As he sprinted closer, one of the shield-bearers detached from the tight formation and stepped into Keelin’s path. It was all Keelin could do to throw himself to his left to avoid crashing into the man, but it put him directly in front of the soldiers and they stopped to confront him even as the pirates caught up and crashed into the little shield wall like sharp, pointy waves on a rock.
The first shield-bearer went down as one of the pirates got a dagger above his guard and into his neck. Before the rest of the soldiers could react, the tattooed pirate took down another with a swing of his axe that split a shield and damned near severed the arm that held it. One of the pirates took a spear to the chest and Keelin rushed forwards. Chopping the spear shaft in half with one of his cutlasses, he kept another shield-bearing soldier at bay with the other sword as the injured pirate was dragged away from the battle. Again the tattooed pirate leapt into the fray, his big axe whipping about his head and coming down hard on a shield, the force of the blow driving the soldier to his knees.
A second spear, this one still with a head, thrust out between two shields towards the tattooed pirate. Keelin could do nothing to stop it, caught up as he was with two men pressing him with shields. The big pirate screamed in pain but grabbed hold of the spear and ripped it from the soldier’s grasp.
The soldiers weren’t advancing; they hid behind their shields and slashed at anyone who came near. They were most likely waiting to be reinforced, but Keelin wasn’t about to give them the opportunity. A roar went up from the forest, the geyser choosing a good moment to go off. Everyone from New Sev’relain was used to the noise by now, but the soldiers weren’t and it caused just the distraction Keelin needed.
Advancing, he brushed away attacks then kicked hard into the shield of the soldier to his right, forcing the man back a step. Keelin stabbed at the soldier to his left, feeling his cutlass dig deep into the flesh of the man’s shoulder.
With a scream of pain, the soldier to Keelin’s left fell back just as the man on the right pushed forwards to protect his injured comrade. A moment later the soldier on the right fell down dead with a spear lodged firmly in his neck. Keelin glanced to his group to see the tattooed pirate grinning madly beneath his patchy beard.
With their group broken, the remaining two soldiers bolted back towards the treeline to reinforce another squad. There were battles all over the place, and the soldiers were starting to outnumber the pirates as more and more poured from the trees and more and more of the pirates fell.
“Take weapons and shields from the fallen soldiers,” Keelin called to his group.
“Don’t know how to use a shield,” one of the men said.
“Hold it in front of you and stab around it,” Keelin said. “You’re better off having one than not. What’s your name?” he asked the tattooed pirate.
“Ferl,” the man said as he looked down at the fallen soldiers’ weapons and decided to keep his axe instead.
“You’re a useful man to have around, Ferl. Who’s your captain?”
“Don’t got one,” the big man said through his beard.
Keelin grinned. “Then stick with me. All of you, with me,” he shouted as he charged towards a hard-pushed knot of pirates.
Kebble knelt in the dirt, raised his rifle, and sighted down the barrel. He picked his target and held his breath. The soldier was jabbing a spear over the top of his shield-bearing comrades and he kept dancing behind those shields to stay out of harm’s way, but Kebble was watching the man from the side, hidden far away from the combat.
He squeezed the trigger and braced against the recoil. The bullet impacted into the soldier’s shoulder and he went careening to the ground. Kebble had been aiming for the man’s chest. He hadn’t taken the crosswind into full account.
With a frown, Kebble stood, shouldered his bag, and turned away from the battle, already reloading his rifle. The pirates and people of New Sev’relain were losing the fight, and if it continued the way it was going they would soon all be dead or forced to flee again, and Kebble doubted their morale would recover after another massacre. Luckily for the people of New Sev’relain, they had him. Kebble had changed the tide of battle before, and he would do it again. Perhaps if he fought for enough lost causes he might even find a way to lift his curse.
He walked through deserted dark alleyways lit only by the light of the rising moon, setting a brisk pace but refusing to rush. People who rushed forgot things, missed things, made mistakes. Kebble had lived long enough to realise that calm hurry was far more useful than a mad dash.
A building loomed up ahead, though it wasn’t his destination. The warehouse would be far too obvious a hiding place. He turned left and walked past a few more dilapidated shacks until he came to a half-collapsed building that looked on the verge of total dereliction. It was, however, purposefully designed to look that way.
Kebble slung his rifle over his shoulder and pulled the door open. Inside there was barely enough room to move, and a part of the roof had fallen in, covering much of the floor with brittle palm leaves. A rolled-up shirt in the corner of the open area suggested someone had recently been camping out in the building, but they no doubt had no idea of the fortune they’d been sleeping on top of.
Kneeling down, Kebble shifted a pile of the leaves that had fallen in, scattering a variety of insects including one large, sluggish, grumpy-looking spider. Kebble had seen the pain that a spider bite could cause and he had no wish to experience it first-hand, so he calmly shooed the little beast away with one of the fallen leaves, inwardly cursing at the delay. After the spider had departed, he finished clearing away the debris and felt around for a loose floorboard, finding it in no time and quickly tearing it from its neighbours. After three more floorboards Kebble reached in and lifted out a single barrel from its hiding place.
He drew a knife from his belt and levered the lid from the barrel, revealing the black powder inside. They’d found ten kegs of the dangerous explosive after taking the Man of War. Kebble reached into his bag and pulled out a coconut, one of the few natural food supplies on the island – but this particular coconut was just a shell split in half and held together with a thin strip of cloth. Kebble unwrapped the fabric and filled the husk with black powder before placing the two halves back together and retying the cloth. He worked at a steady pace, hurrying but not rushing, all the while aware that every moment was another in which more of New Sev’relain’s people were dying. He had eight more coconuts to fill, and then he needed to find a fuse.
Chapter 13 - Fortune
Drake pointed at another group of soldiers emerging from the treeline. Clearly the Five Kingdoms bastards hadn’t expected much resistance. Now they’d realised their tactic of small groups of soldiers was going to cost them greatly, and they were starting to form a more cohesive mass, no doubt under the leadership of a seasoned commander.
“Tanner,” Drake shouted. “Over there. They need help.”
Tanner Black looked up from the soldier he’d trapped beneath his boot and followed Drake’s finger. “Aye, we’re on it,” the big captain growled, putting his full weight on the man beneath his foot and crushing his windpipe. Tanner stormed off to rejoin the battle, leaving the soldier flailing and clawing at his own neck, trying to suck in some air. Some battles were a hopeless cause, and the man was destined to die in the mud of New Sev’relain.
The crew of The Black Death were efficient killers – Drake had to give them that – though they also seemed to enjoy it a bit more than he was comfortable with. Tanner’s pirates were heavily armed, and even a couple of pistols. They were putting them all to good use, and many a Five Kingdoms soldier had died to their savagery. In fact, Drake was fairly certain the crew of The Black Death had done more for the people of New Sev’relain than the townsfolk had done for themselves.