Amidst congratulations and cheers, T’ruck departed the dinghy with his crew behind him and they were escorted from the pier. He found Drake, Keelin, and Tanner Black crowded around a small fire.
“Captains,” T’ruck said with a nod.
“T’ruck, you insane bastard,” Keelin Stillwater said. “We thought you were dead.”
T’ruck’s gaze drifted around the fire, coming to a sudden halt on the white-skulled face of Deun Burn. “You!”
Drake Morrass was up from his seat in a moment, placing himself between T’ruck and the filthy Riverlander. “Calm it down, Captain Khan,” Drake said, a dangerous note in his voice.
“He sent us into a trap.” T’ruck could sense the remaining members of his crew at his back, and there was anger there too.
“Wasn’t him,” Drake said, waving his hands in front of T’ruck’s face. T’ruck glanced down at him. “Was the other dumb bastard Riverlander, and he’s been… dealt with.”
T’ruck clenched his jaw so hard it hurt, his eyes darting from Drake to Deun Burn. “I would see his body.”
“They ate it,” Drake said quickly.
T’ruck stopped cold. “What?”
“Show him the face,” Drake hissed to the Riverlander.
Deun reached for the bag on his belt and pulled out a patch of leather, unfolding it and holding it up to the firelight. There were tattooed scales on the leather, and T’ruck had to admit it did look a lot like the face of the Riverlander who had sent them to die. The rage drained out of him as quickly as it had appeared, and T’ruck found himself tired and in desperate need of a drink, which Tanner Black handed over. T’ruck found it hard to believe that Drake had succeeded in gaining the alliance of Captain Black, yet here the man was and, judging by the smell of burning bodies, they’d only recently fought off the Five Kingdoms invaders.
“How did you do it?” Stillwater said, his voice full of awe. “How did you take that monster fucking ship?
“With just twenty-two of us,” T’ruck rumbled.
A murmur ran through the crowd, and only when T’ruck looked up did he realise how many folk had gathered. It looked like everyone. His own crew had collapsed onto the sand behind him, and even now he could tell that some of them were asleep already. Unfortunately he wagered it would be some time before he would find the sweet bliss of unconsciousness.
T’ruck told them then of how North Gale had been sent into a trap, and how they’d taken one of the ships before Storm Herald smashed into their midsection, splitting them in half and sinking them. He told them how he and his crew had been plucked from the water only to be thrown in the brig to languish until they reached the Five Kingdoms, where they were to be hanged. He told them of his escape and freeing the crew, and he told them nothing of the witch. His crew were sworn to secrecy; Lady Tsokei’s powers were to be revealed to no one. T’ruck told them little of how they’d taken the ship, only that they’d moved from cabin to cabin, murdering hundreds of men.
One of the other captains laughed when T’ruck said they must have killed a thousand soldiers, but he just stared at the man and challenged him to check the ship and the bodies that were still inside it. When T’ruck was done, Drake gave his own story, spinning a tale about how they’d guessed the attack on New Sev’relain was coming and had started preparations, but the losses had still been great.
T’ruck asked about Captain Damien Poole, and a new sadness washed over the crowd. Drake claimed Poole had been a true hero, and that he’d sacrificed himself to give the others time to get away from Ash. T’ruck would have found it hard to believe the man had even a drop of courage, and even harder to believe Poole would sacrifice his own life.
“We got a bit of a problem,” Drake said eventually. “People.”
“Reckon we got a few problems, mate,” Tanner barked.
“We need fresh blood,” Drake continued, ignoring Tanner. “Not just for our ships. For the town as well. We’ve lost too many of us already.”
“Ya want us to start breeding, do ya?”
Again Drake ignored Tanner. “We also need to start pirating again. Bastards sailing through our waters have been left too long, unharassed while we’ve been running and hiding. No more. From now on we travel in packs, and we take every fucking ship we can find. Merchants, navy, slavers…”
Another murmur ran through the crowd.
“There’s no money to be had from slavers,” Keelin said. The man’s arm was in a sling, and his leg was stretched out awkwardly in front of him.
“I don’t mean to take them for money,” Drake said. “I want you to take them and free the poor buggers in the holds.”
The crowd got louder.
“We need people more than money or food or weapons or anything else right now,” Drake shouted, loudly enough to silence the folk around him. “Reckon most folk who wear a collar would welcome a chance at freedom here on the isles.”
“You’ll be starting a war with the slavers guild,” Keelin said, quietly enough that only those nearby could hear.
“No,” Drake said with a shake of his head. “We’re just laying down the rules. Anyone – anyone – who wants to sail our waters has to pay. Slavers have had free passage for far too fucking long. I also need someone to sail to Larkos. Talk to the guilds, ask them for help.”
“I’ll go,” Keelin said quickly. “I have some contacts in Larkos that might be able to help.”
Drake looked torn for a moment, but nodded. “Good. This war ain’t won yet. Next time they come, they’ll come with everything they have, and we need to be ready. We need to meet them in the water, and we need to sink every last fucking one of them.”
Part 2 – All Hands on Deck
There will be a traitor in your midst said the Oracle
Who said Drake
Someone who was once an ally said the Oracle
Chapter 20 – Land's End
When the door to his cell opened, Daimen started. After days upon days upon days at sea, followed by a long stint in a gaol cell, he’d just about decided the bastards had all but forgotten about him. He fully expected them to parade him about the city before tying a rope around his neck and giving him the drop he deserved. As far as Daimen was concerned, he did deserve it.
His crew were dead. Every single one of the poor bastards, and it was all his fault. He’d led them into death, promised them a rescue that never came.
A right fancy looking man walked into the cell. He was followed by a giant of a knight dressed from the neck down in shiny steel and carrying a metal spear that looked as though it weighed as much as Daimen himself. The fancy one wore a dazzling blue suit and carried a sword at his hip, his posture suggesting he was well used to the weight of it. Daimen had seen a fair few aristocrats in his time, and he’d have happily bet his right testicle – the smaller of the two – on the man being noble born.
“Captain Daimen Poole,” the fancy man said in a fancy voice. There were no chairs in Daimen’s cell, only a small cot lined with straw and a bucket, so the man stayed standing. “My name is Jackt Veritean.”
Daimen laughed. “Fuck off, are ya.”
The man frowned, and Daimen had to admit it looked a very royal frown, but he wasn’t about to believe the king of the Five Kingdoms had climbed down off his golden throne to talk to one shipless pirate.
“I assure you, Captain Poole, I am…”
“Do ya see a ship round here anywhere, mate?” Daimen said. “Perhaps it’s in me bucket sailing on a sea of my shit? No? I ain’t captain of fuckin’ anything no more.” Daimen paused before adding, “Ya Majesty.”
The man who called himself king stared on with impressive patience. Daimen had a knack for grating on folks’ nerves, and he wondered how long it would take this man to learn it.