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Keelin pulled. His fingers, hands, and arms burned from the effort. Slowly he began to rise. After a few moments his arms were above the ledge, and Elaina pulled him into the safety of the building.

Keelin rolled onto his back and sucked in lungful after lungful of air. His heart was beating loudly in his ears and he could feel every limb shaking with either exertion or fear or, more likely, both.

“Get up, Keelin,” Elaina growled. The woman was already on her feet, staring out across the gap they’d just leapt.

A grim chuckle escaped Keelin’s lips as he rolled onto his front and struggled to get his feet beneath him. His arms and legs ached, and his face stung like it had recently had an unfortunate meeting with a stone wall. He was fairly certain there was nothing funny about his current situation, definitely nothing worth chuckling about, but he laughed all the same. The laugh died in his throat when he looked out across the gap and saw exactly what had become of Bronson.

The pirate stood on the far side, waiting across the broken skybridge. His face was a red mask of torn flesh and muscle, with bone showing beneath. Part of his lip had been torn away to reveal teeth and gums. Bronson’s hands were even worse. His fingers looked as if they’d been chewed on by animals, the flesh eaten away to show the bones, which looked like they’d been sharpened to points.

“He’s only been gone a few hours,” Keelin whispered. “What happened to him?”

“Spirits,” Elaina said as she paced back and forth, never taking her eyes from Bronson. “They got inside of him. Infested his body and soul. Ain’t nothing left of the man you sailed with, Keelin. They’re all over him. In him.”

Keelin shook his head. He’d seen some nasty things in his time at sea, but the idea that something had crawled inside one of his crew and turned the man into… something else – Keelin didn’t feel prepared to deal with that sort of monster.

“You remember the forests on the Isle of Goats?” Elaina said. “I used to take you there from time to time. Every now and then we’d come across someone who seemed lost. They just wandered about, unaware and unresponsive.”

“Aye,” Keelin said. “I remember. You used to say the forest had got to them. That’s what Tanner was always telling folk about. The reason he had all those wards placed.”

“Well, those were spirits,” Elaina continued, still watching Bronson. “Only, those ones weren’t violent for the most part. They’d get stuck inside of people and couldn’t find their way out.”

She looked at Keelin. “There’s spirits here too. All over the jungle and all over the city. But these ones ain’t so placid. Don’t reckon they take too kindly to us intruders. They want us good and gone, any way they can get it.”

Bronson turned slowly and walked back into the dark room. Keelin took in a deep breath. He’d known they would encounter magic in HwoyonDo – he’d been counting on it – but spirits were something else entirely.

“How can you…”

“Shh,” Elaina hissed.

Keelin shut his mouth and listened. He could hear a rhythmic thumping, getting faster and closer. He looked up.

Bronson reappeared out of the doorway at the other end of the broken skybridge and leapt towards them, flying through the air. Elaina reacted first, dashing forwards and jumping just as Bronson landed on their side of the bridge. She hit the big pirate with both feet and dropped to the floor, scrabbling to get away as Bronson teetered on the edge, his big arms waving back and forth.

Keelin started forwards, drawing his remaining cutlass with his left hand and passing it to his right. There was a crack, and the stone beneath Bronson fell away, taking the possessed pirate with it.

For a brief moment Keelin thought it was over, and he stopped, but Bronson caught hold of what was left of the ledge with his shredded fingers and held tight.

Keelin stepped forward, raising his cutlass and bringing it down on Bronson’s left hand. The blade cut through flesh and bone and rang as it connected with the stone beneath, but failed to sever the hand. With a wild jerk of his arm, Bronson tore Keelin’s cutlass from his grip and sent it sailing into the street below to join its partner.

Elaina grabbed hold of Keelin by the shoulders and turned him to face her. Fear and excitement had flushed her cheeks; it made her beautiful, and there was a wild look in her eyes that Keelin remembered well. Despite the danger, or maybe because of it, Elaina was enjoying herself.

“Run,” Elaina hissed, and she turned, fleeing deeper into the building at a sprint. Keelin took one last look at the monster Bronson had become as it struggled to pull itself up from the ledge, and chased after Elaina.

Chapter 38 - The Phoenix

“How are your hands?” the Five Kingdoms priest said as they marched through the abandoned streets.

“Stinging like an arse with the shits,” Aimi growled, with a bit more venom than she’d intended. The priest didn’t deserve her anger. With neither Keelin nor Elaina anywhere nearby, Aimi was directing her ire at whoever would have it.

“Perhaps I should have a look at them again next time we stop. I may have an ointment that would help.”

“Save it. I’ve had worse.” Aimi fell silent and the priest followed suit, though he stayed close, sending furtive glances her way.

Kebble was in front, leading the way, with Smithe beside him. The surly quartermaster was in charge, and that worried Aimi even more than the missing captains. Smithe was no fan of Keelin, or anybody for that matter, and it was more than possible that he would try to find a way to leave the captain to rot in HwoyonDo. Aimi knew she shouldn’t care. Keelin had been a fool, running off on his own, but no matter how much of an arse he might act, Aimi still cared for him.

Jotin and Jolan appeared from a nearby building, their faces betraying their unhappiness. They quickly moved to join the rest of the group, falling in just behind Smithe.

“More of nothing,” Jolan said with a sigh. “Everything here is long since rotted to dust. City is fucking dead.”

“That’s the third time ya’ve come back with nothing,” Smithe growled at the brothers. “Starting ta think ya ain’t looking right.”

“You wanna go have a fucking peek?” Jolan said. “Be my guest.”

Smithe turned and gave Jolan a hard shove that unbalanced the pirate and put him on his arse. Jotin’s hand moved to his sword, but one glare from Smithe convinced him not to draw the length of steel.

“Which one of us is in charge?” Smithe hissed.

Jolan let out a sigh and got his feet beneath him. “You are, Smithe. Sorry, mate.”

“Damned right I am. What I say goes, and I’m sending you two cunts off to look for treasure.”

“Ain’t nothing here, Smithe,” Jotin said. “We found a plate and a jug, and a couple of spoons, but… there ain’t nothing here. Kebble said the city has been abandoned for thousands of years. Things just don’t last that long.”

“Metal don’t rot,” Smithe said. “Gold don’t rot. Gems don’t rot.”

“There ain’t none of those things here,” Jotin said. “Unless ya want us to go back and get the spoons.”

“It’d be something.”

“At the first sign of the war starting, many people fled the city. I would assume they took anything of value with them,” Kebble said without looking back. “The streets were chaos. People were trampled underfoot.”

“So what the fuck are we doing here if there ain’t no treasure?” Smithe snarled.

“The temple will still house its riches. The priests would not have fled. No matter how much death rained down upon them, they would stay. And they were more than capable of fighting off any looters who may have mistaken the chaos for an opportunity.”

The group marched on in silence for a while. Aimi shielded her eyes and looked towards the sky. The sun was long past its zenith, and it was possible the light would start to wane soon. Being in the dead city after dark wasn’t something that appealed to her, but then neither was spending another night in the forest.