Cole had seen the Core earlier that day. The blue orb of permanent energy had been created by Salazar many years ago at an exorbitant cost of raw magical material. When connected to the platform that floated a hundred yards to port, the Core would cause the gigantic drill underneath the platform to rotate at unimaginable speeds, tearing up the sea bed faster than a hundred men with picks and axes. Of course, the machine still required that divers identify spots for drilling, as well as gather up the loosened material and place it in nets to be hauled to the surface.
‘How long before we move?’ asked Cole. Nightfall was almost upon them.
‘A half-bell,’ replied Three-Finger. ‘They’re going to take Soeman over to the platform now and have him test the drill.’
‘Perfect,’ replied Cole. If Soeman could cause the Core to malfunction and start a blaze on the platform, the soldiers over on both ships would need to cross over to investigate. In the ensuing confusion, the twelve conspirators would make for Red Bounty’s rowing boats and then the undefended carrack nearby. They would overpower the crew, and then cut and run. Red Bounty would never catch them.
A thought occurred to the young Shard. ‘What about Soeman?’ he asked. ‘He’ll be stuck on the platform.’
Three-Finger shrugged. ‘If the man has any sense, he’ll leap off and swim for the Redemption.’
‘Good enough for me,’ said Cole, though he still felt a certain amount of trepidation. What if the engineer’s obvious lack of backbone caused him to falter at the last moment? Not everyone possessed the iron resolve he had been blessed with. ‘And the weapons?’ he asked. This was an important part of the plan.
Three-Finger grinned again. The scabrous convict only ever seemed to smile when the topic involved inflicting misery on someone.
‘You see that barrel over there? The third one in? There’s more than water inside it. Six pickaxes, four hand axes, a hatchet and a crowbar, to be precise. All gear capable of smashing a man’s head in.’
Cole rubbed his hands together in satisfaction. Everything was going exactly as he predicted. If only Garrett had possessed the foresight to acknowledge the brilliance of his young charge, the Shards would probably have liberated Dorminia already.
Three-Finger scratched at his festering cheek. ‘Are you sure about this, kid? I’m seeing some margin for error if things don’t go to plan. We’ll need to be ready for a fight if it comes to it.’
Cole rolled his shoulders and clenched his fists as if a fight was exactly what he was hoping for. In actual fact, he had slipped off into pleasant thoughts of Sasha and her reaction when he told her about his heroics. He could hardly wait to see the adulation in those dark eyes-
‘Kid?’ said Three-Finger again. ‘I asked if you were ready for a fight.’
He tore himself away from his daydream. ‘I was born ready,’ he replied, as grimly as he could manage. ‘And my name’s Davarus Cole. Don’t you forget it.’
Three-Finger narrowed his eyes. ‘If you say so. We’d best get into position. The show’s about to start.’
Ten minutes later the conspirators were crowded near the railing, watching the platform floating out at sea. Soeman was there, along with Armin and two of his assistants. The engineer was bending over a metal frame situated next to the base of the drill. The rest of the huge contraption was submerged in the water below. Soeman fiddled with the frame for a moment, and then took the glass box housing the Core from Armin and motioned at the other engineers to step back. He bent down and placed the glowing blue orb inside the frame.
There was an instant humming noise and the sensation of energy gathering in the air. Cole felt his hair standing on end. The smell of sulphur reached his nostrils.
With a monstrous whine the base of the drill began to turn. It spun faster and faster, until the whole platform vibrated beneath it. The magical core was first a vibrant blue, and then an odd shade of purple, and finally all colour bled from it until it became a white sphere bright enough to make Cole’s eyes water.
There was a blinding flash of light like a small sun exploding. Suddenly the night sky was lit by fire. Tongues of flame lapped greedily across the platform. Armin was on his knees, his two assistants smouldering gently nearby. Soeman had disappeared, apparently vaporized by the energy unleashed from the malfunctioning Core.
Concerned shouts went out all over Red Bounty. A boat was lowered. Cole glanced across at the Redemption and saw the explosion had also caught the attention of the soldiers on the carrack. They began to board their own boat. Everything was going as planned.
‘Now!’ he shouted to the men around him. As one, they ran over to the barrel where they had spent the best part of a day secretly stashing implements for the bloody work to come. Cole reached in and pulled out the crowbar. Damn it.
The boat from Red Bounty reached the wreck of the platform at the same time as the vessel from the Redemption drew level with the big cog. The voice of Falcus hissed at them from the boat. ‘What happened? Someone put those fires out!’
Cole took stock of the situation. Red Bounty’s small crew were standing around gaping at the burning platform, completely oblivious to the mutiny happening on their ship. This was the moment.
‘Make for the boat!’ he yelled. He bounded across the deck, leaping over coils of rope and piles of crates. The cog’s second rowing boat was secured near the mizzenmast. Three-Finger and Jack fell upon it with hatchet and axe, cutting away the lines that held it in place. The twelve men lifted the boat above their heads and lowered it over the side of the ship with a splash. Jack fetched up a coil of rope and tied one end to the railing. Then he hurled the rest over the side, where it unravelled all the way down to the water.
‘Down the rope,’ Cole yelled. Each of the prisoners took hold of the rope and slid down into the waiting boat. It was only designed to carry eight passengers but they piled in regardless, each man grabbing an oar and paddling for dear life towards the Redemption in the distance.
We’re going to do this, thought Cole in elation. After what seemed like an eternity they reached the carrack. There was a grappling hook in the boat, and Jack threw it with masterful aim so that it snagged the prow of the ship above them. One by one they scaled the rope and climbed up onto the deck of the Redemption.
A young sailor stared at the newcomers with confusion. ‘Hey, what are you doing-’ he began, but Three-Finger’s hatchet took him in the middle of the head and split his face in half.
Captain Kramer ran over, flanked by two soldiers who hadn’t boarded the boat sent to investigate the burning platform. ‘What is the meaning of this?’ he demanded.
Cole stepped forwards. ‘We’re taking this ship, Captain. Turn her around and sail due west immediately.’
Kramer’s jaw clenched and he ground his teeth together as if he was trying to chew rocks. ‘Not a chance! Men, kill these bastards!’
The two Watchmen raised their swords and were met by Three-Finger, Jack and four other captives. It was brief and bloody. The soldiers were better armed, but the escapees were desperate and outnumbered the red-cloaked soldiers three to one.
The man whose teeth had been shattered took a sword through the chest, but the Watchmen were soon stabbed, bludgeoned and stomped to death by the remaining runaways.
The Redemption’s small crew had fetched their weapons in the melee. They now stood facing the escapees uncertainly. Three-Finger had an arm around Kramer’s throat, the edge of his hatchet tickling the captain’s chin. ‘Tell your men to back off and turn this ship around,’ he snarled.