Drake’s accusation hit home, but Keelin wasn’t about to let that show. He kept his face stony, neutral.
“It’s all about greed, Stillwater. Whether the gain is money, power, fame, or even the freedom that being a pirate offers. Fact is, we’re all in this game because we want something for ourselves. So yeah, what I’m proposing does in fact benefit Drake fucking Morrass. Doesn’t mean I’m not also trying to save these people and the isles.”
Keelin wasn’t even sure what the man was proposing just yet, but there was something more important he needed to know first. “And just how do you benefit from your plan?”
Drake smiled, one golden tooth glinting in the fading light. “I intend…”
Boom!
Chapter 11 - The Phoenix
Yanic opened his eyes to dim afternoon sunlight and dark thunderous clouds. The world sounded muted and painful, and he was so tired. His body seemed to agree, so he closed his eyes and let sleep claim him.
Something hard hit him in the arm and he heard shouting, close and far away at the same time. He tried to roll over in his bunk, but the pain got worse so he lay back down. He coughed, and almost gagged on something bitter and metallic.
His bunk felt harder than usual, and that took some doing. A first mate might get his own cabin, but that cabin was small and his cot was packed straw, tough and lumpy. Something shook him, and the pain flashed through his body like lightning.
“Fucking shtop it,” he slurred. His voice sounded so far away, which seemed strange. With great effort he opened his eyes to see the blue sky, dim light, thunderous clouds, and the face of a pretty young man who barely looked old enough to grow hair on his stones.
It took a moment for Yanic’s mind to realise everything wasn’t right. “What’s goin’ on, Feather?” he mumbled up at the pretty young sailor.
“Ship exploded, Yan,” Feather said, his voice so distant.
“What?” Yanic sat bolt upright. The world took a turn for the worse and his vision decided it couldn’t keep up. Next thing Yanic knew, he was curled up in a ball, retching up his most recent meal, and his entire left side felt as though it were on fire.
“Yan? Yan?” Feather’s voice was starting to sound a little less muted now, but it was high pitched and urgent.
Yanic opened his eyes again to see a puddle of vomit and blood on the wooden decking. Something about that seemed more than a little worrying, but he didn’t have time to sort it out. “The Phoenix?”
“Still floating,” Feather said. “But Cold Rain is gone. Just… gone.”
Now the world was coming back into focus, Yanic could hear voices crying and shouting in panic. Boots thumping along decking. Something that sounded a lot like fire. He looked down at his left arm to find it covered in red and, by the feel of things, most of it was his.
“Bollocks. That don’t look too good.” He rolled onto his arse and realised for the first time that the thunderous black clouds were actually thunderous black smoke.
“What do we do, Yan?” Feather said, shaking him by the shoulders.
Yanic felt his eyelids growing heavy and shook his head to clear the cobwebs. “Get everyone back on board. Find the captain.”
“Aye,” Feather agreed, sounding a little more confidant now he had orders. “Aye. Will do. What about you?”
Yanic lowered himself down onto his back, ignoring the searing pain in his left side. “Reckon I might just have a little nap.”
A deafening thunderclap rolled over them, cutting Drake off and stunning them all. Keelin shook his head in an attempt to clear the ringing in his ears, but to no avail. Drake looked similarly bemused by the sudden noise.
“Look,” the Sarth woman in the hat said, pointing down towards the town of Sev’relain. “The bay.”
A great plume of black smoke had appeared off the shore, and it looked like there was burning debris on the water. The distant sound of a scream echoed up out of the town.
“Was that a ship?” Keelin asked, not really expecting anyone to answer.
“Magic?” Drake said.
“Worse,” she replied. “That is a black powder explosion.”
“How can you tell?” Keelin was struggling to contain the creeping sense of panic descending upon him. “And how is that worse? And how much black powder does it take to do that?” He pointed at the plume of black smoke out in the bay.
The woman didn’t appear to be listening to him. Her head was cocked towards the nearby forest, and she was muttering something to herself.
“What in the Hells is she doing now?” Keelin demanded of Drake.
There were people emerging from the nearby houses, staring towards the bay, including some of the armed guards from Loke’s personal estate. Most were wearing expressions tending towards the panic Keelin was suppressing.
“There are men moving through the forest,” the woman said eventually. “By the sound of it they’re wearing armour.”
“Sarth?” Drake said in a harsh voice little more than a whisper.
The woman shrugged. “They’re close.”
Keelin decided sometimes it was best to give in to the panic. “I have to get back to my ship.”
“Aye,” Drake agreed as he backed away from the trees. “Folk’ll be occupied with the explosion, and nobody comes into town armed anyways. This’ll be another massacre.”
One of the guards from Loke’s estate, a bald man with a perfectly groomed moustache, trotted over to them. “What’s going on?” he said.
“Sarth is attacking.” If Drake was at all surprised by events he certainly wasn't showing it.
“Shit.”
“Fair sums it up. Stillwater, you with us?”
Keelin felt someone grab hold of his arm, and he was turned to face Drake. “I need to get back to my ship,” he said.
“How’s your hold, Captain Stillwater?” Drake said. “Is it empty.”
“Bits and pieces,” Keelin said, coming round a little. “Barely worth selling.”
“Dump it. Get to your ship, and take on board as many of the townsfolk as you can.”
“What?”
A man emerged from the tree line. He was wearing the blue-black uniform of a Sarth soldier with a shiny cuirass over the top, and he was carrying a shield and a longsword. He shouted something behind him when he saw the four people staring his way.
There was a loud bang, and the soldier staggered backwards and collapsed. Drake’s companion holstered one pistol and drew another.
“Get back to your ship, Stillwater,” Drake shouted. “And take as many folk as you can with you. Anyone left on this island is going to die!” With that, Drake gave Keelin a hard shove in the direction of Sev’relain. Keelin took the hint and broke into a run just as he heard more shouts from behind. He didn’t bother turning to see if anyone was following him.
By the time Keelin reached the docks it felt like half the folk of Sev’relain were at his back. He and the bald guard from Loke’s estate hadn’t been quiet about the issue of the attack, and while many folk had dismissed the crazed men running through the streets shouting bloody murder, just as many others had heeded the warning. Word of the massacre at Black Sands had left everybody on edge, and some folk, it appeared, had already packed their belongings ready for flight. Those same folk would meet a rude awakening if they tried to take any of their crap with them on Keelin’s ship.
He had, at some point during his mad run to the docks, decided Drake was right about one thing, if nothing else. The people of Sev’relain would be murdered to every man, woman, and child if they didn’t escape the island. There was simply no way any of them could stand up to a determined force of soldiers from Sarth.