Where Loyalties Lie

Chapter 5 - The Phoenix

Only one ship occupied the berth at south port, a sloop by the name of North Wind. Keelin had never seen the little ship before and, more importantly, had no idea who captained the vessel. What Keelin did know for certain was that it wasn’t The Black Death, and it was therefore not captained by Tanner Black.

No sooner had Keelin set his boots onto the decking of the jetty than the harbour master – a truly superficial title as he was master of nothing, but more accurately a caretaker of the jetties – was beside him, bowing and offering “sincere” opportunities for monetary advancement. The man obviously didn’t remember Keelin, but Keelin remembered him, and not fondly. Even ten years ago the harbour master had seemed ancient, with thin greying hair hanging lank about his face, a mouth dotted with decaying brown teeth, and breath that could kill a shark at fifty paces. Keelin was ashamed to admit he’d been young and naive, and the man had swindled him out of nearly a month’s pay. These days he was neither.

“Good fortunes an’ fair weather, Captain.” The man’s voice had an annoying habit of whistling through his teeth when he spoke certain sounds – it did very little to endear him to Keelin. “S’nice ship ya got there. Very nice. Plenty o’ ruffians round these parts though, real bad eggs, some would say. Might be they see ya nice ship there as a bit o’ fun. Of course, I could look out fer it for ya, make sure those ruffians don’t touch it, nor none o’ yer men either. Keep it safe. Fer a small fee…” The man’s voice rose annoyingly high at the end of the offer, and a greedy glint lit his eyes.

In a fit of what could only be described as compassion, Keelin didn’t run the man through, but instead gave him a shove that sent the old fool careening off the jetty into the murky waters of south port. He spent a moment flailing about before paddling to shore, all the while attempting to both keep his head above water and shout insults Keelin’s way – all of which seemed to revolve around his mother’s profession and how she most certainly went about it on her back.

Keelin stopped, turned back to his ship, and shouted up to one of his crew. “Anyone ain’t one of our boys comes anywhere near the The Phoenix, Olly, and you show them a real warm greeting.”

Olly laughed and gave a mock salute from his perch on the railing. He was a small lad, ever jovial and never without a quip or a story, but never had Keelin met someone so eager to get to the stabbing when there was stabbing to be done.

South port barely deserved the name, Keelin decided, and not for the first time, as he set foot on dry land. It was little more than a collection of rotting wooden huts held together by rusting nails and the tenacity of their inhabitants. North port was big, loud, heavily populated, and bordered on being considered a town in its own right. South port was small, run down, populated only by the dregs of humanity, and left discarded and forgotten by all those with better sense. Or, Keelin decided, all those who weren’t trying to hide from their past.

An old dirt road led out of south port into the looming forest, which Keelin knew from past experience was hot, close, and insect ridden, filled with dangers both mundane and beyond explanation. He also knew that the old dirt road led to Fango.

Yanic coughed, and Keelin noticed his first mate was standing beside him with a knowing smile on his face. “Boys are unloading the loot. All is left is ta haggle with Quartermain, Cap’n.”

“Suppose we best go see the old bastard then,” Keelin said. “Watch my back, Yan. Hostile waters and all that.”

With a last glance back towards his ship and one last glare at the harbour master, who was still preoccupied with insulting, threatening, and cursing Keelin all at once, they walked into the jungle.

Fango was by no means a normal town even by a pirate’s definition, and Keelin well knew piratical definitions were broad, meandering, and colourful at the best of times. The jungle on the Isle of Goats seemed to resist almost all efforts at deforestation with something approaching intelligent aggression. The more trees the residents cut down, the more sprang up from seemingly nowhere. An old sailor might fell a tree and build a house in its spot, and within a few months hundreds of new saplings would tear through the building, slowly turning it into an uninhabitable wreckage. The inhabitants of the town had, therefore, after many years of war with the jungle, learned to live with their giant wooden neighbours. Buildings were constructed around trees, some of which were the only reason said buildings were still standing. Keelin knew all too well that the town’s brothel had a giant of a redwood standing tall and straight in the main common area, and the owner had actually built cushioned seats onto the trunk upon which to display his wares.

Many industrious residents of Fango had even taken to building their houses halfway up the trees, so that a ladder was needed to reach their homes. Just how they’d managed to accomplish such a feat was a mystery to Keelin, but he suspected it took time, effort, and a lack of acrophobia. The result was clear though; the inhabitants had not only compensated for a lack of space by building upwards as well as outwards, but had learned to live with and even take advantage of an aggressive forest that resisted most normal attempts at habitation. Unfortunately, the entire town was under the sway of Tanner Black, and that cast a dirty shadow on what should have been world-renowned innovation.

“Place has grown some since we were here last, Cap’n,” said Yanic, staring in wonder at a building that was constructed around five separate tree trunks. It was at least three storeys high, and judging by the sign hanging outside it was a new tavern that had sprung up in their years of absence. “Prospered, ya might say.”

Keelin caught himself nodding along absently. “Let’s just go see Quartermain and get this over with.”

Their arrival went anything but unnoticed, and more than a few sets of eyes followed Keelin and his first mate as they entered Fango. One child, wearing dirty rags for clothing and no shoes, spotted them and ran off, scaling a tree without the use of the ladder set into its trunk and disappearing into a building at least thirty feet from the ground. A moment later an older face, female and wizened, leaned out of a window and watched them pass.

One giant of a man – Keelin guessed he stood at over seven feet – made no attempt to hide his interest in the newcomers. He watched them with a smile and pointed them out to his companions. Keelin noticed all three were armed, and all three looked as though they knew how to use those arms. He found himself thankful for the comforting presence of his twin cutlasses hanging from his belt, but wished he’d possessed the sense to instruct Yanic to come similarly prepared.

“Do folk seem a little… hostile ta you, Cap’n?” Yanic said as they approached the area of Fango that Quartermain called his own.

“Wary, I think is more appropriate, Yanic.” Keelin felt a distinct lack of confidence in his own words. “You would be too if you lived under Tanner’s rule.”

Yanic cleared his throat. “I did live under Tanner’s rule, and I was not wary – I was hostile.”

Keelin stopped outside a door he remembered well, a door with a sign nailed to it that read “Quartermain’s”. He looked at his first mate. “You were very hostile.” With that he pounded on the door three times and waited for a reply.

It wasn’t long before a muffled “Come in” drifted back, and Keelin pushed open the door to find the place much as he remembered. A burly oaf of a man, shorter than Keelin but with arms as thick as the trees that sprouted through the building, stood to the side to allow the pirates to pass. He nodded his thanks to Quartermain Junior and stepped through the doorway.

Quartermain Senior was standing behind a wooden counter, frowning down at one of numerous scrolls haphazardly sprawling its surface. “Sorry about the mess. Busy time and all that.” he said, indicating the immaculately kept front of his business. He looked up, squinting. “That you, Stillwater?”

Keelin grinned at the reaction; it had been many years since he’d last been back to Fango, and it was good to know those in charge still remembered his face. “Aye, ’tis me, Quartermain. How is…”

“Very sorry about this,” Quartermain interrupted just as the door slammed shut behind Keelin.

Keelin spun around, both hands going to the hilts of his cutlasses and both cutlasses unhooking smoothly from his belt. The first thing he noticed was Yanic looking anything but comfortable with a knife to his throat and a Quartermain attached to its hilt. The second thing he noticed was the person rated second highest on his “never wanting to see again” list.

“Stillwater,” Elaina Black said in a voice that fair dripped with smug satisfaction.

“Elaina,” Keelin replied in a voice that left no one in the room under any illusion that he didn’t regret making the decision to come to Fango.

Yanic cleared his throat. He looked panicked.

“Yanic,” Elaina said by way of greeting.

“Long time no see, Elaina. Ya mind telling this fool to drop his knife?” Yanic said, his voice rising with every word.

“Of course, Yanic, just as soon as your captain drops his, eh. So how about it, Stillwater?”

Keelin considered his options and decided they were camping on the bleak side of hope. He had no doubt that in a fair fight he could take both Elaina and Quartermain Junior, but he also had no doubt that Elaina never fought fair – and the first proof of that was the knife currently pressed to his first mate’s throat. With a heavy sigh he dropped both cutlasses to the floor and took a step backwards.

“Excellent,” Elaina said with a smile that made her plain features seem both vicious and beautiful at the same time. “Now, I had to run all the way here to beat you after seeing ya ship sail right on past north port, an’ I’m feeling a little bit sticky, so what say me an’ you continue this after a bath, eh?”

Keelin made a show of considering the offer.

“Don’t keep me waiting, Stillwater.”

“Fine,” he said. “But you’re undressing first this time. I want to make sure you ain’t hiding any weapons – anywhere.”

“Ya really think I’d use that trick twice?” Elaina grinned, already opening the door.

More water sloshed over the side of the brass bath as Elaina rhythmically moved her hips back and forth and Keelin struggled against the rising tide of pleasure. He gripped hard at her buttocks, hard enough to bruise, but Elaina didn’t cry out and she didn’t stop, just stared down into his face as she ground her groin against his. Unable to hold back any longer, Keelin grunted, gasped, and released with a contented moan, all to the braying laughter of Elaina Black from atop him. More water sloshed over the side of the bath.

“Looks like I win again,” Elaina said with a wiggle and a devilish grin.

Keelin nodded his assent. “You always win the first round, bitch.”

“Rematch already?”

Keelin laughed. “I might need a quick rest first. Besides, we should talk business.”

Elaina cocked an eyebrow at him. “We have business?”

“Aye, of a sort. First things first. Where’s your father?”

Elaina grinned and squeezed Keelin with her thighs; it wasn’t comfortable, and she was easily strong enough to hurt him. Elaina was tall and plain-faced, toned from years of hard life and hard toil aboard ships. She had more experience on board pirate ships than any sailor Keelin could name, despite her youth, and could be as cruel as her father or as kind as her mother in equal measure.

“Are you really asking where Tanner is while you’re still inside his daughter?” Elaina said. “What happens if he’s here? What happens if he walks through that door right now?” She pointed at the door just to make her point.

“I reckon he’d slit my throat on principal and beat you half to death for not doing it first.”

Elaina grinned and opened her mouth to reply just as a hurried banging on the door startled them both into rigid inaction.

“Is he here?” Keelin whispered. He could feel his heart racing.

“I fuckin’ hope not,” Elaina whispered back. He could feel her heart racing.

“Cap’n,” Yanic’s shout came through the door. “Got news, seems urgent.”

Elaina relaxed a little atop Keelin; he couldn’t help but notice she had yet to dismount. “Come in, Yanic,” she shouted back.

The door opened. Yanic froze mid-step, his mouth hanging open. Elaina took the cue to arch her back and stretch her arms, giving Yanic full view of her breasts. The poor man seemed lost and unable to look away. Keelin couldn’t exactly blame his first mate; it was taking all of his own willpower not to follow the man’s lead, and he could feel that willpower slipping away even now.

Keelin attempted to move Elaina, but she only tightened her grip with her thighs. “You ain’t going nowhere, Stillwater. I’m not done with you yet.”

“What is it, Yanic?” Keelin said.

“I, uh, there’s… um… damnit! Elaina, could ya put some clothes on or something?” Yanic still seemed unable to tear his eyes away from the naked pirate.

“Why? Am I distracting you?” Elaina said, and her own eyes flicked down for a moment. “Ya definitely look distracted.”

Keelin attempted to move again, but Elaina’s thighs squeezed him tighter still and she shot him a dangerous look that threatened real physical harm should he attempt to force the issue. Content that he was much safer off in the woman’s good books, Keelin relaxed back with a sigh. “Just… What is it, Yanic?”

“Aye. Um… news, Cap’n.” Yanic's eyes seemed locked on Elaina's chest.“Boat in from Black Sands. Town’s gone.”

“Gone?” Keelin and Elaina said in unison.

“Burned,” Yanic clarified. “Couple of lads… um… from the Nipples… um… no, not that.”

Elaina laughed. “I think ya need to order ya first mate to the brothel, Stillwater. I’m starting to think he’s never seen a pair before.”

“The Narrow Escape,” Yanic continued quickly. “A, uh, couple of lads went ashore. Said the place was burned to the ground and… um… folk had wounds and such from swords, I guess.”

“And this couldn’t have waited?” Keelin said. “We’re busy, Yanic.”

Yanic’s face somehow managed to find an even brighter shade of red. “Seemed… um… important, I think. Oh – Drake!”

Keelin frowned. “Morrass?”

Elaina let out a noise worryingly close to a growl, and her grip on Keelin’s midsection tightened even more. He was beginning to find it hard to breathe. “Elaina,” he wheezed, “this hurts.”

The woman sneered at him but released some of the pressure. “Don’t go soft on me, Stillwater. What about Morrass?”

Yanic startled back into life. “They said… um… that is, the boys from the Narrow Escape said they saw the Fortune sailing away – from Black Sands.”

“He did it?” Keelin shifted his weight slightly in the cooling tub of water, and quickly held up placating hands to Elaina as she sent a glare his way.

“They reckon so.”

“That it, Yanic?” Elaina asked coldly.

“Aye.”

“Good. Fuck off.”

“Aye,” Yanic said, backing towards the door, bumping into the door frame, and then backing out into the waiting hallway. His eyes never left Elaina’s body even as he was shutting the door.

Keelin decided it was his turn to stare at the naked pirate. He found Elaina watching him curiously. She leaned in towards him, far enough down that her breasts dipped into the tepid water and her face was just inches from his own.

“Do you know him?” she whispered.

“Drake?”

“Aye.”

Keelin stared into Elaina’s bright blue eyes. “I’ve met him once or twice. Why? Do you know him?”

She smiled then, and it made her pretty, if not beautiful. Keelin felt the urge to kiss her, but he resisted; Elaina wasn’t the type for such affection. “Everybody knows Drake.”

Keelin felt blood rush to his face. There was something in the way Elaina said it that made him unreasonably jealous, and he didn’t like it. “What’s that mean?”

Elaina leaned backwards until she was upright and shrugged. Keelin felt the urge to grab hold of her, and this time it wouldn’t be gentle. He surged out of the water, picking Elaina up and turning her around before bending her over the side of the tub.

Elaina laughed as Keelin manhandled her, but she spread her legs and braced against the tub. “It’s about fucking time, Stillwater. You promised me round two.”