Turning to the third guard, T’ruck found four members of his crew had rushed in behind him and pulled the man down. They were busy giving him the last beating of his life as more of North Gale’s crew squeezed into the room and finished off the two guards T’ruck had left unconscious.
The witch pushed past a few of T’ruck’s pirates with her enslaved officer in tow. She glanced at the three bodies only momentarily, taking more interest in the parchment the guard had been writing on.
“A poem,” she said with a wry smile. “To his wife. A shame it will never reach her – the man appeared to have some skill with words.” She stepped over the corpse of the soldier she’d just praised and approached the door that led to the rest of the ship.
“We will need weapons. Where are we likely to find the armoury?” the witch asked her minion.
“There is a store of weapons two decks down, my lady,” the officer said in a voice as blank as his face.
“Are we likely to encounter any of your crewmates?” T’ruck squeezed past a couple of his crew, wondering why they seemed so determined to fill the small room.
“Yes,” the officer said. “Just below us are the quarters assigned to the knights.”
T’ruck felt his blood go cold. “Is the Sword of the North down there?” He heard Yu’truda gasp.
“No,” said the officer. “Sir Derran left a few days ago aboard Gold Glitter.”
“Thank fuck,” Yu’truda muttered. She’d witnessed the man’s ability to deal death first-hand, and was lucky to have escaped herself.
T’ruck inched open the door and glanced through. The hallway beyond was empty for now, but there was no telling where the other soldiers might be. “We need those weapons,” he said.
“Stealth is our strongest ally.” Lady Tsokei lingered nearby. “I can weave illusions to keep us hidden for a short time, but we must move quickly and be ready to kill anyone who spots us. Some are curiously resistant to such magic.”
They exited the guardroom quickly, with the enslaved officer leading the way and Lady Tsokei just behind him. T’ruck followed, leaving his crew to jostle for spots in the procession. They set a brisk pace, only briefly checking interconnecting hallways before moving on. They encountered no soldiers or sailors until they came to the ladder leading to the lower decks.
Just as the officer reached the ladder, a head poked up from below – a sailor by the looks of him, with crooked teeth and a sunburnt complexion. He nodded to the officer before noticing the line of pirates behind.
“The prisoners…” the man said, looking utterly confused, before T’ruck barged past the witch and her minion, grabbed him under the arm and hauled him up, clamping a meaty hand over his mouth.
Pain blossomed in T’ruck’s side, and he looked down to see a small knife sticking out of his flesh very close to a barely healed wound he’d received during the battle aboard North Gale. With a grunt, T’ruck tossed the man to his crew, who proceeded to quietly beat the poor fool to death. He pulled the knife from his side and handed it to Yu’truda.
“How bad is it?” said Lady Tsokei.
“A scratch,” T’ruck bragged, wincing at the pain. It didn’t appear to have hit any vital spots, but the wound was bleeding and hurt like fire on his skin.
Lady Tsokei narrowed her eyes at him, and T’ruck did his best not to let the pain show.
“We should keep moving,” he said.
The witch spoke in a language T’ruck didn’t recognise and tapped a finger on his new wound. Pain erupted in T’ruck’s side and he stumbled, collapsing against the wall, his vision swimming. He bit down, squeezing his teeth together as hard as he could to stop himself screaming as the pain in his side grew and grew until he was certain someone was cutting him open from the inside.
The pain started to lessen, dwindling down until it was no more than a dull ache, and T’ruck realised his eyes were squeezed shut. He opened them and saw Yu’truda standing over him with an expression caught between terror and anger.
“What did she do?” Yu’truda said.
T’ruck looked down at the wound. It had closed, and was now little more than a small, angry red line on his bronzed skin.
“She healed you?”
T’ruck looked over towards the ladder, where the witch was waiting patiently. He wasn’t sure whether to dash her head against the decking or thank her.
“I did not heal you,” Lady Tsokei said. “That ability is far rarer than you might imagine. I simply sped up your natural healing at great cost to yourself. You may find yourself weaker than normal for a few days, but it is better than having you collapse from loss of blood before this night’s work is finished. Are we ready to continue?”
T’ruck pushed himself back to his feet and ignored the slight wobble in his legs. “Aye. We’ve not even started yet.”
The enslaved officer set his feet on the ladder and started down, followed closely by Lady Tsokei, who chanted as she went. T’ruck waited a few seconds, then set his own feet to the ladder and started to descend. Before long he found himself passing through a large, open area of the ship with bunks lining either side, each complete with a bulky chest and an armour stand. Of particular concern was the number of men in the room, most of whom had a distinct warrior feel about them, both in the way they moved and the way they smelled.
T’ruck froze, unsure whether to continue down or head back up before any of the men saw him. It was a wonder they hadn’t already, given his size and how conspicuous the ladder was. He spotted the witch standing just at the foot of the ladder, waving frantically at T’ruck in a downwards motion. She was holding one hand out towards the knights and appeared to be chanting. Whatever magic she was using, it was hiding him from sight, and with one last glance at the knights as they joked and drank and gambled, he resumed his descent at a faster pace.
At the bottom of the ladder was another hallway, where the enslaved officer was waiting silently. T’ruck felt more than a little uneasy with the witch above him maintaining her illusion; if any soldiers discovered him and his crew while they waited, he might have a hard time stopping them before they raised the alarm.
His crew climbed down quickly, one at a time and full of hushed panic. When Yu’truda hit the deck she pulled T’ruck aside and whispered in his ear.
“What are we gonna do, Cap’n? There must be fifty knights up there, and a fuck load more soldiers throughout the ship. We’re twenty. We can’t…”
“Trust in the witch,” T’ruck grumbled, silencing his quartermaster. “She’s as much stake in this as the rest of us, and she can get us through it.”
T’ruck didn’t wait for her reply. The last of his crew hit the deck and stood aside as the witch followed them down. Her face was coated in sweat and her hands were shaking.
“That’s some useful magic,” T’ruck whispered.
Lady Tsokei froze him with a stare. “If only you knew the cost,” she said in a haunted voice before turning to her enslaved officer. “Lead the way to the armoury.”
There were two soldiers guarding the door to the armoury, and both were carrying sharpened steel. They would be no match for twenty-two angry pirates, but T’ruck doubted they would fall without a fight, and he couldn’t afford to lose even one of his surviving crew. Lady Tsokei had a different plan in mind.
Dropping any attempt at stealth, the witch marched towards the two guards with T’ruck and his crew following along behind her. T’ruck felt the hairs stand up on his skin, and a sudden, unnatural fear fell upon him. It took every drop of willpower he had not to run from the woman and find the nearest dark corner to hide in. The soldiers didn’t fare so well.