Maeve pushed the dead man off the floating walkway with the heel of her boot. He slid from her rapier and splashed into fish-gut-smelling water where a swarm of hungry offal sharks tore into his flesh. Locking her eyes onto the next pirate in line, Maeve pointed her bloodied sword at his tattooed chest.
The pirate held up his notched cutlass as the eight hard-looking men behind him tensed for a fight. “Cap’n Coyle warned us that you were prickly.”
“Coyle?” Maeve’s angry visage faded. She flashed a questioning glance over her shoulder at Baxter. The tall man’s pockmarked and sword-scarred face scrunched up in confusion. She turned back to the pirates blocking their way, knowing firsthand about Coyle’s cruel tactics and the black-hearted men who followed him. “Never heard of him.” Maeve stepped toward the tattooed man, who bumped into one of his mates.
“You’re just as Cap’n Coyle said,” the pirate challenged, “curly black hair down to your arse, hazel eyes and a fiery temper. You’re Maeve Tierney, wife of the dead Cap’n Bull Tierney, and you’re coming with us.”
“Got the wrong woman, you do.” Maeve wiped the blood off her sword with a frilly white handkerchief. She shook her head at the stain then pretended to curse under her breath—instead speaking the secret words of power her mother had taught her. Maeve used the raw power in the fresh blood to cast her spell and felt the magic rising in her throat. “I’m Lace Connelly and my business is running punch houses for freebooters like you lot.”
The pirates blinked with surprise as Maeve’s words hung in the air, blocking out the splashing of the sharks feeding in the water. The blood on the handkerchief disappeared, utterly consumed by the mind-controlling spell that had been powered by the dead man’s blood. Maeve held her breath, knowing that if her magic failed, Bax would die protecting her and she would end up a prisoner on Coyle’s ship.
“There’s a punch house in Bilgewater?” Several of the pirates asked, their surprise turning to excited grins.
“Two wrecks that way with the red flag by the gangplank.” Maeve gestured over her shoulder, hoping all of them had been fooled. Just to be sure, she stuck out one of her curvaceous hips, outlined perfectly by her tight black trousers, and suggestively sheathed her sword—twice. “Tell my man that Lace sent you. But you better get going, ’cause the crew from Crosswind are coming this morning and there ain’t enough girls to go ’round.”
Baxter and Maeve graciously stepped aside as the excited men hurried past. Only a few of them gawked at the low-cut of her white blouse. One man looked at her as if he had forgotten what he was going to say, then shook his head and followed his mates. After they’d gone, Maeve let out a sigh of relief and Bax grinned, showing all three of his front teeth. “You’re such a witch.”
Maeve slapped the ugly sailor across his stubbly cheek. “Pirate witch. Now come on before the spell wears off, or more of them buccaneers will come looking for us.”
“Lead on. I’ll watch your back.”
“More likely my backside.” Maeve winked at her most loyal and best friend, wondering if Bax knew how much she cared for him. It was no secret that he loved her. Still, Maeve wasn’t ready to share herself like she had with Bull. It had nothing to do with Bax being so ugly. She liked the scars on his face and that one of his eyes was blue and one brown. He always treated her with respect and made her laugh when it seemed she’d never be happy again.
Someday, if they could find an island where no one knew who they were, maybe she and Bax could become more than friends. For now, they had to escape from the second pirate captain who had come after her since her husband’s death. Then they could think about digging up Bull’s treasure, which would buy them a new life together, one that didn’t involve piracy.
Maeve stayed alert as they hustled along the maze of floating plankways toward the outer edges of Bilgewater. As they headed toward the quays where the ships were docked, the early morning heat and humidity took its toll. She wiped sweat from her brow and shifted her heavy cloth bag from shoulder to shoulder. Maeve almost wished she’d packed more than just gold; but wherever they landed next, she could buy whatever they needed.
“I’ll carry it,” Bax offered, adjusting his two heavy bags of coin.
“No, Bax, you’re too heavy already.”
“I’m skin and bones!” He patted his flat stomach. “All I’ve had to eat for a week is rats and boiled seaweed.”
“Keep your voice down.” Maeve rolled her eyes and noticed the dozens of holes that rats had gnawed in the hull of a Sernish merchant cog. All around them tightly packed ships from every kingdom and several primitive barges covered with sailcloth tents threatened to sink to the bottom of the deep lagoon. Scores of captured vessels had been floated into the reef-protected waters inside the tiny atoll in the Northern Brink. The ships had been lashed together to form a floating island where rats now outnumbered the starving pirates of Bilgewater.
Maeve and Bax trundled along the rotten and ill-traveled plankways, trying to avoid being seen. Baxter’s big feet cracked several timbers, though he always caught himself before falling into the polluted water. The quiet was a blessing, but Maeve wondered why there were so few sailors about. There hadn’t been any barrels of rum brought in for weeks, and fever couldn’t have killed all of the old sea dogs in one night. Could it? Not even one toothless freebooter had begged them for food or grog since they’d left their hideout after receiving the warning that Captain Coyle had arrived and was looking for her.
Maeve almost smiled when she saw the first collapsed sailor of the morning. Then she blanched at the purple lesions on his face that leaked a purulent liquid. She stepped carefully over him, trying to ignore the cloud of swarming flies.
Baxter furrowed his weathered brow, the expression making him look much older than his one score and seventeen years. He wrinkled his nose.
“We should have gone long before now.”
“I know, Bax, I know.” Maeve wondered if she’d live much beyond her one score and nine summers, considering they’d been found after only a month in hiding. At least they’d gotten word before Coyle’s crew arrived at their bunks. It would be a stiff wind in their face as they tried to get free of the accursed dung heap now.
Maeve led Bax around a half-burned elvish cog. She didn’t remember it from the week before. Another prize. Another wart against the sagging jowls of Bilgewater. A gang of men appeared on the forecastle of the elvish ship. Maeve squinted into the sun as a man with a crimson tricorn hat stared down at them.
“Maeve Tierney, what an unexpected pleasure.” Captain Coyle tipped his hat and smiled. “Climb up here and I be pouring you some rum.” A rope ladder dropped beside her.
Maeve smiled back, hiding her fear at being caught unaware. “Not just now, Cap’n, there’s a good wind for hoisting a sail.”
Coyle nodded. “That there is, Maeve. And once you join my crew, Vulture will fly even faster. No prize from the Cerulean Sea to the Northern Floes will be too swift for us.”
Maeve stepped sideways. “I’m finished with that kind of sailing, Cap’n.”
“You can’t ever leave the sweet trade,” Coyle grinned, “‘specially after you went and married yourself to a great Cap’n like Bull Tierney.”
Maeve scowled, squeezing her sword hilt. “Since you think so highly of him, Cap’n Coyle, maybe you should have married that dim-witted lout with ballast in his head. I’ve had enough of Cap’ns like you and Bull-damned-Tierney.”
Coyle shrugged his shoulders. “You be having yer own cabin and a full share of the loot after you sign articles with me, Maeve. I’ll keep you safe from the Angallians who want your pretty little head on a spike next to Bull’s back in Port Angal. Shame how he was killed—betrayed by one of his own crew.”
Maeve raised a dark eyebrow, wondering if he knew her part in Bull’s death. She guessed he did and went on the attack. “Rum-addled cabin boys lie better than you, Coyle. I know what you want, and unlike you, I ain’t afraid of the Angallians.”
Captain Coyle took off his hat. “Bereaved as you are with the loss of your fine husband, I be willing to overlook your womanish ways. Now come up here and have a drink with a thirsty old sailor.”
Maeve looked at Baxter, hoping he wouldn’t be too angry with what she was about to say next. Bax let out a big sigh when he saw her determined expression. Maeve took another step sideways. “Next time I’m in port, we might have that drink, Cap’n.”
“You’ll be reconsidering before too long.” Coyle turned to his men.
“Take her alive, you filthy dogs!”
Ropes dropped over the side and sailors began clambering down. Bax and Maeve took off running as men landed hard on the plankway behind them, causing it to shudder and list to port. Maeve’s sea legs kept her steady, but Bax stumbled, his burden of gold unbalancing him. Bax’s foot found a rotten timber and he crashed through two boards in the middle of the plankway. Both his legs splashed into the water.
“Bax!” Maeve shouted as Bax tried to drag himself out. Her heart jumped into her throat as she lunged toward her friend. Maeve leaped over the broken plankway with a drawn sword and desperately parried a cutlass that would have opened Baxter’s skull. She cut some space between herself and the crew of Vulture with her flashing steel.
Out of the corner of her eye, Maeve saw the dorsal fin of an offal shark speeding toward Bax. He lifted one knee onto the plankway trying to drag himself out of the water without dropping the gold.
Maeve stabbed a pirate in the leg with her rapier and punctured another man in the groin. Drops of blood dripped into the inky water. A shark swam under the walkway and Bax screamed as he struggled to pull out his other leg.
“Choke on it!” Bax yelled as he yanked out his now-bootless extremity. Maeve used the basket-hilt of her rapier to turn aside a determined attack from a tall, freckle-faced Yorskan man with red hair. The force of his blow left her teetering on the edge of the hole Bax had made. She nearly fell into the water where offal sharks circled. The Yorskan raised his thick cutlass over his head for a two-handed blow.
Bax threw a silver-handled dagger, hitting the Yorskan in the chest—handle first. The weapon bounced harmlessly onto the walkway. The pirate touched his chest, found nothing protruding from his ribs, and, with a harsh laugh, raised his sword again. Taking advantage of the distraction, Maeve steadied herself and hopped across the gap before the blow fell. Bax slashed the air over the breach in the plankway, keeping the big red-haired pirate at bay. The Yorskan sneered at Bax and picked up the expensive dagger and slid it into his belt.
Bax nudged Maeve to get going as he kept his eyes on the pirate’s cold blue stare. Maeve knew they couldn’t get away from the unburdened pirates. Holding her panic at bay, she spoke the words of power. Maeve backed up while dragging the tip of her bloody sword in an arcane pattern along the wooden planks for three long strides.
“Bax, run!” Maeve yelled as she imagined the boards rotting and breaking. Bax shuffled away, and the red-haired man leaped over the hole with three others right behind. The planking shattered and the pirates crashed through the magically weakened walkway. The water frothed white, then red as the sharks tore into their screaming breakfast. Maeve and Bax sprinted toward the quays as the Vulture’s crew shouted to each other about finding another way to give chase.
“Handle first?” Maeve laughed as she wiped the few remaining drops of blood from her sword. “Why did you throw that one?”
“You know my best throwing blade was in my damn boot!” Bax pulled off his other boot and threw it at the pirates.
Maeve cut her laugh short as they ran onto the solid wooden quay. Crosswind’s birth lay empty. She scanned the entire length of the dock. A handful of dejected looking sailors milled around, but all the ships were gone. Save one, Vulture, with the carving of a massive scavenger bird perched on its prow.
“Where is everyone?” Maeve asked a one-armed and sun-shriveled sailor.
“Word came with Vulture last night. A fleet of Angallian frigates is coming this way. They’re going to kill every buccaneer in the Dagger Islands. All the able-bodied seamen escaped this morning.”
“Sea-dragon’s balls!” Baxter spat. “They believed Cap’n Coyle?!”
Maeve’s heart sunk as she realized Vulture’s Captain was a better liar than she thought. Now there was no way to get away from Bilgewater.
“Vulture will take you on,” the sailor told Bax. “But I don’t be knowing ‘bout a lady friend. There’s the question of sailor’s luck after all.”
Maeve scowled. “Sailor’s luck be damned. Cap’n Budge and Crosswind will pay for leaving us here. We had an agreement.”
Baxter started to say something, but Maeve cut him off. “Stowe it, Bax. I thought we could trust him.”
“But he’s a pirate!” Baxter rolled his eyes and Maeve realized how stupid she had been.
“Old Chippy said a sloop came in yesterday for repairs,” the one-armed sailor offered.
Maeve scanned the quay. Aside from a few dinghies, there was nothing to steal. They headed for Old Chippy’s shack on a shadowy plankway that paralleled the docks. The shouting of an angry crowd in front of the berth near Old Chippy’s shop drew Maeve’s attention. The combined smell of more than two dozen sailors who hadn’t bathed or washed their clothes in years mingled with the scent of burning tar. Maeve tried not to breathe through her nose as she noticed the top of a mast bobbing up and down. She couldn’t see much of the sloop through the furious crowd. Bax asked a scrawny sailor, “What’s happening here?”
“The Cap’n of yonder sloop won’t take us old sea dogs, and we ain’t even asking for pay. Off this wreck is all we want.”
Maeve noticed very few in the crowd who were fit to sail, all being too old, too weak, or missing too many limbs. If she couldn’t out sail and out fight these worn-out mongrels, she wasn’t fit to hold a blade and taste the salt on the wind.
Booted feet thundered on the plankway behind them. Maeve and Bax pushed into the crowd as a gang of men closed in. Another party marched toward them from the quay near Vulture’s birth. Bax and Maeve suffered through the stench, with Bax leading until they arrived at the front. Maeve’s jaw dropped when she saw the condition of the small forty-foot sloop. Wet tar leaked through holes on the starboard side and scores of barnacles clung to the hull. The gunwales were broken in several places as if grapnel hooks had torn them away.
Blotches that could only be from blood stained the entire deck and marred the once-white roof of the crew cabin at the aft of the ship.
Arrowheads lodged in the wood poked out of the vessel as if it had been attacked by a regiment of archers.
Two gray-haired sailors manned the pumps on the deck, working them hard. “She’s sucking water in port.” Baxter shook his head in disbelief. “I seen baskets more seaworthy than that.”
Maeve read the ship’s name painted on the side: Lady Gail. “Not much of a lady,” she spat. The ship’s mad captain was trying to get underway, but Lady Gail would be a hundred fathoms down before sunset without a shipwright and a miracle. Besides the two old sailors manning the pumps, the only other crewman was a long-limbed hooded man nearly mummified in dirty bandages. He stood near the helm aiming a ballista on a swivel at the agitated sailors on the quay. A crossbow rested at his feet and a cutlass complimented the daggers hanging on his belt. Soiled linen bandages partially covered the oozing sores on his arms. The man’s cheeks and nose were black and deformed, as if his face had become the root of a gnarled and charred tree.
“Dark leprosy.” Baxter shuddered as he stared at the diseased man. “Maeve, if we get on that ship we’ll catch it for sure. Little pieces of us will turn black and fall off.”
“Iron poisoning or dark leprosy,” Maeve said, “one kills slower than the other.”
Bax groaned. “Let me do the talking then.” He stepped forward and shouted above the others unhappy about being refused work. “Cap’n! Ablebodied seaman Baxter asking to join the crew.”
The man’s harsh gaze fell upon Bax. “I ain’t offering pay, only passage south to the Core.”
“I be paying my way with work and gold, Cap’n.” Bax tossed him a small pouch of coins and Maeve instantly hated the idea of going south. If they were ever going to find peace it would be away from the Central Islands.
“I’ll have some answers before I let you aboard.”
“Yes, Cap’n.” Bax nodded.
“Will you follow my orders?”
“Yes, Cap’n. I will.” Bax’s tone even convinced Maeve, though he did tend to follow orders when on ships.
“Have you killed a lot of men?”
“Yes, Cap’n. I have. Though some of them tried to kill me first.” The black-faced man studied Bax for a moment longer, then yelled, “Come aboard!”
Harsh shouts and curses erupted from the crowd. A sea dog past his prime leaped toward the boat, intent on either proving his skill as a sailor or his talent as a pirate. The captain shot him through the chest in mid-jump.
The skewered man crashed into the gunwale and plunged into the sea. The sharks appeared, and some of the crowd backed away from the edge once the feeding frenzy began.
The captain picked up a crossbow and ordered one of the sailors onboard to reload the ballista. Baxter tossed his bags aboard and leaped onto the Lady Gail’s bloodstained deck. “Cap’n, sir. I hate to cause trouble, but I can’t leave behind my mate.” He pointed at Maeve.
“Baxter, you be the last sailor I need for this boat.”
“I know she’s a woman sir, but a fine sailor she is. Her eyes see farther than most, and she’s a good cook besides.” Bax offered another bag of coins.
The crowd surged to life, hollering and screaming that any of them were ten times as good at sailing as any woman. The sailors jostled and pushed Maeve. She teetered on the edge of the dock, glancing at the sharks in the water and trying not to fall.
“Cap’n,” Bax shouted, “ain’t none of them got the talent she has. And she won’t cause no trouble neither.”
“Hoist the mainsail, we’re shoving off,” the captain ordered as he stood by the wheel. “Baxter, cut the mooring rope. We ain’t waiting for those Bilgewater rats to untie us. Now follow my orders! No one disobeys Cap’n Finneous Crab while they’re on my ship.”
“Aye, sir!” The two old sailors began hoisting the sail into the rigging as Baxter stood by the mooring rope staring at Maeve on the dock.
“Cap’n, sir!” Baxter shouted, holding a third bag of coins. “I can’t leave without her. Shall I be getting off the ship, sir?”
“Belay that! Help raise the sail or I’ll put a bolt up your arse!” Captain Crab aimed the ballista at Baxter.
Maeve considered jumping aboard and putting her sword through the leper’s neck. She hesitated since the chance of the captain shooting her or Bax before she killed him was pretty good.
One strong arm covered in coarse red hair wrapped around Maeve’s neck while the other groped at her breasts. Fear turned to rage. Maeve bit the man’s wrist and tasted dirty seawater. She gouged at his eyes, then slammed the sharp heel of her boot against his shinbone. The pirate stumbled back in pain. Maeve spun around to face the red-haired Yorskan man. Three others pushed their way forward, trying to corner her at the edge of the dock. She crouched beside Lady Gail’s mooring rope as the water below the dock roiled as offal sharks consumed every scrap of flesh from the dead sailor.
Maeve unwound the line from the mooring cleat. As they reached for her, Maeve closed her other hand around her handkerchief still spotted in pirate’s blood. Hoping there was enough blood to cast the spell, Maeve sprang backwards off the quay. She flipped in the air, floating like a leaf on the wind. Maeve landed softly on the deck of Lady Gail with perfect balance. The crowd gasped in shock as she slipped the now spotless handkerchief in her pocket and faced the captain. “Permission to join the crew, Cap’n Crab, sir?”
The dark-faced leper aimed the ballista at Maeve. His knuckles turned white as he squeezed the weapon’s stock. His voice exploded with fury, “Tie off that line, woman!”
Pirates from Vulture stood on the edge of the dock preparing to board, but captain Crab turned the ballista at them. Bax snatched up a loaded crossbow hidden by the port gunwale, and the red-haired pirate gritted his teeth in frustration. The mainsail caught wind and Lady Gail pulled away from the dock.
Captain Crab stepped to the wheel and turned the ship into the breeze. The stink of Bilgewater faded and fresh sea air filled Maeve’s nostrils as the sloop cut through the waves. She looked back and wondered how long it would take Coyle to get Vulture underway. Maeve coughed as the odor of rotting flesh hit her like a cat-o-nine-tails. Captain Crab towered over her as she choked on the smell. His already twisted face snarled into a knot of rage. “Don’t be expecting any special treatment aboard my ship, woman. You be working the pumps just as often as them others.”
“Aye, Cap’n.” Maeve nodded, looking away from his grotesque face.
“Now, get on those halyards and raise the jib.” Crab put his hands on his hips as the wind blew harder and a bank of gray clouds appeared in the distance. Maeve helped the two old sailors with the lines. Both of them had weathered skin from a lifetime at sea. Their calloused hands tugged on the lines as if they wore leather gloves, while Maeve felt the ropes’ bite. The sailor beside her reeked of sour sweat and rotten fish. She suspected he might have fleas, though she wondered how the bugs could stand the potent aroma. He turned to her. “Name’s Lemmy Fowler,” he said loudly, offering a toothless smile, “but call me Lem.”
The other sailor finished with the jib. Lem motioned to him, “That salty sea dog is Codfrey Saltpans. We both just came aboard in Bilgewater, though me and Cod been on ships together more years than I can count.”
“That means more years than his fingers and toes all summed together,” Cod said, “but we ain’t never been crewmates of a woman the likes of you.”
“What kind of woman is that?” Maeve raised an eyebrow at Cod, who
had to be sixty years old.
“Ain’t never seen no woman do what you did back at the dock,” Cod
said.
“Surprised you saw it at all, you blind fool,” Lem shouted, as he scratched the flogging scars on his back.
“Quit yer bellowing, Lem.” Cod gave the old sailor a dismissive wave and turned back to Maeve with a hard stare. “How’d you fly like that?”
“Right. Fess it up!” Lem’s voice was just as loud as before.
“With witchcraft.” Captain Crab stood with arms crossed and glared at Maeve. “Don’t try denying it, woman.”
“Stop calling me, woman.” She glared back. “My name is Lace Connelly.” Crab shook his head. “Don’t be telling false tales on my ship, or I’ll put you in a sack of sailcloth with a ballast stone and pitch you over the side.”
Maeve reached for her sword, remembering when the priests tied rocks to her mother’s legs and dropped her into the sea as punishment for practicing witchcraft.
“Now, who are you?” Crab’s gaze narrowed.
Maeve wanted to cut off his diseased nose with her rapier. She thought about lying again, but something in the intense way he looked at her made Maeve suspect that Captain Crab had some magical power of his own. “I’m Maeve Tierney, once the wife of Cap’n Bull Tierney.”
“That’s why Cap’n Coyle came to Bilgewater.” Cod’s mouth hung open. “He thinks you know where the queen’s ransom is buried.”
“What he say?” Lem asked, eyes wide. “Loot?”
Maeve pressed her lips together.
Lem slapped his knee. “The king wants his queen and treasure back,
don’t he?”
“He got his queen back, Lemmy.” Cod tried to cuff Lem on the head, but the old man ducked and raised a fist.
“Best keep your tongues still,” Bax advised Lem and Cod.
Cod ignored him. “The king got her back all right, with Bull’s bastard in her belly. The way I heard it, the queen didn’t want to go back to her limp fish of a husband after Bull gave her his—”
Lem stopped laughing when Maeve’s sword touched the skin under Cod’s left eye.
Cod’s hand moved away from his cutlass, then Maeve shoved him back.
Cod spat. “Her damn fool of a husband is the reason the Angallian king’s fleet has been burning pirate hideouts in the Dagger Islands. The king wants his gold back and revenge for what cow-brained Cap’n Tierney did to the queen.”
Maeve’s blood rushed to her head and shame colored her skin. Did every sailor in the Sea Kingdoms know what her husband did with the Angallian queen?
Cod pointed at Maeve. “I heard tell that she be the only one who knows where Cap’n Tierney buried the queen’s ransom.”
“I don’t care one wick about what she knows,” Captain Crab spat. “I don’t like none of it, but crew is crew. Witch or not. Now put them swords away and work those pumps. We best be dry as tinder before it rains.”
Captain Crab was at the wheel when the first drops fell onto the ship. The wind picked up and the sloop bounced across the sea. Maeve wiped the salt from her lips as she worked a pump. Her mood turned as dark as the sky. It seemed like a lot longer than eleven years past when handsome Bull Tierney stormed into White Abbey and “rescued” her. The priests who had murdered her mother had left her to rot with the Merciful Sisters of the Virgin Goddess Evaleen. The Sisters had taken her in and tried to redeem her, but some girls weren’t cut out for a life of prayers, chastity and forgiveness. The memory of Bull “saving” her from her prison and her virginity all in the same night made Maeve wonder what had gone so wrong after they’d been married. Did the love potion she had given him wear off? She vowed silently to never trust a pirate again—except Bax. And if they ever found a place to settle down, she promised herself she wouldn’t use any witchery on him. Especially not love potions.
In the distance behind them she caught a glimpse of a billowing topsail and recognized Vulture. Maeve pointed abaft as she matched Baxter’s pace on the other pump.
“Coyle’s on us already.” Bax grimaced at Maeve. “Should have left you in Bilgewater.”
“Ships off the port bow!” Lem yelled.
Riding the waves on the horizon a fleet of tall clipper ships and frigates flying full sails and golden flags came into view.
“Angallian warships.” Lem frowned and hid behind the gunwale.
“They’re headed right for us!”
Captain Crab turned hard to starboard and barked orders to adjust the sails. Lady Gail lost some of her speed, and the mast creaked in protest of the new direction as Lem and Cod swung the boom. Vulture immediately altered her course to match theirs. The little sloop wallowed in the waves, too beaten to make a good run. On her best days, she could have stormed to the horizon, but not today.
“More ships dead ahead!” Lem screamed.
Rain and clouds obscured the horizon, but Maeve saw a flotilla of war galleys and a smattering of what appeared to be pirate ships. Cod let out a joyful cheer. “The Dagger Islanders have finally decided to stand up to the Angallian king!”
“No, look. Those are goblinrat galleys,” Lem said. “The goblinrats have joined
us.”
“Not bloody likely.” Captain Crab turned away from the collision course with the new ships. “Dagger Islanders don’t never ally with goblinrats.”
“What’ll we do, Cap’n?” Lem frantically glanced from fleet to fleet.
“We’ll run the gauntlet between them,” Crab announced. “If we don’t, we end up like the pirates who used to crew those ships.”
“What do you mean, sir?” Lem asked.
“It was goblinrats who attacked my boat and killed my crew. They were on a schooner called Ghost when they attacked.”
“That’s a buccaneer ship,” Baxter said.
“It’s a goblinrat ship now.” Crab turned the wheel, setting a course that led in between the approaching fleets.
“What happened to Ghost’s crew?” Lem asked.
“Goblinrats took on fresh supplies, most likely,” Crab said. “They don’t care what they eat, as long as its meat—and that it’s still alive when they start biting.”
Maeve wished she would have accepted Captain Coyle’s offer just then as the two armadas of ships squeezed them and Vulture closed in. Rain pelted Lady Gail while the distance between the Angallian and goblinrat fleets narrowed. Vulture gained on them as the rain stopped. The air became even more humid, and the wind eased up. Mist rose from the sea and a bank of fog rolled in.
The Angallian fleet turned to port so the wind was behind them, taking the same course as Lady Gail. The gun-ports of all the warships opened and fireball cannons poked through the gunwales. The goblinrat war galleys rowed forward as drums beat faster, apparently unconcerned that the Angallians had brought their guns to bear first.
Baxter eyed the Angallian guns from the helm. “We’re in the line of fire.”
“So is Vulture.” Maeve said. She glanced aft, then at the galleys rowing toward them. The decks and rigging swarmed with scores of wiry, khaki skinned goblinrats. The prows of the war ships had been painted with fierce black eyes and toothy maws, which gaped above the bronze rams at the waterline.
“We could surrender to the Angallian ships.” Lem glanced fearfully at the goblinrat galleys. “I be too old to row.”
“Keep a steady course for the fog,” Captain Crab said as the first volley of fireballs launched from the Angallian cannon. The burning orbs passed over the aft of Lady Gail and the foredeck of Vulture, leaving a sulfurous odor in the air. The fireballs hissed as some hit the water short of the goblinrat fleet, but a few exploded on the decks. Smoke and fire erupted as the matted hair of the goblinrats caught fire. Volley after volley of fireballs arched toward the goblinrats, but the vicious creatures spawned by goblin sorcerers never wavered or changed course.
They returned fire from their forward guns, and Maeve estimated the Angallians were outnumbered three to one. The first burning goblinrat war galley rammed an Angallian frigate just as Lady Gail entered the fog bank. White mist cloaked the ship, and Maeve lost sight of Vulture and the battle. The sound of rams splintering hulls, men screaming, goblinrats squealing, and fireballs exploding drifted over the sea. War cries and the clash of weapons became ghostly echoes as the fog thickened. The wind ebbed and Lady Gail drifted in the current for some time, sails slack. The raging battle faded in the distance as Maeve worked her pump with an arm turning into lead.
“Cap’n, me and Cod can go below and tar up the hull.” Lem stood by the crew cabin door.
Crab stalked toward him and reached for his shoulder. Lem moved aside, afraid of the captain’s touch. “No one goes below deck, savvy?”
“Yes, C-Cap’n,” Lem stammered.
“Now take another turn on that pump,” Crab ordered, as he wiped a black liquid that dripped from his necrotic nose. He gave the whole crew a warning glare before he disappeared below deck.
Maeve stood by Bax at the helm and whispered, “What’s he hiding down
there?”
“The ship is sucking more water than he wants us to know about,” Bax
said.
Maeve shrugged as the sounds of the battle became even more faint. Captain Crab came on deck with an open cask of biscuits and a pail of water. He dropped them by Baxter and took over the helm. Lem, Cod, Maeve, and Bax took their meal on the foredeck, as far away from Crab as they could. Lem rapped his rock-hard sea biscuit against the gunwale and shook out the weevils before dunking it in the briny water pail. As he tried to gum the biscuit, blood stained his lips. “Not even a taste of grog to wash this down.”
Lem groaned in unison with Cod.
Maeve crunched her moldy biscuit and kept an eye on Captain Crab.
Fog wafted over the ship and she could barely see the aft. Lady Gail drifted on the current, no telling where they were heading. Something banged into the hull, and Maeve sprang to her feet. Another thump and a bang on the prow caused them all to stare over the side. In the water below, floating debris bumped against the ship. Casks, planks, barrels, and other bits from sunken ships bobbed in the sea. Cod used a gaff hook to pull up a barrel marked with the letter A. Lem helped him pull it aboard. They twisted the tap and poured out a drop of clear liquid.
“Angallian rum!” Cod announced as he sampled from the barrel. “Our luck has changed, Lemmy!” They both laughed and clapped each other on the back.
“It ain’t lucky to have drifted back here,” Bax whispered to Maeve as the faint smell of burned sailcloth tainted the air. “Look.” Lem hooked three more barrels of rum and one cask of soggy biscuits.
Cod dumped the water from the pail and started to fill it with rum. Captain Crab kicked over the pail of alcohol. “Get back on the pumps,” he ordered Lem and Cod, and then stood supervising them. “Woman, you and Bax stow those barrels in the hold. No one drinks any rum while on watch, and we’re all on watch until I say we ain’t.”
“Aye, sir.” Lem and Cod sulked back to the pumps licking their fingers.
Bax and Maeve lowered the barrels into the shallow hold. The captain moved away and scanned the fog bank. Maeve seized the chance and inspected a stack of small casks. She found one with a black skull painted on it and pulled out the cork plugging the tap hole. The cork smelled of bitter almonds, and she immediately turned away and took a cleansing breath. Her mother had taught her about poisons, and kyanos was one of the worst.
Maeve wondered if Crab knew that he had kyanos onboard, or if some merchant had paid him to deliver it to a master of assassins in the Core. Poisons were rich cargo, if you could stomach the penalty for getting caught—drinking your own haul and dying with the twitching spasms. Wondering about Crab, Maeve climbed up the ladder and noticed a large patch of fresh tar on the hull. It appeared to have been applied in the past hour. She realized that Crab would not have had time to do it. Maeve heard the sound of a pump being worked in a room beyond the hold. “Bax, someone’s down here.”
Baxter stepped toward the sounds.
“Get back up here,” Captain Crab ordered from the edge of the hatch. Maeve and Bax climbed out. Crab locked the hatch as more debris banged into the hull and scratched along the waterline. Maeve marched toward the prow as a pallid hand with long fingernails came over the side. Yellow eyes with red points of hate in them stared at her as the creature’s head appeared over the gunwale. The goblinrat had a dagger in its pointed teeth, and its wet, black hair splayed over batty ears.
“Repel boarders!” Maeve shouted as three more goblinrats came over the side. They charged forward screaming as Bax drew his cutlass. She stabbed the first one in the eye and Bax cut two down with vicious chops. The fourth one waited on the bowsprit, daring them to come forward. Maeve heard more scratching on the sides of the ship and stumbled backward as at least a dozen five-foot tall goblinrats poked their heads over both gunwales. Bax pulled Maeve aft as the dripping goblinrats crawled onto the ship with wicked smiles on their half-goblin half-human faces. Captain Crab stood with a cutlass at the crew cabin door with Lem and Cod.
“More of the little blighters are ’round the ship,” Cod said as they put their backs to the wall of the crew cabin.
“There’s too many,” Lem said, changing his grip on his dagger.
“We’ll cut them all down, as poorly armed as they are.” Captain Crab pulled a dagger. “No one will ever take my ship. The first wave of goblinrats screamed forward with belaying pins, knives, and makeshift clubs salvaged from the debris in the water. Maeve and Bax dispatched the creatures with practiced blows, while Lem and Cod fought side by side, hacking away at any that got too close. The old men were suddenly panting, their strength fading.
Captain Finneous Crab threw back his hood and glared at the first goblinrat who approached him, startling the creature so much that it froze as he cut it down. The horde of goblinrats swelled in front of them. Maeve heard something scuttling behind her. She turned to see five goblinrats perched on the roof like animated gargoyles.
“Behind us!” Maeve shouted as one landed on Lem’s back. Cod stabbed it as the goblinrat raked its claws on Lem’s shoulders. More appeared on the roof, and others swarmed into the rigging, ready to pounce on them from all sides. The horde swelled, like a tidal wave about to dash them against the rocks.
Bax slashed wildly in front of them to keep the goblinrats at bay, but the creatures pressed forward with sharp claws and hungry mouths.
“Inside!” Captain Crab ordered as he pulled Lem and Cod to him.
Maeve darted toward the door. A goblinrat on the roof grabbed her by the hair as she entered. Maeve yelped, and Baxter cut off the goblinrat’s arm. Dark blood spurted onto Maeve’s hair.
Three goblinrats tackled Bax as he turned to help Maeve. They clawed at his already scarred face, trying to find his throat.
Captain Crab bellowed, “Get off my ship!” He slashed at the beasties piling atop Baxter. The volume of his voice and the steel of his blade made the surviving goblinrats fall back.
Maeve dragged Bax down the stairs. Crab bolted the door as the goblinrats threw themselves against it, pounding and clawing as they howled for blood. They would not give up, and Maeve decided that before she would let the goblinrats skin her alive and eat her flesh, she would fall on her sword.
Crab ushered them down the steps below deck as he guarded the door. Maeve whirled as movement behind a curtain drew her attention. She slashed open the sheet and beheld three teenage girls huddling together. All three wore the white robes of novice Sisters, putting them between sixteen and eighteen years old. Around their necks the tear-shaped symbol of the Merciful Goddess, Evaleen proclaimed their faith.
“Get away from them,” Captain Crab ordered.
Maeve’s eyes met the terrified stares of the young girls. Memories of when Bull and his crew rampaged through White Abbey flooded her mind. She remembered the novices and Sisters huddling together like these three were now. Guilt about what had happened to the kindly women and young girls of White Abbey flared up in Maeve’s chest. She raised her sword at Crab, fury spewing from her mouth. “So this is what you’re hiding, Cap’n. Your own little collection of abducted girls for you to infect with your disease. You’ll pay for this.” Maeve decided to put a hex on Crab that would damn his soul to an eternity of pain.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about, witch,” Crab spat as the goblinrats smashed into the door with something solid. “I’m escorting them north to Seaton Abbey.”
The girls’ fear-filled eyes turned to Crab, silently pleading for protection. Despite all Maeve knew of the heartless ways of the sea, Crab’s story seemed true.
“Pardon me, Cap’n,” Cod said, “but you said we was going south to the Central Islands.”
“Do you think I’d announce to all those sea dogs in Bilgewater my true heading?” Crab’s stubby nose wrinkled. The cabin door burst open. goblinrats poured down the stairs. Crab cut them down one after another, making a barricade of corpses. No normal
seafarer could handle a blade that well. Maeve guessed he was a Defender of Evaleen, an instrument of wrath to protect the Merciful Sisters.
“You’re a Defender, aren’t you, Crab?” Maeve asked as she skewered a goblinrat.
“Someone has to be.” Crab flashed a hideous smile, then lodged his sword in a goblinrat’s eye-socket. As he pulled the blade free, a goblinrat pounced with a cat’s speed. Crab fell back, and the girls screamed.
A desperate wish to keep the young women alive spurred Maeve into furious action. Never would she stand by and watch those who had dedicated their lives to the Merciful Goddess be harmed. The Sisters of White Abbey embraced Maeve, though they had known her mother was a witch. They’d been kind, despite Maeve’s little skill at worship or piety.
Maeve stabbed the next goblinrat to come over the pile as Bax cut the throat of the little monster clawing at Crab. Maeve slew another with a single stab through the ear. She glanced at the blood on her sword and felt the wetness in her hair. As more attacked, Maeve spoke the words of the ancient witches—using the blood on the floor and on her person to power the magic. The goblinrat blood in her hair hissed and evaporated like steam as terrible strength filled her. She pushed the goblinrats back, stabbing with her dagger in the close quarters of the stairwell.
Maeve’s hair rose from her scalp. She felt as though she was charged with unholy lightning from the Gods of Wrath. Maeve knew at that moment that the “mercy” she would bring would be swift and violent. The goblinrats paused their attack, driven beyond the doorway by her ferocious defense.
Metal bit into wood of the gunwales. The thunk of arrows hitting flesh and the screams of injured and dying goblinrats set Maeve’s heart racing even faster.
“The Angallians!” Lem shouted as the sound of more arrows and splashing noises reverberated outside. Lady Gail’s starboard gunwale bumped into a ship that had pulled alongside her. A booted boarding party landed on the deck, and the clash of weapons and war cries echoed in the fog.
“What are they shouting?” Lem asked, favoring his bleeding shoulder.
“Vulture,” Maeve said, wiping the goblinrat blood from her face, “it’s Cap’n Coyle and his crew.” Maeve stared at the three frightened young women. A cold realization settled over her as she pondered their fate at the hands of the notorious pirates. They wouldn’t be as lucky as she had been when handsome Bull Tierney spirited her onto to his ship and made her a woman.
“I can’t let them be taken.” Crab turned to the terrified novices. “Pray girls, and turn away,” Crab said in a gentle voice. “Ask the Goddess to forgive what I’m about to do.” He moved toward them with a dagger. And put his hand on the first girl’s shoulder.
“Sarah, Goddess be with you.” Crab moved to cut her throat.
“No!” Maeve grabbed his wrist. “There’s another way.” She looked into his teary eyes, full of pain and remorse. “In the hold, there’s a cask of kyanos poison. You don’t have to do this yourself. Only a sip will take their lives.”
The fighting on the deck stopped and a great cry of “Vulture!” went up from the victorious crew.
Maeve told Crab and the girls the doses of poison needed, and then sent them down the tiny hallway to the hold where they would face their end.
“Maeve Tierney.” Captain Coyle stood at the top of the stairs, “What a pleasure it is to find you in all this fog.”
* * * * *
Aboard Vulture, Maeve sat in Captain Coyle’s cabin on the edge of his bed with her boots off. He smiled as his crew started a raucous celebration on deck, yelling, drinking, and dancing at their good fortune.
“I didn’t think you’d be so . . . accommodating, Maeve Tierney.” Coyle’s gaze lingered on her chest.
“Don’t call me Tierney anymore.” Maeve sauntered forward and slipped her blouse off her shoulders. “How does Maeve Coyle sound to you?”
“So, are we to get to know each other better?” Coyle asked.
Maeve nodded. “It’s time for that drink.” She ran a finger down the middle of her chest as she sashayed toward him.
“I’d rather not be tasting this old rum.” Coyle put down his cup and wiped his lips.
“Maybe you’d like to taste it here?” Maeve poured the rest of Coyle’s drink on her cleavage. He buried his face between her breasts. After a moment he pulled away, his tongue protruding from his mouth. In shock, Coyle fell to his knees.
“Hear that?” Maeve asked. The sounds of the party on deck had gone silent. Coyle clutched his throat, unable to catch his breath. Maeve whispered over him. “The queen’s ransom is in a cave on Stove Pipe Island. Not that you’ll ever see it.” She wiped the rum off her skin as he fell to the floor.
“Witch, what have you . . .” Coyle’s body spasmed as he had a seizure and gasped his last breath, dying with the shock of her betrayal frozen on his face.
Maeve went on deck and inspected the bodies of Vulture’s crew. Some men were slumped near the barrels of rum taken from Lady Gail, apparently trying to get one last drink before they died. She found the red-haired Yorskan and kicked him in the side—just to be sure—before she reached for Baxter’s silver-handled dagger. The Yorskan’s eyes opened and he grabbed her ankle. Maeve’s pulled the blade from his belt and stabbed him in the heart.
After freeing Bax, Lem, and Cod from the Vulture’s brig, they all climbed down a rope ladder to Lady Gail. The girls were still hiding in the half flooded bilge holding vials of poison in case they were discovered.
“Did they like the rum?” Crab asked as he climbed out of the wet crawlspace.
Maeve shrugged. “I’m afraid they drank too much.”
Crab moved to hug the three girls and Maeve said, “Stop. You’ll infect them.”
Finneous Crab let out a hearty laugh and ran his hands over his face. A golden light flared from his palms and the leprous skin was gone, replaced by tan wrinkles any man who had spent his life on the sea would be proud to have.
“He’s a wizard!” Lem said.
“Not exactly,” Crab smiled and hugged the girls.
Maeve laughed. “Just a trick to scare off the pirates?”
“A Cap’n worth his salt has to have his tricks.” Crab winked.
Bax cleared his throat. “Now let’s top off our supplies from Vulture’s stores and get underway. We don’t want to wait around for more goblinrats or the Angallians to come aboard.”
“What’s our course?” Cod asked.
“North,” Crab said, “to Seaton Island where I can drop off Faith, Winnie, and Sarah. I’ve made a solemn vow to bring them to safety.”
“North, you say.” Maeve’s eyes sparkled. “There’s an island up north where I’d like to stop.”
“Which one?” Crab asked.
“Stove Pipe.” Maeve said nonchalantly.
Lem and Cod jumped. Dread masked their faces.
“Those waters are full of pirates and worse,” Crab said. “I’d have to be a fool to sail my ship there.”
“You’d be a fool not to,” Maeve said, “because there’s a queen’s ransom waiting for us. Equal shares for everyone. Then we can go to Seaton Abbey together. The Merciful Sisters who raised me said the marriage chapel there was a sight to see.” Maeve smiled at Bax, who seemed rather stunned. “I’ve always wanted to live in one of those white houses above the cliffs.”
“Told you she knew where the queen’s ransom was.” Lem slapped Cod on the shoulder.
“Maeve, why tell me, a Cap’n you barely know?” Crab asked.
“Because I know I can trust you.” Maeve smiled confidently.
Crab raised a bushy eyebrow. “Why is that?”
Maeve glanced at the novice priestesses. “Because you’re not a pirate.”
“Don’t be so sure about that.” Crab grinned as he walked away.
Bax stared at Maeve in disbelief. “Equal shares?”
“Well, not quite equal,” she whispered.