The pirate grinned at Kebble and clapped him on the arm. With a nod of thanks to the rest of them, Kebble limped off towards the Arbiter.
Immortality came in many forms. He was almost completely certain a fatal wound would end his curse, and yet he’d never received one. Even at times when it seemed certain he would, something always interfered. The pirates might believe the sand monster’s appearance to have been luck, but Kebble knew better.
The Arbiter looked lifeless. Her right arm was twisted beneath her body at an awkward angle and blood leaked from her nose. Her blond hair was a tangled mess, singed in places and covered in sand. Even with his eyesight, Kebble could see no rise and fall of her chest. She wasn’t the first dead Arbiter he’d seen, but with their longer lives it always felt sad to see one pass, especially one so young.
Kneeling down, Kebble let out a painful sigh and placed two fingers on the woman’s neck. It was somewhere beyond faint, but he felt the pulse of her heart still beating. The Arbiter survived, barely.
Kebble scooped his hands underneath her body and summoned the very last of his strength. Standing while carrying the Arbiter was a new sort of pain, and it took Kebble three attempts to get to his feet. He managed it. He wasn’t sure which destination was the best. The woman needed to be tended to immediately by someone with more medical knowledge than his own, but the ship’s doctors were little better than butchers and they no doubt had more than enough folk to deal with already. Setting his feet towards the town, Kebble started up the beach.
Chapter 15 - The Phoenix
Soldiers were slipping past the pirate lines and making for the town, and Keelin feared they intended to set fire to everything the folk of New Sev’relain had been building for the last year. Taking the big, axe-wielding Ferl with him, Keelin left the front lines in search of them. He was far more useful skirmishing with individual opponents than in a wall.
Keelin spotted a few men dashing through the doorway of the Righteous Indignation and set off after them. The people of New Sev’relain could probably recover from almost any tragedy, but the burning of their favourite tavern might be too much. The drinking hole had been built out of the bones of the Man of War that had destroyed Old Sev’relain, and had even been named after the ship. It was a testament to the hardiness and determination of the folk that had made their lives on the island.
An explosion echoed up from the beach; earlier, there had been a few towards the jungle end of town as well. Keelin had no idea what was happening around him, though he was fairly certain it involved plenty of death. He only hoped most of it was being served to the Five Kingdoms. It was a strange thought, given that if not for the sake of an abusive father, Keelin might have been one of the men attacking rather than the attacked.
With a worried glance at Ferl, which the big man shot right back, Keelin pushed through the doorway to the tavern and readied himself for a fight, his cutlasses already drawn and dripping blood. The tavern was dim, lit only by a single lantern behind the bar, and almost deserted. Every pirate and townsman who called New Sev’relain their home or safe harbour was outside, fighting for their lives. Keelin had never seen the tavern so empty. Even Tatters and the other drunks had left for the battle.
Three soldiers turned to face him. They’d been on their way to the stairs that led to the first floor, and now they walked nonchalantly back to the middle of the room, clearing tables and chairs out of the way with rough shoves. Two of the men wore the familiar armour of the soldiers that Keelin felt he’d been fighting forever. One of them wore no armour, only a plain yellow tabard cinched at the waist with a strip of red cloth. The man looked oddly familiar, and it took Keelin a moment to realise why.
“Derran?”
The man wearing the tabard laughed.
“You know him?” Ferl said. The man was pacing behind Keelin like a caged animal just waiting to be let free.
Keelin winced. He couldn’t reveal how he knew Derran without revealing his own past. Instead, he gave a non-committal grunt, wondering how he could extricate himself from the situation. As long as his brother recognised him there was no way it would end in a fight.
“Now it makes sense, brother,” Derran Fowl said, grinning. “You’re Captain Stillwater, the best swordsman in the Pirate Isles. I’ve been looking for you.”
“Brother?” said Ferl.
Keelin sighed. His secret was out now. Whatever happened from here, Keelin would just have to weather the storm somehow.
“Admiral’s orders were clear, Sir Derran,” said one of the soldiers next to Keelin’s brother. “Morrass and Stillwater are wanted alive for punishment.”
“I don’t care what your admiral’s orders are,” said Derran. “I can’t exactly test my little brother’s skill if it isn’t to the death.”
“Little brother?” said the soldier.
Derran’s sword whipped clear of its scabbard, sweeping first right and then left and then back into the scabbard all in the blink of an eye. The two soldiers flanking him swayed for a moment before dropping, blood leaking from their necks. Keelin took an involuntary step backwards and found Ferl standing next to him, looking equally as worried.
“He’s fast,” Ferl said with a slight tremble in his voice.
“Ever heard of the Sword of the North?” Keelin said. “Blademaster working for the Five Kingdoms who has killed more…” The sound of the door shutting behind him and the sudden lack of Fer at his side convinced him that the big pirate had indeed heard of the Sword of the North.
“What happened to you, little brother?” Derran said. “You always wanted to help the good folk, and now you’re killing them to steal from their masters.”
Keelin sighed and took a step towards him. “You ran away from home when I was just ten years old, Derran. I learned some hard lessons growing up. I learned the way the world really works.”
“It didn’t take you long to run away as well,” Derran shot back. “Burned down the family home on your way out.”
“You think Father was bad before you left? I was lucky to escape a day without a beating. And those were the good days, before Mother killed herself.”
Derran said nothing for a moment. “I’m sorry about Mother. But if you think the odd beating or two is a hard life, then maybe you are still the little boy I left dreaming of heroic deeds.”
Keelin barked out a laugh. “The odd beating or two? What Dad did to me was nothing compared to my time on The Black Death.”
Derran just smiled, and Keelin couldn’t help but return it. They’d been apart for longer than they’d ever known each other, but they were still brothers despite it all, and a fight seemed puerile and pointless now they were reunited.
“I almost had him a couple of years back, the bastard who killed Leesa,” Keelin said.
“Arbiter Prin,” Derran growled. The murder of their little sister had shaped so much of their lives. It had caused Derran to run away, and it had set Keelin on a path of revenge that had driven him for over half his life. “You really think you’re a match for an Arbiter, little brother?”
“For Prin I will be,” Keelin said venomously. “He needs to die for Leesa.”
“Then show me,” Derran said with a toothy grin. “I came here to fight the best swordsman in the Pirate Isles, and I’m not leaving until I test myself against him.”
“You want to spar?” Keelin said. “There’s a battle going on, Derran. My people are fighting and dying out there.”
“And if you want to go help them, you best beat me,” Derran growled.
Keelin realised he was still holding his cutlasses, and he remembered Derran’s words from earlier – “to the death”. Before he could argue any further, his brother was striding forwards, his sword flicking clear of its scabbard, and all smiles were long gone. Keelin had seen the look in his brother’s eyes hundreds of times before, in men he’d fought on land and sea. Derran Fowl meant to kill him.