Navy soldiers and sailors alike gave up the idea of putting the blaze out and started abandoning ship, many making the jump over to Starry Dawn, but Elaina had no time to fight them. She needed to save her boat.
“Cut us free!” she screamed again, hacking at another grapple as a soldier landed on the deck behind her.
The hulls of the two ships bumped together, and Elaina was close enough to feel the heat of the fire. She hacked away another grapple, then put her hands against the navy ship’s railing and pushed.
“Push!” she cried, closing her eyes tight and shoving with every bit of strength she could muster.
The heat was intense, uncomfortably hot on Elaina’s hands and face. She opened her eyes; the orange blaze was close, far too close for comfort. The black flame, having already set most of the deck on fire, was spinning and turning as it hunted for something fresh to consume.
There were folk all over the railing now, pushing with everything they were worth, and slowly – far too slowly for Elaina’s liking – the two ships started to drift apart.
The black flame shifted course and began to twist towards Starry Dawn, snaking its way across the blazing deck. The heat became oppressive as the other ship was turned into an inferno. The dark fire reached the railing just a few feet away and Elaina backed up a step, her eyes wide and pinned to the monster. The flame held there for a moment, and Elaina wondered if it was watching her somehow. Then it spun away to hunt for easier prey.
A scrap of burning sail floated down into the chasm between the two ships as they drifted apart, the last stretch of fire mercilessly cut away from Starry Dawn. Elaina took a deep breath and coughed from the smoke she inhaled.
“Good job,” she managed to wheeze out. Her heart was racing and her hands were shaking a little from the excitement. She clapped the nearest man on the shoulder and gave him a wild grin. The Five Kingdoms soldier grinned back.
Chapter 62 - North Storm
T’ruck opened his eyes to deep blue smudged with black. The sky was cloudless and beautiful, marred only by scant wisps of smoke. His head rang like a bell struck too many times, and he felt sick to his stomach. He was floating, soaked through, and he tasted salt on his lips. The hulking mass of North Storm drifted into view on T’ruck’s right. It was impossible to mistake the behemoth for anything else.
Slowly the ringing started to get quieter. There was something else, another sound, something above the lapping of waves against the creaking hull of his ship. Screaming. The screams of the dying, awash in pain, were a peculiar noise. Nothing else in the world sounded quite like a man who didn’t want to die.
T’ruck breathed in deep and brought his legs down to start treading water. For a sailor and a pirate, T’ruck wasn’t a good swimmer, and it took him longer than he would have liked to paddle over to North Storm’s hull. The ship was riding low in the water and listing over towards him, but even so there was nothing to grab hold of, no way to pull himself up out of the water.
With a growl of frustration, T’ruck dug his fingernails into the hull, trying to hook them into the little seams between the planks of wood that made up his ship. Once he deemed his fingers secure, he pulled himself upwards, scrabbling against the hull with his boots. Hand over hand, with his nails tearing and screaming in pain, T’ruck began his climb, anger fuelling every inch.
With bloody hands and fingernails ripped from their beds, T’ruck clung to the side of his ship like a determined spider. But even he had limits, and this was one of them. He screamed, raw frustration lending volume to his voice.
A face appeared over the railing, looking down. His first mate, Pocket, spotted with blood and grinning like a serpent’s maw.
“Thank fuck, Captain. I ain’t ready to lead this ship.”
“Rope,” was the only reply T’ruck could manage.
“Aye aye, Captain.”
T’ruck felt another fingernail begin to rip free from its bed and he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the searing pain. Something slapped against his back and he opened his eyes. A rope was dangling from above, Pocket staring down at him once more.
T’ruck pulled his remaining nails from the side of his boat and pushed off with his feet, grabbing hold of the rope as he did so. His back bumped against the hull and he started to pull, dragging himself up hand over hand.
Reaching the railing, T’ruck swung a leg over and rolled onto the deck of his ship, wasting no time in regaining his feet and taking in the damage. North Storm was in chaos. Whatever trickery the Five Kingdoms dung slugs had used on them had caused damage and carnage on a grand scale.
“We’re fucked, Captain,” Pocket said. “Boat’s barely moving and we lost a lot of people, still not sure how many. Below decks is even worse.” He paused. “And the cat is dead.”
T’ruck glared at his first mate. Pocket backed up a step and held up his hands.
The main mast was down, the deck around it splintered and broken. The mast itself lay half across the ship and half in the water. Nearby there was a hole in the main deck, scorched wood and bits of men and women dotted all around. Injured pirates were clustered here and there, some tending to their own wounds, some in the lengthy process of dying and letting everyone nearby know about it.
“We’re drifting,” T’ruck rumbled. Beyond the chaos of his ship, the battle was still waging. Ships entangled with ships. Boats on fire, both black and orange. Wreckage floating on the waves. An explosion thundered across the water and one of the other pirate vessels started sinking, a section of its hull bursting outwards and upwards and smoke billowing forth. He knew that kind of explosion well; black powder was the cause, and lots of it.
One of the navy ships, a Man of War yet untouched by the battle raging around it, detached from its neighbours and turned towards North Storm. T’ruck judged they had very little time before they would be wading through blood, both Five Kingdoms’ and their own.
“Get the mast cut away,” he said to Pocket, and scanned the deck of his ship.
Lady Nerine Tsokei was standing aft, near the wheel. Her dark brown skirt was ripped in places and her green blouse could be seen through similar rents in her jerkin. The witch’s hair was tousled, and her dark eyes looked like a predator’s, searching for prey.
“You’re alive,” T’ruck said with a smile. He’d feared the witch might have been caught in one of the explosions, and not just because he needed her help.
“Alchemy is nothing but a pale mockery of magic,” Lady Tsokei said through gritted teeth. “I wish to strike back, Captain.” Blood was dripping from the fingers of the witch’s left hand. She was wounded, but her pride would never let her admit it. T’ruck respected that stubbornness.
“There.” He pointed at the approaching Man of War. “We need time to recover from the attack, time to get my ship in order. They’re all yours – if you can take them.”
Lady Tsokei shot a dark glance towards T’ruck, and he felt the fear she projected so intensely that he took an involuntary step backwards. The witch looked away, and T’ruck felt his courage return.
“You and you,” he said, pointing to two nearby pirates, “grab a shield and protect the lady at all costs.”
“I do not need protecting, Captain,” the witch said.
T’ruck stepped close and looked down at the smaller woman. “You are aboard my ship, and I’ll damned well protect you if I want to. No matter the magic you possess, I doubt you are immune to a well-aimed arrow.”
Lady Tsokei nodded.
T’ruck grinned and turned away. “Kill them all.”
Chapter 63 - Starry Dawn