared into the darkness above, a group of six figures standing back to back in a circle facing outwards, each one different but for their faces. One carried a shield, while another held a sword. One was dressed in robes, while another wore an apron and carried both a hammer and a shovel. The final two were hidden behind the others. At the feet of the statue lay a large bench, and upon it sat a much smaller depiction of the six figures, made of gold rather than stone. Each of the figures had small, different-coloured gemstones for eyes.

“Grab it, Jotin,” Smithe ordered, already walking off around the statue.

“Stealing from a god,” Jotin said hesitantly. “I ain’t so sure about this.”

“Just do it,” Smithe hissed. “Kebble said this bloody god is as good as dead already. No power left.”

“That ain’t what he said,” Aimi complained.

“Good as.” Smithe completed his circuit around the statue. “Ain’t nothing else here. Just the one fucking lump of gold.”

“Your man outside said the rest might be kept in a cellar?” Alfer said. “We should look for some steps.”

“Does anyone else still hear that scratching?” said Jolan.

“I told you it was rats, ya damned coward,” Smithe snapped.

Jolan was looking up into the darkness. “Then why is it coming from above us?”

Chapter 41 - Starry Dawn

“Is this magical diviner of yours still gonna work?” Elaina said.

They were standing on a long skybridge that ran to the Observatory from the building closest to it. On the ground below were metal, glass, and stone remains of the largest monoscope Elaina had ever seen.

“I hope so,” Keelin said, his voice barely more than a whisper in the dark.

“They must have wanted to look at some things really far away,” Elaina said. The Observatory was almost twice as tall as the buildings around it, and the monoscope had once been a giant. But, like everywhere else in the city, time had brought down the mighty achievement.

“The stars,” Keelin said. “It was used to look at the stars.”

“Aye, but… Why?”

“Some people say you can tell the future by the stars. Probably shit. Maybe these folk believed it.”

The door at the end of the skybridge was made of stone, and it stood proudly defiant despite the passing of time. Keelin put his back against it and pushed with all his strength. Nothing happened. Elaina joined him, putting her own weight to the slab, and together they shifted it. It moved slowly at first, but soon the door cleared its frame and swung open on surprisingly smooth hinges.

The air inside the Observatory was still and dry, and it felt odd against Elaina’s skin. The hairs on her arms stood up, and she felt a strange energy all around her. It took her a moment to realise the Observatory wasn’t dark. A dim glow reminiscent of moonlight shone down from the windows, even though the moon was well and truly obscured by cloud.

“That’s eerie,” she whispered.

“The windows absorb sunlight during the day and release it at night to keep the place lit. The creature who told me about this place described it in great detail.”

Elaina grunted. “That’d be a real useful trick to know.”

“We’re not here to steal the secrets to making fancy windows, El. What we’re looking for should be two floors up, in a laboratory filled with gears and cogs.”

Keelin started searching for the stairs up to the next level. Elaina was far more interested in what this floor contained. A vast array of glass equipment was laid out, set up on wooden tables that somehow hadn’t rotted to dust. Bookshelves stood along one wall, and each one was full of dusty tomes. A small shelf of scrolls sat alongside a cupboard containing glass vials, all of which were filled with a variety of coloured liquids. Elaina didn’t know much about magic, but she guessed only sorcery could keep the place pristine through the passing of thousands of years. A thick layer of dust coated everything, but other than that, it looked like a working alchemist’s laboratory.

“Here,” Keelin called, one foot already on the first step.

“I’ll catch you up,” Elaina said. “I want to have a look around first.”

“What for?”

“I don’t know. It’s just… maybe we’ll find something valuable.”

“I’m not looking to get rich here, Elaina.”

“Not all fortunes are made of gold.”

Keelin looked like he was about to argue, but he shook his head and turned back to the stairs.

“Here,” Elaina said, pulling her sword out of its scabbard and tossing it to Keelin. “You might need a weapon, just in case.”

“What if you do?”

“I have a knife. Always was better with the shorter blades. I’ll catch you up soon.”

Elaina wandered about the laboratory. She trailed her fingers through the layer of dust upon a table, picked up a small bottle of green liquid and shook it to no effect. Finding herself in front of a bookcase, Elaina began scanning the tomes. They were written in a language she somehow recognised despite never having seen it before, but though the characters were familiar she couldn’t piece together what they said.

Moving on from the bookcase, Elaina examined the cupboard full of glass vials. The liquids they contained ranged from clear in colour to all sorts of greens and reds and yellows. Each vial was clearly labelled, but again Elaina couldn’t quite read the language. She understood letters here and there, but the meanings of the words were lost to her. Elaina picked up a scroll from the nearby shelf and carefully unrolled the parchment. This time, whole words made sense. Elaina read as much as she could, and even as she was reading, more and more of the language became apparent. Before long she was able to decipher the whole scroll, even though the language was still very much alien to her. She went back to the bookshelf. The titles on the books all made sense to her now, where before they’d been undecipherable.

Elaina looked back down at the scroll in her hand and read it again, more closely this time. A grin formed unbidden across her face. She looked about for something to write with and found a lump of charcoal from some long-extinguished fire beneath a glass jar. She rolled the scroll out on a table and read for a third time the formulae it detailed, jotting down in the common tongue the ingredients and how to mix them. When she was done, she shoved the scroll into her little pack and leapt up the stairs after Keelin.

Chapter 42 - The Phoenix

Keelin looked in wonder at the construct in front of him. The room was filled with interconnecting machinery, and it all intersected here. A chair sat upon a large metal circle on the floor. The cogs and gears were silent now, the thin layer of dust a testament to their long slumber. Keelin could imagine that once they started up again, the noise would be deafening.

Looking down at the small scrap of leather in his hand, Keelin located what he hoped was the fourth interweave lower lever and pulled it upwards. A loud clunk sounded, but he couldn’t locate its source.

The creature that had approached Keelin with information about HwoyonDo and the Observatory had been very specific about the city’s location and the design of the Observatory, and with instructions on using the great machine. He’d also been very specific on the consequences should the instructions not be followed. Keelin imagined what his insides would look like cooked, and it wasn’t a pleasant thought.

Locating the second low-polar lever, Keelin pulled it downwards. A strange humming noise started up, filling the entire room. Keelin felt his stomach turn over, and his hands shook just a little.

“This it?” Elaina said loudly as she leapt up the last two stairs. “What the fuck is that noise?”

“This is it. I think it’s meant to make the noise.”

“You think?”

“Aye. Think and hope. Find anything valuable down there?”

“Not a thing,” Elaina said. “Lots of books and whatnot. Couldn’t understand a damned word though. Bastards could have at least used the common tongue, eh?”

“Mhm,” Keelin agreed, barely listening. He pulled another lever and several machines stirred to life, cogs turning and pistons pumping, and the noise quickly became oppressive. A rapid clicking sounded from somewhere, setting Keelin’s nerves on edge.

“Are you sure about this, Stillwater?” Elaina all but shouted.

Keelin shrugged and moved over to the chair. It was small, metal, with some sort of machinery all around it and not a cushion in sight. Keelin lowered himself onto the uncomfortable seat and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. Keelin had been hunting Arbiter Prin for a long time, but all he was really hunting was a name, and he needed more than that. He remembered the Arbiter as hollow-eyed and deep-voiced, but the man’s face eluded him.

He changed tactics and brought back the memory of his sister’s death. There was no way he could forget that; it was etched into his very being.

It was night; the moon was a sliver and the stars were out in force. Derran had gone to bed early, exhausted after his interrogation at the hands of Arbiter Prin. Keelin had been interrogated twice, and each time he’d been left shaken and weary. The pyre had been built up in such a short time. Neither Keelin nor his mother had realised it was happening until Leesa was dragged out of bed by their father.

Keelin followed after them, begging his father not to let it happen, but he was too small and his voice carried no weight. Leesa was crying. Keelin’s little sister was young, but she was smarter than all of them. She knew what was happening and she didn’t go quietly. She screamed and she struggled, but she was so small and so weak, and their father was tall and strong. He carried her to the pyre and let the Arbiter bind her to the stake. Keelin remembered seeing tears in his father’s steel-grey eyes, the first and only time he’d ever seen the man cry.

Keelin tried to run to his sister, to free her from the stake she was tied to. A big guardsman took hold of him and held him tightly in a bear hug, dragging him away, far enough that he couldn’t interfere. Not so far that he wouldn’t see his little sister burn.

Derran burst out of the manor. Keelin’s older brother was still growing and gangly, but he was powerful nonetheless and had their father’s imposing, cold fury. Keelin remembered Derran and their father arguing while Arbiter Prin lit the pyre.

Keelin screamed for his brother to do something, and Derran grabbed hold of their father’s sword and charged towards the Arbiter. Their father picked up a stone and launched it at Derran; the missile struck hard, hitting him on the back of the head, and the boy went down, unconscious before he hit the floor.

Leesa started to scream as the flames reached her, and Keelin remembered that screaming going on for a long time. His mother collapsed, sobbing and broken. His father tended to the unconscious form of his eldest son. All around Keelin, the guards and house staff moved away, unable to watch as the youngest member of the Fowl family was burned alive. Keelin couldn’t turn away. The guard still held him tight, and all he could do was watch and listen to his little sister’s screams.

When Leesa went quiet, they all knew it was over. Arbiter Prin approached Keelin’s father and they talked for a while. Keelin had never seen his father look so deflated before. He’d brought the Arbiter upon them and he was responsible for the death of his own daughter. Keelin knew his father had never forgiven himself for that, but he couldn’t bring himself to care about the man.

Keelin remembered the Arbiter looking directly at him, and the guard’s grip grew tighter still. Prin walked close. Close enough for Keelin to see every pockmark on the man’s face. Close enough for him to smell the vanilla on his breath…

A machine above Keelin whirred into life. He opened his eyes. Elaina was standing nearby, panic written all over her face.

“What?” Keelin said, afraid to move now that he’d finally got the machine working.

“Is it supposed to do that?”

Keelin ignored her and focused on his memory of Arbiter Prin, fixating on the man’s face, the sound of his voice, the smell of his breath. The noises grew louder and louder, whirring and clunking, clicking and buzzing. The large metal circle on the floor in front of Keelin started to glow a bright gold that grew lighter and lighter until it was white and painful to look at.

Still Keelin kept his mind fixed on Arbiter Prin’s face, voice, and smell.

Elaina opened her mouth and shouted, but he couldn’t hear her over the sound of the machine, and soon the circle of light in front of him became so bright he had to shut his eyes for fear it might blind him.

Keelin focused on his image of Prin, trying desperately to block out everything else. He was shaking. Or perhaps it was the room shaking – he couldn’t tell, only that something was definitely shaking.

A hand grabbed hold of Keelin’s arm, and his eyes shot open just as Elaina pulled him out of the chair and threw him aside, jumping on top of him at the same time. They rolled together, away from the chair and the circle of light.

The floor shook and the sounds started to slow, fading away. Keelin stared into Elaina’s terrified face, and she stared back. She was sweating, wide-eyed, her breath coming short and fast.

“I don’t think it was meant to do that,” Elaina said after the noise had quietened down enough that she could be heard.

The chair Keelin had been sitting on was gone, buried beneath a pile of cogs and metal shards. He was fairly certain he wouldn’t have survived the burial.

“Thank you,” he said, looking back at Elaina. Her gaze was fixed on something over Keelin’s shoulder.

The light in the circle had faded to nothing, and lying in the centre of that circle was a pile of scorched bones.

“Is that…” Elaina started. “Was that him?”

Keelin rolled onto his feet and approached the bones. He shrugged.

“I thought you said this thing would find him.”

“Powerful magics mixed with lost technology.” He gave a bitter laugh. “Apparently it was designed to find a person and then bend the world to bring them here.” Elaina hit him hard on the arm, and he hissed in pain.

“You should know better than to play with magic, Stillwater,” she growled. “Was he already like this?”

Keelin nodded. “I think so. Maybe that’s why the machine, um, broke. Prin was already dead.”

“You sure it’s him?”

With a shrug, Keelin sank down onto the floor. He stared at the bones. He’d spent almost half his life searching for Arbiter Prin. He’d dedicated so much of his time and his resources into his vengeance, and now, right at the end, it had been snatched away from him. He felt empty, hollowed out and numb. Emotions warred within him, but they were all muted by the loss he felt so strongly. He’d lost his purpose.

“Been a long time coming.” Elaina sank down beside him. “Hatred of that man has kept you focused for so long. Must be like losing a friend, almost, eh?”

“He was never my friend.”

“Wasn’t talking about the man. I was talking about the hatred.”

“I can still hate him.”

Elaina sighed. “It’ll fade. It’s hard to keep a grudge against the dead. At some point you realise there ain’t nothing left to hate, and then it’s gone.”

She was right. Keelin didn’t want to admit it, but Elaina was right. He wanted to keep hating Prin, but the truth of it was, he couldn’t. The moment he’d realised the Arbiter was dead, that vengeance would never be his, Keelin had nothing left to give the man.

“I’ve spent most of my life chasing this bastard,” he said. “I hid it from everyone, but I was always searching for him. I’ve risked myself, my ship, and my crew, time and time again. I’ve lost good men in chasing down leads and they never even knew why. I’ve lost another two just getting here, and what for? A pile of old bones.”

Keelin felt tears stinging his eyes, and he wiped them away on the sleeve of his jacket.

“I think you mean you risked my ship,” Elaina said with a friendly shove.

Keelin laughed, but the mirth died in his throat.

“Ain’t gonna say you’ve done right,” Elaina said. “Mostly because you ain’t done right. Folk followed you and you led them into danger, got some of them killed even. Well, fuck. You’ve only gone and done what every captain has. The thing is though, are you gonna sit here and whine about it? Maybe get a few others killed because of it? Or are you going to get up off your arse and get your crew out of this haunted fucking city?”

Keelin let out a bark of bitter laughter. “To what end? I’ve lived every day for the past… I don’t know, longer than I can remember. All to the end of hunting down this… this corpse. I don’t…”

“Well that’s a load of shit. If all you wanted was this, you wouldn’t have saved all those people from Sev’relain. You set up a new town with Morrass.”

“All to get his charts.”

“What about my da? You convinced him to side with Morrass. That weren’t for the charts. Probably made getting them harder. What about that stunt ya pulled with the slavers guild? Was that for the charts?”

Keelin shook his head.

“So now you have to make a decision. Sit here and wallow over the not-so-recent death of the man you hated, or pick yaself up and apply the energy ya spent hunting him into something else. It just so happens I reckon we could use that energy in making Morrass’ dream for the isles work.”

Elaina stood and dusted herself off.

“Thing is, Stillwater, I intend to be queen of the isles, and I’d rather have you at my side than that slimy fuck Drake.”

Keelin considered the possibility. Sitting on a throne, in charge of a kingdom. Didn’t sound too appealing. Though sitting next to Elaina did. There was just one problem with the picture – Keelin didn’t want to betray his fellow captain. He actually quite liked Drake, and he believed in what they were trying to accomplish.

One thing was certain though – Elaina was right. Sitting around moping wasn’t about to solve their most immediate problem, and that was getting back to the ship without losing anyone else. His grief could wait.

Keelin stood and picked up a large rock shaken loose by the machine’s death throes. He approached the scorched remains, and for a long time he stood there, staring down at the blackened bones of the man who had been his focus for so long. Then Keelin raised the rock and brought it down on Prin’s skull.

Chapter 43 - The Phoenix

Aimi squinted, holding her torch high. She still couldn’t see all the way to the ceiling, and she couldn’t see the source of the scratching. Smithe had insisted the noise was just rats running about in the walls. Aimi wasn’t so sure. There was still that crawling feeling between her shoulders that said they were being watched.

“Found some steps,” Jotin said. “They lead down.”

The rest of the expedition crowded around the small doorway and peered down into the dark. Aimi kept her torch held high, determined to find the source of her discomfort.

“Go on then,” Smithe said. “Down ya go.”

“Fuck that, Smithe,” Jotin whined.

“You forgetting who’s in charge again?”

“I don’t give a fuck if that bastard soul-sucker Reowyn himself is in charge. There ain’t no fucking way I’m going down there. Place is creepy enough already without adding being trapped underground.”

“If you’re so set on seeing what’s down there, why don’t you go?” Jolan chimed in.

“Fine,” Smithe growled. The surly quartermaster snatched a torch from Jotin and tossed it down the steps. Aimi heard it bounce once, twice, and a third time, followed by oppressive silence.

“Maybe we should get out of here,” Smithe said.

“Reckon you might be right, mate,” Jotin said.

Aimi glanced down the stairway. Just twelve steps down, the torched rested on level ground. At least, it looked level – it was fairly hard to tell with all the movement.

“What is that?” she said, squinting at the shifting floor.

“Bugs,” Alfer said. “Might be best we give this one up. I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

Beside them, Jotin turned away from the stairwell. “Fuck!” he screamed.

Aimi slapped him on the arm for shrieking in her ear, then froze when she saw what Jotin was looking at. A lone figure stood in one of the praying squares, its features hidden in the darkness. Whoever it was, they were too short to be Kebble.

“Who the fuck are you?” demanded Smithe, taking a single step forward.

The figure tilted its head slightly, and Aimi caught sight of a tail of hair tied behind it. “Feather?” She stepped past Smithe. “Feather, is that you?”

The figure moved into the torchlight, its feet silent on the stone floor. Feather looked weary, his face smeared with blood and his eyes distant. His clothes were ripped in places and red gashes showed through the holes. Wherever the boy had been, he’d obviously been through a lot.

Aimi started to rush forwards but was yanked back by Smithe just as Feather leapt at her, slashing with claw-like hands. She stumbled, thrown off balance by the quartermaster, who let go of her and stepped in to meet Feather. The two grappled, and Smithe howled in pain as Feather’s fingers dug into his arms.

Feather was hissing and spitting like the evil cat that lived aboard The Phoenix, and Smithe was struggling just to stop the smaller man clawing his eyes out. Alfer and Jolan rushed forwards and each grabbed hold of one of Feather’s arms, pulling him off the quartermaster.

“Fuck!” Smithe yelled, waving his bleeding arms. “Lad, I don’t know what’s in your hold, but you’re gonna wish ya didn’t come back.”

Smithe drew a long knife from his belt and stalked forwards. Before Aimi could stop him, the quartermaster stabbed Feather in the chest six times. Alfer and Jolan danced away as Feather dropped to the floor, moaning and writhing.

“Bit of overkill, don’t you think, mate?” Alfer said sourly.

“Anybody else see his fingers?” Jolan said.

“I felt ’em,” Smithe said, leaning in for a closer look.

Aimi held her torch close, and promptly lost her stomach. Feather’s fingers had been gnawed away to the bone, leaving only sharpened claws behind. She finished throwing up, and Pavel moved to her side, muttering something low and soothing. She shrugged the priest away.

The others were crowded around Feather’s wriggling form, keeping their distance as they watched the boy’s death throes.

“My vote is for getting the fuck out of this place,” Aimi said, spitting out the foul acidic taste in her mouth.

There was a unanimous round of agreement, and the whole expedition was soon making its way to the temple’s exit, leaving the dying boy behind to bleed out his last.

“Well, at least we got something out of this shit hole,” Jolan said, bringing up the rear. “That statue oughta be worth… Fuck!”

Aimi spun around. Feather was attached to Jolan’s back, clawing at his chest and biting his face as the pirate flailed about. Aimi stumbled away, tripped, and collided with one of the arches, sinking down onto her arse.

Feather’s teeth found Jolan’s ear and the boy bit down, tearing a new scream from Jolan’s mouth. Smithe rushed forwards, his knife back in his hand, and punched Feather hard in the face. The metal of Smithe’s knuckle rings broke the boy’s nose with the first hit, and the quartermaster didn’t stop there. Smithe punched him again and again, until Feather lost his grip on Jolan and crashed to the floor.

“My fucking ear. My fucking ear! Tell me it’s still there, Jotin.” Jolan was shaking all over. Blood dripped steadily from the wounds on his head and chest. Pavel ran forwards to tend to him.

“Um…” Jotin shut his mouth and shrugged at his brother.

Feather was still twitching on the floor, gurgling on the blood weeping out of his ruined face. Smithe stood over the boy with his vicious knife still in hand.

“Fuck this.” Smithe dropped to his knees, straddling Feather. He started punching, each strike accompanied by a sickening thump. Aimi was certain she’d have lost her stomach again if there’d been anything left to lose.

By the time Smithe had finished, he was dripping with sweat and breathing heavily. His expression had turned from rage to disgust, and blood and worse dripped from his fist onto the floor beside Feather’s body. Pavel was busy wrapping a bandage around the head of a wincing Jolan, and the others were either silently watching Smithe or had turned away from the violence. Aimi huddled against the arch, her knees drawn up close.

Smithe stood and staggered away from the body, and Aimi got a good view of the wreckage the quartermaster left behind. Her stomach roiled and she dry-heaved.

There was nothing left of Feather’s pretty face to recognise. The boy’s head was all torn skin, smashed skull, blood, and bits of brain. Never before had Aimi seen anything so hideous, and none of the others had either, judging by their similar reactions. Even Smithe looked sickened to his soul at the carnage he’d wrought.

“Let’s…” Smithe took a deep breath, and it came out ragged. “Let’s go.”

Alfer appeared at Aimi’s side, holding out a hand to help her up. She took it gratefully and pulled herself to her feet, joining the others as they started once more towards the exit.

Aimi heard shuffling behind her, and turned to see Feather’s corpse twitching on the floor. As if tugged by a puppet’s strings, the headless body rose up into a crouch, facing the fleeing expedition.

“Ya gotta be fucking joking,” Smithe said. “Ya don’t even have a head!”

Feather’s body lurched forwards a step, and Smithe grabbed the torch from Aimi’s hand and flung it at the boy.

“Run!” the quartermaster screamed. It was all the permission they needed. As one, the group turned and sprinted for the dim rectangle of light that marked their way out.

With six people all trying to get out of the temple at the same time, it was a fair squeeze through the doorway and Aimi clipped her shoulder against the stone door. She cried out in pain as her momentum spun her around, and she tripped over her own feet, crashing to the ground. The world twisted and spun about as she rolled down the steps.

At the bottom of the stairs, Alfer stopped at Aimi’s side and picked her up once again. Every limb hurt, and she was grazed and cut all over. Her knees were protesting at the beating they’d taken, but there were more important things to worry about.

“Where’s Kebble?” Jotin said in a high, panic-stricken voice. The marksman was nowhere to be seen.

“Which way did we come to get here?” Smithe said.

Alfer pointed. “That way, I think.”

“You think or you know?”

Feather’s headless body lurched into view in the temple doorway. The vines infesting the building started to move, winding around pillars and crawling across the stone like snakes. The chittering noise was louder now, and a dark tide of legs and carapaces flooded out of the temple around Feather’s feet.

“I think.” Alfer said, walking backwards.

“It’ll do,” Smithe whispered. “Everybody, run. No stopping for anything. Go!”

Chapter 44 - The Phoenix

Kebble wandered alone through the ruined city that had once been his home. The figures he saw in the streets weren’t spirits; they were ghosts of his past. People he’d once known, people he’d once loved. All dead and gone. All his fault. Now nothing but figments of his imagination.

There had always been a tugging. Kebble had felt it for long over a thousand years, an invisible rope always pulling him back to HwoyonDo. He’d searched for his death everywhere in the known world, but here and now, he knew why he’d never been able to find that end he longed for.

Kebble was a relic of a long-forgotten past. He neither desired nor deserved to live, and neither did he belong to the current age. His god had cursed him with long life. Now Kebble realised it was only until his return, only until his god could claim his miserable soul.

He passed the house that had once belonged to his first wife. They’d met at the library, both children of patronless scholars. The romance had been a whirlwind of passion and competition. Hiria had been as determined as Kebble, though she simply hadn’t been able to keep up with the speed at which he absorbed knowledge. They married in the spring, and by the end of that winter, Hiria had given Kebble his first son.

Kebble moved on. He had no wish to dig too deep into those memories. He remembered his first son as both a babe and as an old, wrinkled man bitter at his father’s permanent youth. Kebble remembered all of his children in their twilight years.

Walking past his father’s ghost, Kebble averted his eyes. He had no wish to see the man beaten and bloody, clutching his right hand to his chest and praying his fingers weren’t broken. It was a dangerous game his father had played with the criminals of HwoyonDo, and eventually it cost him everything.

Kebble’s weary legs carried him to the great library, house of all knowledge the Forgotten Empire had ever earned. In many ways it represented the beginning of his journey, the beginning of his life. He had a feeling it would also be the end of both. Kebble wondered if any of the texts inside had survived the many years. Perhaps, before his end, he would learn something new.

Turning away from the library, Kebble set his feet back towards the temple. It was likely the others would have finished looting the place by now, and they might need help returning to the gate. Kebble would lead them to their destination. He wished to speak to Captain Stillwater once more, to thank the man and say goodbye.

A spirit drifted past Kebble. He couldn’t see them, not like some could, but he could feel them. It was their hatred towards him that he sensed. It was hard not to feel that much malice emanating from something, even an ethereal whisper like the spirits that infested what had become of the empire.

Another spirit floated past, and then another, and another. Kebble found himself assaulted from all sides by the hatred flowing from the creatures. They were all going the same way, towards the temple.

Kebble broke into a run. He needed to warn the others what was coming.

Chapter 45 - Starry Dawn

They walked in silence for a long time after leaving the Observatory. Elaina could tell Keelin was deep in thought, and she could guess the subject. It wasn’t every day someone asked you to betray a friend and sit your arse down on a throne. Not that the pirates had a throne. Now that Elaina thought about – and she thought about it quite a lot – she wanted one. A crown seemed a little ostentatious, but all kings and queens had thrones, and some of them were more than a little grand. Elaina imagined a nice wooden chair, tall and exquisitely carved out of driftwood salvaged from their enemies’ scuttled navies. The image brought a smile to her face.

Keelin stopped and threw up a hand so suddenly that Elaina walked into it.

“What the fuck…” she started, but the complaint died in her throat.

Bronson was back, and the big pirate looked even worse than before. The roads were quite well lit, with the clouds clearing up and the moon and stars shining down upon them. Even in the dark, Elaina could see the man wasn’t only infested with spirits; the vines that crawled along the walls of the buildings had taken up residence in his body as well.

Dark green cords wound up his legs, through his bloody skin, and inside his body. There was a small, wiggling end protruding from Bronson’s ruined eye. The pirate’s skeletal hands had been snapped away, and in their place sat Keelin’s lost cutlasses, wedged into the ragged flesh of Bronson’s arms and held in place by coiling vines.

“I’m starting to form a real dislike of this city,” Keelin said quietly.

“You always were a bit slow, Stillwater,” Elaina replied, taking a shaky step forward. If she could get close to Bronson without him attacking, it was possible she could hypnotise the spirits again. Hopefully she could distract them long enough for Keelin to deal some damage.

“We should be able to take him together,” Keelin said, though he didn’t sound too certain.

“Maybe you ain’t noticed, Stillwater,” Elaina said, already beginning to sway from side to side as she approached the thing that had once been Bronson, “but he’s pretty mangled and he ain’t down. Killing these things ain’t really an option.”

“So what should we do?”

“Hamstring the fucker and run like all the Hells are behind us. Which is pretty close to the reality of it.”

It was almost like a dance as Elaina moved step by step towards Bronson, swaying from side to side as she went. It was a trick she’d learned back on Fango, only back then she’d never thought she’d actually have a practical use for it, as none of the spirits there were homicidal.

Bronson lurched forwards. Elaina saw the cutlass coming and could do nothing to stop it, couldn’t dodge it. The world seemed to slow, and then she was flung backwards past Keelin and rolling in the dust.

Elaina shook her head and looked up. Keelin was wielding her sword with a skill beyond her own, swatting away Bronson’s wild slashes and scoring a number of hits on the bigger man’s body. The damage didn’t so much as slow him down.

Bronson brought both cutlasses over his head and down, forcing Keelin to block. Driven to his knees, there was nothing Keelin could do but yelp in surprise when a vine ripped its way out of Bronson’s forearm and wrapped itself around Keelin’s hands.

Elaina leapt past the restrained captain, right inside Bronson’s reach, and planted her little dagger in the monster’s good eye, then ripped it out and slashed at the vine holding Keelin.

Tearing himself free, Keelin shook his hands violently until the damned thing fell away. Elaina danced away from a wild swipe and crashed into him, sending them both rolling in the dirt.

Keelin was on his feet first and helped Elaina to hers. His hands were red and blisters were already beginning to show, but they had bigger concerns in the form of a mad spirit attempting to slice them in two.

Bronson was thrashing about wildly, swinging from side to side with Keelin’s cutlasses. The man opened his mouth as if to scream and another vine thrust forth, ripping through his cheek and coiling about his neck.

Elaina glanced at Keelin and then nodded upwards. Keelin nodded back; he’d seen what she had – they’d switched positions with Bronson, and the big pirate was now between them and the Observatory. Elaina scooped a rock from the ground and hurled it at the spirit-infested pirate, a last distraction before she and Keelin turned and fled.

Chapter 46 - The Phoenix

Kebble watched the six figures fleeing through the streets. From his elevated position they looked so small. They ran with reckless abandon, terrified by the lone follower. Only he wasn’t alone. From his vantage point, Kebble could see the ground moving with the creatures that flowed after the expedition.

It was a trick of the mind, and Kebble squinted to see past what his head was struggling to comprehend. The earth wasn’t moving; it was the millions of insects crawling and scuttling along that made it look as though the ground were giving chase itself.

The six fleeing pirates probably didn’t even know just how much danger they were in. Clearly the spirit that had taken and warped Feather’s body was no mere angry whisper – more like a bellow of rage. Kebble hadn’t realised they could grow so powerful.

Kebble leapt across a fallen skybridge and ran from rooftop to rooftop in an attempt to keep his comrades in sight. They were moving in the right direction, though he didn’t think they would make it out of the city without his help. He only hoped they would be safe if they made it back to the forest.

Some of the six were starting to flag and fall behind. The priest of Pelsing was more stumbling than running, and the others weren’t faring much better. The insects and Feather’s body weren’t moving quickly, but their pursuit was steady, relentless. Echoing shouts reached Kebble’s ears and he saw the priest stagger to a halt and drop to his knees, clutching at his chest. Smithe skidded to a halt and ran back to him, shouting. The cry echoed up through the buildings, but Kebble couldn’t pick out the quartermaster’s words. Smithe grabbed the priest beneath his arms and hauled the smaller man to his feet, giving him a rough shove to drive him onwards.

Kebble heard another shout, and he set off at a sprint for the south side of the rooftop. There, looking down into the streets below, he saw Captains Stillwater and Black also running for their lives, chased by a figure that looked a lot like it had once been Bronson. Any vines Bronson passed came to life, wriggling and detaching themselves from the walls they infested, slithering along the ground like snakes.

Kebble ran across a skybridge and then across the next rooftop, leaping over a small gap to another new building. He could see the gate from his position, and it wouldn’t be long before the expedition could too. The wards on the gate were designed to keep the forest out, but they’d long ago failed; it was unlikely they would work now to keep the forest in.

Kebble moved quickly to the east side of the rooftop and took up position, drawing his rifle from its sling and bringing it up to his shoulder. Looking down the sight helped him concentrate, helped him focus on the details.

The six members of the expedition were still running from the spirit chasing them. They were moving much more slowly now, with many of the group clearly struggling. Fear was driving them on past their own exhaustion. Kebble swept the barrel of his rifle along the street until he came to the figure chasing them.

Feather’s headless body lurched along in a broken lope, trailing gore and insects behind him. With so many of the little creatures, anyone caught would soon be reduced to their bones, and the bugs might not even stop there.

Kebble steadied his breathing and took aim. He let the world recede around him as he targeted Feather’s heart and slowly squeezed the trigger.

Feather’s body was flung sideways, rolling to a stop in the street. The insect swarm surged around him like a protective shield, but nothing could protect the boy from Kebble.

Kebble reloaded and took aim again. His last shot had been dead on, punching through Feather’s chest right where his heart would be. The boy’s body was still twitching, still struggling to get to its feet. Even with no head and no heart, the spirit was still able to control the corpse. Kebble admitted then that he had no idea how to destroy the spirit, but he might be able to slow it down long enough for the others to escape.

As Feather struggled back to his feet, Kebble aimed lower and fired again.

Feather’s left knee exploded and the body hit the ground once more, flailing, his limbs flinging out in every direction. Kebble reloaded again and took aim once more. Feather got his hands beneath him and crawled onto all fours, though one leg dragged uselessly behind him. The insects surged around and over him, coating the boy in thousands of little shells. His vision of the body obscured, Kebble aimed for what he hoped was the right knee.

A sharp pain flared on Kebble’s neck, and he swatted at it with his hand. When he pulled it away he found a squashed beetle, its legs still twitching, and it wasn’t alone. Hundreds of the little bugs were starting to crest the ledge around the rooftop, and they were swarming towards Kebble.

Chapter 47 - The Phoenix

Keelin staggered to a halt, leaning against a wall that crumbled under his weight. He was breathing hard and struggling to keep up with Elaina. Keelin hated to admit it, but the woman was in better shape than he was. She barely even seemed out of breath, though the red in her cheeks and the fire in her eyes made her beautiful.

They’d put some distance between themselves and the monstrosity that had once been Bronson. It wasn’t enough. The big pirate was slow, but seemingly unstoppable, and nor did he tire. Keelin didn’t even want to think about how the bastard was controlling the vines snaking their way through the ruined city.

Elaina winked at him and moved forwards to the intersection. They’d been heading north for the most part and needed to cut east if they were to meet up with the others at the gate.

A shot ripped through the air and echoed around the streets. Keelin recognised the sound of Kebble’s rifle. He looked up, but he couldn’t see the marksman anywhere.

“Trouble, ya think?” Elaina said.

“We’re already in trouble,” Keelin replied between breaths. “Not a stretch to think the others are too.”

At the end of the street, six members of the expedition barrelled past. They didn’t stop to look, so intent were they on their headlong flight. Keelin shared a glance with Elaina and then pushed back into a run alongside her.

Another shot echoed around them as they reached the intersection and stopped. To the right Keelin saw the six pirates running for their lives. His heart skipped a beat when he realised Aimi was among them, and a wave of relief washed over him, followed quickly by a much larger wave of guilt. Keelin looked left to see what they were running from, and his blood froze.

Scuttling up a vertical wall was a decapitated body, and from the remnants of shredded clothing it wore, Keelin could tell it was – or at least had been – Feather. It was moving like a grotesque out of the deepest nightmares. Thousands of insects flowed around the lad, far more than was worth even thinking about counting. Above, Kebble was running and leaping from rooftop to rooftop, his rifle in his hand.

“Come on,” Elaina growled, grabbing hold of Keelin’s hand and pulling him into a run.

They chased after the six pirates, closing on them quickly. Keelin shouted, a wordless cry intended to get their attention, and it worked. Aimi glanced behind and slowed to a stop, the others slowing with her.

Keelin collapsed to one knee, the exhaustion making him forget the peril just for a moment. He felt as though he hadn’t slept, nor eaten, for days, and he had so little energy left. If it weren’t for the murderous spirits trying to evict them, he was fairly certain he could collapse there and then and sleep on the street for a few days.

Aimi threw herself at Keelin and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him close. He hugged her back, vaguely aware of Elaina shaking her head and walking away.

“You scared me,” Aimi said, pulling away from Keelin long enough to punch him, and then leaned into him again.

Keelin stood and pulled her into a close embrace. Aimi sobbed once against his chest and then drew in a deep breath. The little woman went rigid in his arms, and a moment later she was pushing him away, a confused look on her face.

“Wonderful little reunion, Cap’n,” Smithe said. “But I reckon we stirred up a serpent’s nest. Best we fuck off.”

“That thing was Feather?” Keelin said, ignoring the strange look Aimi was giving him.

“Aye.”

“Well, we found Bronson.”

As if on cue, the big spirit-infested pirate lurched around the corner just a few hundred feet away, the vines he controlled snaking along the ground around him. Bronson wasted no time breaking into a sprint towards the expedition.

“Oh, fuck me,” Smithe said, and it was clear just how tired the quartermaster was. The rings under his eyes, the slight stoop to his shoulders – he looked about ready to give up.

Another shot ripped through the air and Bronson crashed to the ground, the vines tangling around his limbs as he sprawled.

“Time to go,” Keelin shouted with one last look at Bronson; he was already surging back to his feet. They ran. Keelin’s feet hurt like all the Hells and his legs felt wooden, his knees barely bending. The others didn’t look much better. He tried to think back to a time when he wasn’t running, and the only image that came to mind was Elaina pinned up against the wall. Keelin threw a guilty look at Aimi and almost tripped over his own feet.

“Turn left,” Alfer shouted from behind, and as Keelin swung around a corner the gate that led into the forest came into glorious view.

Another gun shot rang out, and Keelin slowed to a stop and turned, quickly steering Jotin around him to stop the pirate knocking him over. The others ran past as Keelin looked along the rooftops, trying to spot the marksman.

“Cap’n?” Smithe said, pulling up next to him.

“Kebble.” Keelin pointed.

Kebble almost seemed to be dancing with Feather’s headless corpse, dodging and twisting away from its clumsy attacks, then hitting the insect-covered boy with the butt of his rifle. Feather staggered towards the lip of the rooftop and careened over the side, falling to the ground below with a bone-shattering crash – but Kebble was still dancing, swatting at the air around his head.

“Shit,” Smithe said as Bronson’s wrecked, vine-covered body barrelled around the corner.

Keelin spun on his heel and ran, Smithe at his side. A moment later he heard a thud and Smithe crying out. Keelin turned to see his quartermaster on the ground, a vine wrapped around his legs, pulling him towards Bronson.

Another shot rang out and Bronson hit the street again, rolling away with the force of the bullet, but the vine around Smithe’s legs didn’t let go. Keelin saw Smithe’s nasty little knife lying on the ground between them. Smithe saw it too.

“Cap’n,” the quartermaster cried, clawing at the ground as the vine dragged him away. “Help!”

Keelin had been waiting for this chance for so long. A perfectly reasonable way to rid himself of the man who had challenged his authority for years. No one would argue that the captain was to blame if Smithe was killed in HwoyonDo by a murderous spirit that had taken over Bronson’s body.

Keelin turned away.

With a growl that was frustration at himself as much as the situation, Keelin turned back and ran to his quartermaster’s aid. He couldn’t deny he wanted to be rid of the man, but he wasn’t about to sacrifice Smithe to the evil spirits of a land he had led them to. Besides, no matter how much of a hateful bastard Smithe was, he was also part of Keelin’s crew.

Keelin kicked Smithe’s knife within the quartermaster’s grasp and drew Elaina’s sword from his belt, skidding to a stop by the pirate’s legs and hacking at the vine that held him tight. Bronson started to rise again, and Keelin left Smithe to free himself and closed in on the monster that had once been one of his crew.

He slashed, putting his weight behind the blow, before Bronson could get his cutlass hands up to block. The sword buried itself in the big pirate’s neck and damned near cut all the way through, but it was a short blade and Bronson had a lot of muscle. Vines erupted from the wound, snaking up around the almost-severed head. Keelin stumbled backwards and collided with Smithe, who was also staring in horror.

“Fuck it,” Smithe said quietly.

Keelin glanced at his quartermaster and nodded. “Agreed.”

They turned and ran after the rest of the group, leaving Bronson’s struggling form behind them.

When they reached the gate, Keelin turned back to the ruined city of HwoyonDo. Bronson had given up the chase and joined Feather on the rooftops, charging after Kebble as the marksman leapt from roof to roof, occasionally turning to offer the monsters combat.

“We can’t leave him,” Keelin whispered, trying to think of a way to rescue Kebble.

“We can’t help him,” Elaina said. “We have no way to kill those things. Besides, I kind of think he wants us to go.”

“What do you know?” Keelin snapped. “He ain’t one of your crew.”

One more shot rang out and something hit the gateway beside them. Keelin glanced at the stone, and then back towards the city. He couldn’t make out what was happening in the dim light, but he knew Kebble couldn’t keep fighting forever. Sooner or later the marksman would slip up and the spirits would take him.

“Let’s move out,” he said with a heavy sigh. “Stick close together and move quickly. We’ll drink a toast to the fallen when we’re back on the ship.”

Chapter 48 - The Phoenix

Kebble staggered out of the doorway and onto the moonlit street. He was bloody and weary, limping and using his rifle as a crutch. He had nothing left, and despite his best efforts the spirits were still chasing him down. From behind came the chittering of millions of insects and the crash of Bronson searching the building. Still, he limped on, unable to simply give up and let them catch him.

Immortality, he decided, was a strange thing. He’d spent so many years searching for his death, yet now that it was stalking him and the end was near, he found he couldn’t outrun it fast enough.

His strength wavered and he collapsed onto one knee. For a moment all he could do was sag against his rifle and cough. The rattle in his chest sounded wet, and he knew that was a bad sign. After a moment he looked up. The great library of HwoyonDo rose up in front of him.

“Fitting.” Kebble pulled himself back to his feet and staggered onwards down the ruined street, a ruin he had caused. He mounted the library’s steps slowly, twelve of them leading up to the grand doors. As a child, and even a young man, he’d climbed the stairs two or three at a time, always in a rush to get to the books, to learn. Now he struggled up each one, putting more and more weight on his rifle.

He paused at the threshold, the doors themselves having long since succumbed to time and rotted away. For just a moment Kebble considered turning back. The ghosts within the ruined library were even stronger, almost as though they were real, rather than just figments of his imagination. Kebble shook his head and staggered inside.

A thick layer of dust coated the floor, and moonlight streamed in through a hole in the roof high above. The front desk was long since gone, only dents in the stone proof that it had ever been there. To either side stood the bookshelves, row upon row of them stretching up into the darkness. But they were all empty, the books long since turned to dust. All of the knowledge the Empire had ever garnered, gone. Only Kebble remained, only his memories of those books remained; and after a thousand years he’d forgotten half of all that he’d learned.

In front of Kebble stood a statue, one of the six faces of his god. The scholar held a book in one hand and a knife in the other, a reminder that knowledge can be used as a weapon. Kebble collapsed at its feet, dropping his rifle and turning to lean against the cold stone. His breathing was painful now, a sharp stabbing in his chest with every draw.

Two figures stood at the doorway, silhouetted against the light. One was tall and broad, surrounded by a writhing mass. The other was small, made smaller still by the lack of a head, and there was a sea of insects creeping towards Kebble. Angry spirits finally come to finish the job.

Something tore inside him, and Kebble gasped, closing his eyes against the pain in his chest. When he opened them again a man was standing in front of him. He was tall and regal, with flowing brown robes and a face that was all too familiar. Kebble attempted to sit a little straighter, but his arms wouldn’t respond. It seemed wrong to slouch so much in front of a god.

“I suppose…” Kebble coughed and tasted blood. “Both our times are finally over now. I’m the last one, the only one who still knows your name. We’ll fade from this world together.” There was a symmetry to it that brought a smile to Kebble’s bloodied lips.

The scholar stared down at him, a book in one hand and in the other a gold statue of his six faces, each one with different gemstones for eyes. It was the statue that belonged in the temple – the temple his crewmates had looted. Kebble looked up, realisation dawning. His god was smiling at him.

Chapter 49 - Starry Dawn

Elaina stumbled through the trees onto the sandy beach and raised a hand to her eyes to ward off the sun. Blinking away the glare, she looked up and down the coastline.

“There,” Aimi said, pointing down the beach.

Elaina squinted, and her heart started to hammer in her chest. A ship floated leisurely in its anchorage just a short way from the shore. The Phoenix had never been such a welcome sight, not even when Tanner had first shown it to his daughter and made her captain.

The remains of the expedition trudged one by one through the last of the trees and onto the sand. They were weary and beyond exhausted, but all eight of them had survived the trip back from HwoyonDo.

“Oh, blessed fuckin’ sea,” Jotin growled through a parched throat, dropping to his knees on the sand and rolling onto his back to stare up at the bright blue sky.

Pavel collapsed the moment sand was under his feet again. The priest was used to relative comfort, and Elaina wagered he’d never experienced anything like the hardship they’d all just been through. His crimson robes were ripped and stained dark with sweat and worse, and the man looked as though he’d lost every bit of fat on his body; his cheeks were gaunt and his eyes sunken.

Elaina hadn’t fared much better. In truth, she’d lived as a pirate for every day of her life, and not once before had she been so dirty, dishevelled, and tired. Her clothes were little more than rags, and she couldn’t decide if they smelled worse or better than her skin. Dried, stale sweat coated every bit of her, and she didn’t want to know how large the bags under her eyes were.

Elaina had lost track of time since leaving HwoyonDo. They’d marched for days until they were all sore and swollen, chafed both in skin and in mood. After that they’d started resting from time to time, but none of them had been able to get much sleep no matter how exhausted they were. The spirits that had taken over Bronson and Feather were still behind them somewhere, and no one wanted to be the next victim. Those who did manage to drop off often awoke terrified by the nightmares that swirled inside their heads.

“Take a few minutes,” Keelin said as he sank down onto his knees. “Then we make for the dinghy. The sooner we’re back on the boat, the sooner we can all rest. Maybe try to forget…”

Nobody argued. They were all grateful for the rest, even if it was a short one. All too soon for Elaina’s weary legs, they were moving again, trudging sliding footprints through the sand. As the sun reached its zenith, they found their dinghy right where they’d left it.

In silence, the group made the boat ready and pushed it out into the shallows, jumping in and settling into place for the row back to The Phoenix.

“What’s that?” Alfer said, letting go of his oar for a moment to point at something along the treeline.

Everybody looked, and Elaina felt her skin crawling. Bronson stood between two giant trees, staring out towards them, only he was more plant than man now, his flesh nothing more than patches of skin around wriggling green tentacles. Elaina looked away and concentrated on her oar, pulling hard against the water. The others soon followed her course.

Chapter 50 - The Phoenix

“Throw me a bucket,” Elaina shouted up to those on deck as the first of their expedition made the climb up to The Phoenix. After Pavel had disappeared over the railing, Elaina filled the bucket with seawater and started up the rope ladder. Aimi would have been impressed by the woman’s strength, carrying a bucket as she climbed, but she hated Elaina too much to be impressed by anything the bitch did.

Aimi was next up, and as she climbed she watched Elaina lower a second bucket into the sea. Accepting the offer of help at the top, Aimi finally found her feet back on the wooden decking of The Phoenix and marvelled at just how good it felt.

Alfer followed her up the ladder, and no sooner was the old veteran aboard than Elaina handed him her pack with an instruction to keep a close eye on it. The pirate captain picked up a bucket of water in each hand and walked up the nearest set of steps onto the poop deck, where she proceeded to strip off and throw her soiled clothes to the planks. Before long Elaina was stark naked, and more than a few of The Phoenix’s crew were giving her the ogling of a lifetime. Elaina ignored the attention and picked up a bucket of seawater and dumped it over her head. Aimi winced at the pang of jealousy she felt; the desire to be clean and in a new set of clothes was almost painful. As Elaina dumped the second bucket of water over her head, Pavel appeared carrying a fresh set of clothing.

Aimi turned away. Most of the expedition were up and lying on the deck; Smithe appeared over the railing and then turned to give Keelin a hand. The captain staggered to the centre of the main deck and leaned against the mast, closing his eyes against the torrent of questions that were fired his way.

“Where’s Feather?” Morley said, his voice booming over the din. “And Bronson, and Kebble?”

“Gone,” Keelin said without opening his eyes. “We’re all that made it back.”

“What about the treasure?” asked another of the crew. Aimi struggled to remember the man’s name, but she was too exhausted to put much effort into it.

“Jotin,” Keelin prompted.

Jotin groaned and rolled to his knees, reaching into his pack and pulling out the gold statue of Kebble’s forgotten god, dumping it onto the deck and collapsing beside it.

After a few moments the angry shouts started.

“That it?”

“We paid three lives for a hunk of gold?”

“Quiet!” Smithe roared over the arguing pirates. “Cap’n’s information was good. We found the damned city right where it was meant to be. Didn’t have time to properly loot the fucking place though on account of being attacked by some fucking… things that were wearing the skins of our own mates.”

Smithe pointed at the statue. “That there is all we managed to get. And be fucking glad we got that much, eh.” With that the quartermaster sank down onto the deck with the others.

Aimi sighed and forced herself to her feet, aiming for the captain’s cabin in the hopes of stripping out of her clothes and scrubbing her skin clean. Keelin caught up to her as she reached the door, Morley hot his heels.

“Are you aiming for sleep or a bath?” Keelin said with a weary smile.

“Both,” Aimi said. “Maybe the other way around though.”

“Maybe I’ll join you.”

“Wouldn’t you rather join Captain Black?” Aimi snapped, trying the handle only to find the door locked. She ground her teeth and stepped aside as Morley handed the key to the captain.

“What’s got into you lately?” Keelin said quietly. Morley stood close by, attempting to look like he wasn’t eavesdropping.

“You,” Aimi whispered back, “getting into her!” Aimi pointed towards Elaina, who was dumping another bucket of water over herself on the poop deck.

“What?”

“Don’t bother lying, Keelin. Back in the city, after we met up. I could smell her all over you.”

“Oh…” Keelin fitted the key into the lock and turned it. “I’m sorry.”

Aimi snorted and pushed the door open. “You want to know the worst bit about it?”

Keelin was silent.

Aimi struggled against her better judgement, still trying to decide whether to tell him or not. Eventually her weariness won out and she decided she simply didn’t care any more.

“I’m pregnant.” She stepped into the cabin and slammed the door in his face.

Part 4 – Dead Men Tell No Tales

Sacrifices will need to be made said the Oracle

Aye said Drake

They will all look to you to lead them said the Oracle

Aye said Drake

Chapter 51 – Fortune

New Sev’relain had grown far beyond the hundred or so dispossessed refugees the town had started with. Drake wagered they now numbered at least ten times that. The forest had taken a beating, but there were still plenty of trees on the island and those that had been chopped down now stood tall as the framework for their home. Drake no longer bothered to count how many buildings had been erected, and more were rising up from the dirt every day.

The wall had been rebuilt and finished a good long while back, and now provided a hefty layer of protection against any who might try to come from the forest. Guard towers were set along its length, and those who manned them were well known to be crack shots with either bow or rifle – not that they had many of the latter.

The port was another matter, and they were well defended there too. Most of the work had gone into building up the piers and berths, allowing as many ships as possible at the docks. New Sev’relain was quickly becoming a thriving trade town, and they needed as much space as possible for both the merchant ships and those being outfitted for war. A number of war scorpions had been shipped off North Storm and sat ready, just beyond the shoreline in case of attack. The engineers had built ingenious platforms for the war machines that could be turned in a full circle, so no hostile ship intending to enter the bay would be safe.

Drake marvelled at the number of ships they’d brought together. He’d owned more at Fortune’s Rest, of course, but most of those had been smaller vessels, not suited for combat at sea. The thought of the Rest brought a bitter tang to his musings.

Ruien Portly had arrived with no more than twenty ships in total. Drake had entrusted the old pirate with repurposing the Rest into a fleet with as many combat-ready vessels as possible. Some had simply not been fit for purpose, and more were lost at sea during a particularly violent storm that the fat bastard should have seen coming. Drake would have strung Ruien up for his foolishness, but the man was a seasoned commander and right now they needed as many of those as they could get.

Not all of the vessels floating around the bay were Drake’s to command, and that rankled him more than he could say. A few weeks ago ten ships had appeared on the horizon, and they claimed to be from Chade. At first Drake had been more than a little pleased that Anders had managed to convince Rose and her Thorn to help out, at least until the man in charge had informed Drake that the ships answered to Elaina Black and no one else. They were waiting in the bay for her return, and claimed they wouldn’t take part in any conflict without her. Not even Tanner had been able to change their position.

To make matters even more infuriating, Zothus had finally returned home just a few days ago, and he’d brought fourteen ships and a few hundred freed slaves with him. The ex-slaves were quickly integrated into either the town or the fleet, and Zothus claimed they were courtesy of Keelin, but the ships were another matter. Much like the fleet from Chade, the ships from Larkos claimed they answered to Elaina Black and no one else.

Tanner’s sea bitch of a daughter was in command of twenty-four battle-ready vessels, and she was very much in the column of missing. In truth, Drake wasn’t certain he wanted her to appear. He’d agreed with Tanner to make Elaina his queen just as soon as the crown was good and certain, but it would be a marriage of necessity. Drake didn’t want any of the Blacks sharing his bed, no matter how good she might look naked.

A new ship, one Drake didn’t recognise, was drifting into a berth down at the docks. It would be safe; T’ruck would have made sure of that. The giant captain’s behemoth floated at anchor just outside the bay. North Storm was almost fully manned now, and T’ruck insisted on inspecting every ship that came to New Sev’relain.

“Another one?” Beck said. Her compulsion was a comforting feeling now that Drake was so used to it. “And more sails on the horizon.”

“Looks like,” Drake said, turning a warm smile on the Arbiter. Beck returned the smile for a brief second before it dropped from her face, replaced by something a lot like hunger. The Arbiter was in Drake’s bed almost on a nightly basis these days, and it was something he was more than a little thankful for. Beck was wild and passionate, and ever since their encounter with the Drurr, her appetite had been insatiable. She was holding something back though, and Drake yearned to find out what. He spotted a familiar figure wandering the streets of his little town. A smile stretched across his face and he waved to the man, beckoning him up to the balcony.

By the time the door opened and Anders stepped through, he was already carrying two drinks and Drake wagered the man would have had another if he could only grow a third hand. Anders may be a booze-soaked sot, but he was also one of the most reliable spies Drake had ever employed. He also owed his life to Drake more than once over, and that made him almost as loyal as family.

“Oh, fuck me,” Anders said, near jumping out of his skin when he spied Beck sitting nearby. “Must you wear that coat, my dear? You damned near scared the intoxication right out of me, and believe me, you wouldn’t like me when I’m sober.”

“I don’t like you now,” Beck said flatly.

“Charming,” Anders said, finding an empty table and setting his drinks down. “That’s only because you don’t yet know me. I’m a very amiable sort once…”

“Anders,” Drake said.

“Aye, Captain.” Anders snapped to mock attention. “Are you aware you have an Arbiter in your midst, Drake? She’s wearing the coat and everything.”

Beck had taken to wearing her coat again soon after the slaughter of the Drurr. Whether it was because she no longer cared who knew of her profession or because she needed the reminder herself, Drake was unsure. The Arbiter stood up, sauntered over to Anders, and plucked one of his mugs from the table before retreating to her seat near the door.

“Damned unnerving,” Anders continued. “Did I ever tell you an Arbiter almost killed me once?”

“Heretic, are you?” Beck said.

“No,” Anders said with a dramatic shiver as Beck’s compulsion forced the truth from him. “By all the gods, that never gets any less unpleasant, does it? No, no heretic. I just happened to be in the way of an Arbiter looking for our good Captain Drake here.”

Beck cocked an eyebrow at Drake. He shrugged.

“Got some news, have we, Anders?” Drake said. “I do hope it’s good.”

“Well, of course it isn’t.” Anders collapsed into a chair and scooped up his one remaining mug of beer. “See, the thing about good news is that it travels fast, faster indeed than should really be possible. Why, I could hear some good news and bear it here more expediently than any other, and yet somehow the word of that news would still outdistance me.

“Bad news, on the other hand, likes to hide and wait. It likely made it here a good few days ago, where it’s been waiting for me to deliver it just because it hates to be its own bearer.”

“Anders,” Drake prompted with a growl.

“Alright. Just remember how we messengers detest getting shot.” The drunkard sent a glance at Beck. “Believe me, I know from experience.”

After a few moments of silence, Anders finally got around to delivering his news. “They’re coming, Drake. Now. Already.”

“Fuck.” Drake wondered how quickly he could get the rest of the ships ready. “How many?”

“At least fifty ships. Mostly galleons. A few Man of Wars.”

Drake looked out at the bay. Without the ships from Chade and Larkos they would be smashed, overrun by sheer numbers. He needed to come up with a way to convince them to fight for him rather than Elaina Black.

“How is it this is the first we’re hearing of those sorts of numbers?” he said.

“That Five Kingdoms whelp of a king is a smart bastard,” Anders said around a mouthful of beer. “He locked down Land’s End while they made the preparations. I barely managed to get out ahead of the fleet. It was an impressive feat of ingenuity. You should have…”

“How long do we have?”

Anders sighed. “Not long. Probably not even long enough for me to make my usual escape. I tell you this so you realise the depth of my predicament in bringing you this dire news.”

“Aye, you’re a real hero, Anders,” Drake growled. “Where in the Hells is Stillwater?”

“Who?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“There’s something else,” Anders said with a heavy sigh. “They have a pirate directing them here, making sure they don’t fall foul of your treacherous waters. A man by the name of Poole?”

“Daimen Poole?” Drake said.

“Most likely. Thick isles accent. Dirty-straw hair and a squat nose.”

“Aye, that’s Poole. Treasonous bastard.”

“He seemed quite reluctant, if that’s any consolation.”

“Not really.” It wasn’t enough that the bastards had built a fleet the size of which hadn’t been seen for hundreds of years – now they were turning Drake’s own allies against him. He was starting to regret leaving Poole to die.

“Drake?” Beck’s voice snapped him back to the problem at hand. “What do we do?”

Drake stormed over to Anders’ table, plucked his drink from his hand and downed it, to a chorus of moans from the drunkard.

“We gather the captains and tell them to get their ships in order.”

Chapter 52 - Fortune

The Righteous Indignation was cleared of stragglers, drunks, and anyone without the title of captain or first mate. By the time Anders sat down at Drake’s table to tell him that his full war council had convened, there were nearly a hundred people crammed in, filling every chair, every stool, every corner, and all the bits in between. It wasn’t just those who had signed on to help; even Elaina Black’s recruits had turned up to hear the news, and Drake realised now was the time to convince them to fight for him whatever their orders.

Tanner Black was a dark presence in the room. He’d taken a corner for his own and had a number of folk surrounding him, including the worthless shit of a fool he called a son. Tanner brought eight ships to the table, and that was no small number. Only Drake and Elaina could claim more.

T’ruck Khan had claimed the middle table, and that, and his size, made him the centre of attention. The giant was now known as the Hero of the Isles, a title Drake had helped to secure for him, and his influence was greater than he was aware. No one but his most loyal of crew knew how they’d taken the behemoth that floated in their waters, and those crew members were saying nothing. In truth it didn’t matter how the captain had accomplished the miracle, only that he had and that everyone knew it. T’ruck’s voice would carry as much weight as he did in the coming storm of words.

There were plenty of others too. Deun Burn had rallied some of his Riverlanders, and had three ships following his command. It was far from a lot, but even one combat-ready boat could make all the difference. Sienen Zhou had captured a slaver with his own ship, Freedom, and now both crews sailed under his flag.

Never before in any sort of history, recorded or otherwise, had there been a gathering of captains quite like this. Even in the days of the old Captain Black, the tyrant had never known these sorts of numbers. Drake had accomplished so much already; he’d brought all the captains together and united them under his command, his rule. Now he needed to convince them to fight for their kingdom, because until they crushed the fleets of their enemies their waters would never be free of those who wished to oppress them.

It had taken a fair portion of the day to get word to all the captains, and some of them had been in the tavern for a lot of it. One or two were already a little pickled, and the beer was flowing freely now they were all gathered and the doors were shut.

Drake stepped up onto his chair, put two fingers in his mouth, and whistled so loudly even the rats paid him due attention. The noise died down – at least, as far as it could when there were a hundred pirates in a single room.

“Reckon you’ve probably all figured why I called ya here,” Drake started. “There’s…”

A loud banging on the door interrupted him, and a few moments later that same door opened. Keelin Stillwater stood on the other side with his first mate Morley beside him. Drake felt a grin spread across his face as Stillwater stepped into the tavern to a cheer from many of those inside. The grin dropped away a moment later, when Elaina Black came in after him.

“It’s about damned time ya…” Drake started, but was interrupted by two captains who rushed to Elaina, jostling each other for the chance to speak first.

“Captain Black,” said one, a tall man with dark hair braided into rows on top of his head. “The Lord and Lady of Chade send their regards.” He finished with a respectful bow of his head.

“Hmph,” grunted the other captain, who had been just a step behind. “As do the Council of Thirteen.”

“How many?” Elaina said, sending a smug glance towards Drake before turning that same look on her father.

“Ten,” said the captain from Chade.

“Fourteen,” said the captain from Larkos, in a voice that dripped with victory.

“All at my command?”

“Yours and no one else’s,” said the captain from Larkos.

“Good,” Elaina said.

“Where have you been, Stillwater?” Drake called, in an attempt to reclaim authority over the room.

“Following a lead,” Keelin said, moving to Drake’s table. “It didn’t work out.”

“I wouldn’t say that, Stillwater,” Elaina crowed, reclaiming the crowd’s attention. The woman pulled a ragged scroll from her jacket and walked to the centre of the room. She slapped the scroll down on T’ruck’s table. “Anyone here know any alchemy?”

A murmur ran through the crowd. It was Beck who spoke up. “I do.”

“Good to see you again, Arbiter,” Elaina said with a nod. “Fancy having a look?”

Beck stood and crossed to Elaina’s table. Drake hopped down from his chair and followed quickly. He was more than a little curious as to how the two women knew each other, but questioning either of them about it right now would only make him seem weak. Besides, he was also fairly curious as to what Elaina had found.

T’ruck glanced at the scroll and then turned his full attention to Elaina, a silly grin on his face. Drake opted for quite the opposite, with a curt glare at the woman followed by his full and undivided on the parchment.

“Looks like gibberish,” he said eventually. “And possibly a shopping list.”

“What? You can’t read it, Morrass?” Elaina grinned. “That’s why I scribbled down a translation.”

The woman was already starting to grate on Drake’s very last nerve, and worst of all was that she was doing it in front of all the other captains. “Enlighten me,” he growled.

“It’s the recipe for Everfire.”

There was a lot of noise as chairs were pushed away and pirates surged to their feet. Many tried to back away, as if the mere sight of the formula could set them on fire, while others pushed forwards to catch a glimpse.

Drake let out a sigh of frustration.

“Assuming you’re right – and we ain’t got nothing but your say so right now – where’d you find this?”

“The Forgotten Empire,” Elaina said, a statement that could only add weight to her claim.

“What the fuck were you doing there?” Drake said, with a little more venom than he’d intended.

“Looking after Stillwater.” Elaina narrowed her eyes. “Someone needs to keep him out of trouble.”

Drake turned to Keelin. The man was staring into a mug of beer. He’d appropriated Drake’s vacated chair and was doing a good job of trying to look uninterested in the situation. It seemed a little too much of a coincidence that Drake’s chart of the Forgotten Empire’s waters had been stolen and, just a short spell later, Stillwater had found himself in that area. Drake was starting to wonder if he could trust any of his captains.

“I can make this,” Beck said. “I have no idea if it will work as Captain Black promises though.”

“Get on it,” Elaina said with a grin.

Beck gave the woman a long, hard stare, then turned her gaze on Drake, who made a show of thinking it over before nodding his assent. Beck rolled up the scroll and headed for the door.

“If this is real…” Drake started.

“Then I just brought one hell of a weapon to the table,” Elaina finished for him. “Along with twenty-four ships. Of course, they’re only here to sail for me if I’m queen.” She grinned.

Drake looked at Tanner. The black-hearted bastard was just watching, apparently content to let matters proceed as they would.

“What do you say, Morrass?”

Drake almost laughed. It was obvious now that Elaina had no idea about the deal he’d struck with her father. He was getting both of their support for the same terms, and all he had to do was put up with them both for the rest of his life. It was a hefty price to pay, but one that was definitely worth the prize of a crown. Besides, there was always the chance neither of them would survive the coming battle.