“Let go of my wife!” Skiggi kicked the pirate who dragged him down a narrow aisle between cells constructed with rusty iron bars. The thin pirate yelped. Skiggi broke free. He dashed toward a burly female pirate who pulled his wife by her manacles. The burly woman, thrice the dwarf’s size, kicked Skiggi in the chest. He landed flat on his bottom. The thin pirate rushed from behind and wrapped his arms around Skiggi. “Bastards!”
The pirates dragged their captives across boot-worn planks, wrestled them into the cell where Gus leaned against the bars, and slammed the door shut. “Walk away, ole’ gal!” Skiggi shouted at the pirate lady. She turned and, with a half-squinted eye, spat a glob of tobacco juice through the bars of the cell. Grimy black spit stained Skiggi’s pants. “I hope you choke on that cud!” The pirates laughed as they walked away. “You’ll have to kill me before I go back to the mines!” Skiggi ran to the cell door and clasped his hands around its bars. He rattled the door. “Do you hear me? Cowards!”
“Shut up,” Captain Deacon grumbled, tucked between the tattooed twins in the cell next door, fur coat strewn across his lap. “Or they may take you at your word.”
“I mean it,” Skiggi said.
Dori placed a hand on Skiggi’s shoulder and pointed out Gus with the other. “Look!”
Skiggi took Dori’s hand and mumbled to himself as he moved over to Gus. “Right about now is when you say it. Well, go ahead. You were right. We should have taken a ship south and avoided this whole mess.”
“I won’t,” Gus said. Do they know where Rose is? Gus looked around. I’d best not mention her or Deacon’s men may betray us.
“How are we getting out of this one?” Dori asked.
Federico shared their cell, now wearing a bloody tourniquet on his arm. He laughed. “Dwarven slaves fetch a good price on the Southern Continent, but they’re worthless this far north. More than likely, they throw the two of you overboard, as we should have. Everyone knows bringing a dwarf onboard is bad luck!”
Smugglers in both cells agreed. “Yeah!” the old smuggler with hollow blue eyes, who shared their cell, cried. “I told you that, Captain!”
“Foolishness,” Deacon said. “Something bad happens every time you leave port—that’s part of sailing. And each of you knows that. We’ve sailed ghost-infested waters and monster-infested waters, and each of those superstitions turned out to be just that—foolishness.”
Federico tilted his head from left to right. “Fair. But you have to admit, this is the worst we’ve faced.”
“They sank the Crane.” Deacon glowered at his first mate.
“Sorry, Captain,” Federico said.
“He’s not my captain!” The hollow-eyed smuggler spat on the floor. “Any man who’d trade me for a stack of lumber is no captain of mine!”
Dori motioned Gus down to her level. Gus bent at the knees. Dori leaned close and whispered: “We need a plan.”
Gus nodded. “I’m working on it.”
“Everything was off the ship when they took us,” Dori said.
Gus hoped ‘everything’ meant what he thought it meant. “Did they separate everything? Or is it all on the same ship?” Gus asked.
Dori winked. “Yeah. Everything is on the same ship.”
“What?” Federico asked. “She doesn’t know what she’s saying! They split the crew and cargo between the ships—distributed the weight.”
“Oh,” Dori said.
“Who cares?” The hollow-eyed smuggler asked. “It doesn’t make our situation any better.”
That’s where you’re wrong, Gus mused. “They took all of my weapons,” he said. “We’re outnumbered. Right now, I don’t know what to do.”
The ship’s hull captured the cold and held little warmth. A wall separated the prison cells from the crew’s sleeping quarters, where pirates swung in their hammocks. Federico and six others piled up on the floor. Skiggi held his wife in his arms, cheek nestled in her auburn hair and mouth slightly ajar, drowning the fury of the seas with his snoring. Gus propped himself upright against Skiggi’s back. His restless head kissed cold iron. The cramped cold and the permeating stench of mold kept Gus wide awake. Where is she?
The ship stirred at dawn. Freemen jumped out of their hammocks and gathered around cooking pots on the top deck. Gus smelt the char of the fuel, the smoke of the fire, and the spices of their stews. Some preferred solitary meals, lounging in their hammocks and grazing on leaves of dried meat and loaves of bread. Their captives—at least those who roused—took to prayer or silent brooding. Gus tried to calculate a plan: We can use the fire powder to our advantage, but we can’t destroy both ships, or we’ll drown. My knapsack has a few poisons in it. Rose could poison their stews. The few who remain will not pose a threat, but the other ship will. Where is Rose?
The pair who dragged the dwarves to their cell entered from the sleeping quarters. The thin man fumbled with a ring of keys. Finding the match, he unlocked the cell door, but the lady stepped forward. “You three!” She pointed at Skiggi, Dori, and Gus. “Come on!”
Gus grasped the bars of his cell and lifted himself off the floor. Skiggi, still sound asleep, fell backward. The thump of his head on the seasoned planks woke him. Dori rolled off her husband, stretched her arms out wide, and yawned. “What?” she looked up at Gus, who loomed over them both. Blinking eyes found the burly pirate waiting at the door. “Oh.” She stood. Dori offered a hand to Skiggi.
The pirates stepped back and allowed their shackled prisoners to exit the cell. The thin man took the lead. “Move it!” the sea hag howled. They passed through the sleeping quarters and found a stairway leading to the deck. Both pirate vessels rocked upon the waves, their unfurled sails clinging to their masts. The other crew readied their ship a hundred yards to the East. Gus estimated that thirty-seven pirates manned their floating prison. They approached the stern castle’s door, which looked like the entryway to a luxurious residential space. Leaves and stems decorated its curving frame, and Elven runes glittered like silver light dancing on water. The thin pirate held up his key ring and found a thick silver key that resembled the shape of an elvish rune. Gus had seen the rune before but did not comprehend its meaning. The pirate slotted the silver key into the door and delivered three swift knocks to its wood. The door swung open.
The captain of the ship stood at the center of a well-lit room, smiling. “Come in.” He waved them over.
The escort led them into a living chamber containing a finely carved desk and cushioned chair, a feather bed, and a wardrobe. Trinkets and baubles sat on tables for display: a strange spherical mechanism encased in bronze framework, an elaborate crossbow with a cranking lever and a wheel of bolts attached, a table displaying various compasses with unique designs, a table for rare jewelry, and a case front and center on the desk presenting a row of foreign coins. Captain Inigo took a seat behind his desk. “You may go.”
“Aye,” the woman said. She glared at the captives before exiting, followed by her thin companion, who pulled the door shut.
Inigo leaned back in his chair and threw his feet up on his desk. Footsteps approached from behind. A tall man with close-trimmed black hair, wearing a fur-lined jacket and baggy wool pants, walked across the room and stood next to the captain. The men stared at the trio. “Well?” Inigo asked.
“He travels with two dwarves,” the tall man said. “And carries a sword embedded with a black gem.” Silver streaked through the air. The black-haired man held Ninathril out before him, then set it on the captain’s desk. “It must be him.”
An agent of the Imperial Order?
The captain laughed. “I told you, my friend. Fortune favors me! We should change course. I will take you to the coast. Then, you can see that the sword is delivered to its rightful owner. I will miss my most capable First Mate, but this is an urgent matter, wouldn’t you agree? Don’t you forget you’re dear Captain Inigo! And how much he’s done for your friends.”
“Quiet,” the first mate said. Captain Inigo rolled his eyes, lulled his head to the side, and looked up at his supposed inferior. An icy stare met his. “They travel with a woman. Where is she?”
“Hm—hm,” Skiggi cleared his throat. “Do we get to speak for ourselves?”
“There’s one woman on this ship,” Inigo said. “And she’s been on for eight years. None were taken. The woman you spoke of must have lept into the sea.” The captain lifted a round-bowled pipe, inlaid with ivory, from his desk and clenched it between his teeth. “Mark my words.” He picked up a little metal cylinder and struck up a flame with his thumb, then lit his pipe. He puffed a cloud of smoke that drifted to the ceiling. “Now, back to the matter of the slaves and the sword.” He smiled.
“The sword is only a part of the equation.” The first mate approached their captives. “He had many relics. Trinkets that could help someone hide themselves upon a ship.” Cold, lifeless eyes peered through Gus. “Where is she?”
“Who?” Gus asked.
“My wife is the only woman in my life, you ninny.” Skiggi chuckled. “And if you lay one hand on my friend here, I’ll have to break every bone in your body! You hear me?” Dori moved closer to her husband.
The first mate kept his gaze fixed on Gus. “You don’t want to speak? Not even if it means saving your little friends? Should I flay them? Hang them from the mast and let the sun dry out their muscles; let the gulls pick out their innards?” He looked over his shoulder. “Sweep the ship. I want to speak with our captives in private.”
Captain Inigo sighed, smoke streaming from his mouth and nostrils, then sat his pipe on the desk and removed his feet from its top. He stood. “Don’t make a mess. This is where I sleep.” Inigo left the room.
Gus peered into two pools of black ringed by crystalline blue. “We’ve never met,” the agent said. Gus didn’t respond to his prod. “I should call you my brother, but because of recent events, that would no longer be the case.” A sharp knee found Gus’ sternum, knocking the wind out of his lungs and dropping him to his knees. Skiggi stepped forward but a foot met his broad face. The dwarf tumbled backward into his wife, toppling them both. The first mate pressed the same foot into Gus’ throat. “You thought you could run forever? That you could hide?” Gus tried to work his dagger out of his sleeve, but his iron shackles trapped Animiki’s Talon between the fur lining of his coat and his forearm. “Where is she?” The agent roared.
A thin silver blade pierced the agent’s chest with a wet hiss. The faux first mate grunted, fell to his knees, and spoke his last word—an unintelligible moan. The cloak of invisibility fell to the floor in a bundle of gray. Rose stood over the body. “Right here!”
Augustus coughed. He reached for his throat as he rolled over onto his stomach and found his feet. “Not yet!” He croaked.
“What?” Rose tilted her head to the side. “How about thank you?”
Dori and Skiggi picked themselves up off the floor, and then Dori brushed her husband clean of dust. “Are you okay, Gus?” Skiggi asked. Augustus nodded, still clasping his throat. Skiggi stepped over the dead body and began rummaging through the captain’s desk. “What took you so long, Rose?”
“I had to wait for the right moment,” Rose said.
You were impatient, Gus wanted to say. But your heart was in the right place. He closed his eyes and breathed, ignoring the pain.
I don’t taste blood.
Skiggi pulled every drawer, dug through their contents, and then slammed them shut. He abandoned the desk and searched the bedside table, then the wardrobe. “There’s got to be a key somewhere!”
“The thin man,” Gus croaked. He walked over to Rose and extended his hands toward her. “Cut the right sleeve.”
“A magic trick?” Rose lifted the Retaliating Rapier and sliced the hide and fur with its needle-like point. Gus jiggled his arm. Animiki’s Talon fell through the hole in his sleeve and bounced off the floor. He picked up the dagger. “I’m impressed.”
Augustus moved over to Skiggi and Dori. “Hold still.”
He pierced his thumb with the pointed pommel of his dagger. Blood pooled upon his skin, sinking into the rune-engraved talon. Silver steel sang to life, glowing blue, casting a radiant hue upon the cabin. Electrified silverite sliced through the dwarves’ chains with ease. Skiggi and Dori laughed. They exchanged a quick embrace. “Good work!” Skiggi reached eager hands for Ninathril, but Gus stopped him, extending Animiki’s Talon instead. “Elvish magic doesn’t agree with dwarves.” He scratched his furry cheek. “No, I don’t think so, Gus. Lay your arms across the desk, and I’ll give that sword a swing.”
“That’s like asking a boat to fly,” Dori said. Her hands glided over Captain Inigo’s collection of foreign coins displayed on his desk.
“Don’t touch anything,” Gus managed, though hoarse. He swallowed a pit of pain, stepped over to Rose, and offered her the bone-handled dagger. “Cut my chains. Prick your thumb on the pommel. Hold to stabilize the current. Release to release the current—simple.”
Rose sheathed the Retaliating Rapier and took Animiki’s Talon from Gus. She winced in pain but maintained her bloody connection to the enchanted dagger. She sliced through his shackle’s chains. Then Rose removed her thumb, and the electric energy dissipated into the blade. “A stable current will harmonize with the silverite and be absorbed,” a wise mage had once explained. “At least we can move our hands independently.”
“Do you have a plan?” Rose asked.
Three knocks echoed from the door to the captain’s cabin. It swung open. “We’re gathering—” Captain Inigo stood in the doorway, staring at the corpse of his first mate. Gus lowered Ninathril’s long blade, tapping the captain’s shoulder. “You?”
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“Come in,” Gus said as he grabbed a handful of Inigo’s shirt collar and tugged. Inigo stumbled inside. Skiggi slammed the door shut behind them.
“Let me go!” Captain Inigo tried to wrestle free of Gus’ grip, but Skiggi tackled the man from behind and grappled him into submission, twisting his arms behind his back. “Okay! Okay!” Thumps and thuds bounced off the door. Pirates shouted and cursed as they tried to break through the magic woven wood. “Stop, damn you!”
“I have the keys! Look! They’re right here!” Dori ran to them. “He dropped ‘em when you grabbed him!” Dori picked through the keys, shoved them into the keyhole on her shackles, then moved to the next, until finally finding the match. She unlocked her shackles, allowing the iron bracelets to fall with two loud clanks. She unlocked Gus’, then her husband’s. “What’s next?”
Captain Inigo chortled. “Yes, what next? What do you think you’re going to do with me? Take me hostage?” He laughed. “My crew has more reason to cut my throat than you will ever have.”
“That complicates things,” Skiggi, who straddled Inigo’s back, said.
“We’ll see about that.” Gus moved over to the captain’s wardrobe and pulled out a shirt. He threw it to Skiggi. “Blind him.” Gus picked up the repeating crossbow from its display table and handed it to Dori. “Do you know how to work this thing?”
Dori’s eyes gleamed with childlike wonder as she traded the key ring for the mechanized bow. “It certainly looks dwarven.”
Gus held out the key ring. Rose took it, then spun, becoming invisible behind the elf-woven cloak. “Okay. Stand up!” Skiggi got to his feet and helped the bruised and blinded Inigo pry himself from the floor. “Let’s see how loyal your crew truly is.”
The thick door jarred in its steel frame, but it did not budge. The magic must reinforce it. Gus stepped closer. “We have your captain! We’re armed!” The door stood still. Shouts turned to muffled murmurs resonating through the wood. “Unlock it.” The keys jingled. The locking mechanism fell free with a metallic clang. “Open it.” The door swung open. A gang of pirates stood beyond the doorway with wicked smiles on their faces. Gus rested Ninathril’s point on Inigo’s shoulder. “Have you come to bargain?”
The burly woman stepped into the room. “How about we start killing your people, and you start killing ours? We’ll see who runs out first.”
“I told you,” Inigo said.
“We just need a small vessel for me and my two friends here,” Gus pleaded. “If we don’t get it…” He lifted Ninathril high over Inigo’s head. “Your captain is dead.”
The pirates laughed. The thin key bearer pushed his way into the room. “I call the feather bed!”
“I don’t think they came to bargain,” Skiggi said.
“This is foolish,” Inigo said. “Put your weapons down.” Dori raised her crossbow higher, aiming down a bronze-beaded sight, gripping it tight. “Look, if you put your weapons down now, I may convince the others to allow you to live.”
Gus shared a knowing look with Skiggi and Dori. “Sorry, but we have the leverage. You see, what you and your crew don’t know is that, right now, our friend—the woman you’ve been looking for—is on this ship. This woman is an elf. And she knows a thing or two about magic, specifically fire magic. She rigged your stores of powder. Should anything happen to us, this ship will be blown sky-high, with everyone on it. But first, Captain, you will lose your head.” The pirates did not laugh.
“You’re bluffing,” Inigo said.
“We’re not going back to the mines.” Dori’s trigger finger trembled. “Never again.”
“Yes!” Skiggi beat his chest with fists the size of cabbage heads. “I’ll rip your tongues out with my teeth, you ugly bastards!”
“We’re not interested in treading the same water,” Gus said.
“Okay, okay.” Inigo chuckled. “You are much more persuasive than your former captain. Perhaps you’d make a better captain, eh?” He looked over his shoulder with eyes wrapped in brown cloth. “If I set you free, do you promise to spare my ship and my crew?”
Gus nodded. “I do.”
Inigo turned blind eyes toward his crew waiting at the door. “Frieda, make sure a lifeboat is prepared for our friends.” The burly pirate exchanged a wide-eyed look with her counterparts. “Quickly, now! And be thorough!”
‘Be thorough’ sounds like doublespeak for searching every nook and cranny of this ship.
The woman growled as she pushed her way through the crowded pirates waiting to rush in. “Back to your posts!” Inigo shouted. “Who’s watching our prisoners?” The pirates slowly melted away. “You’re a smart man.” Inigo laughed. “They don’t care about their poor captain, but their own skin? Franz—the man you killed—told me pieces of your story. You have very powerful enemies. They say a man is measured not by his friends but by his enemies. That makes you a mighty man, eh?”
“Shut up.” Gus slammed the door back into its frame. He sheathed Ninathril, then leaned against the edge of Inigo’s desk. Can Rose remain hidden until the right moment? Dori rested the crossbow on the desk but kept it pointed at the door. Skiggi browsed through Inigo’s collection of novelties and trinkets.
“Not much on conversation?” Inigo asked. “I understand, given the circumstances, but perhaps we could come to a better understanding.”
“Shut up,” Gus said.
The captain pursed his lips. “I do hope your friend doesn’t light the fuse before we’ve explored all routes of negotiation,” Inigo said. “I love my ship. That door was very expensive, you know? Courtesies of my first mate and his friends, whom you seem at odds with. They are not my friends, though. So, let us abandon our game for a time and speak plainly: you don’t have anyone rigging my ship with explosives. And I don’t have any reason beyond saving my skin to keep playing along. What if we came to an understanding–an agreement?”
“Shut up.” Gus stood. He walked to an open window at the back of the ship, overlooking churning waves, watching them turn to bubbles and froth, then meld into the blue depths. How long before everyone thinks like their dear captain?
Storm clouds rolled in from the northwest. Gus couldn’t see beyond the wall of the cabin but listened to the pirates scrambling outside, their boots thumping against the roof. “How will you bargain with my men when they realize you’re bluffing?” Inigo questioned. Gus didn’t respond. “Let me help you. We’re in this together now.”
“Would you please shut it?” Dori’s head thumped against the desk.
“I’m more useful alive,” the captain explained. “My men will lose their respect for me after this debacle. I’ll have a mutiny on my hands.”
An uproar swelled below the floorboards: shouting, cursing, thumping and thudding. Rose must have unlocked the cells! Footfalls scurried across the roof. Battle cries mingled with the songs of the sea and howling winds. Gus drew his sword.
“What’s happening?” Inigo asked.
“A mutiny,” Gus said. He stalked across the room and opened the magic-infused door.
A gang of pirates formed a shield wall at the top of the stairwell, pushing back the surging smugglers led by Deacon and the Accardi twins. On the deck, Theo, Federico, and four others fought desperately with shivs, stolen weapons, or their bare hands. “Skiggi, don’t let him leave! Dori, cover me!” Gus shouted. He ran. Ninathril sliced through a pirate’s leg. Gus spun and sunk his sword into another’s ribcage. Upon seeing Gus, the smugglers fought harder, pushing their captives back. Augustus parried a spearhead and sidestepped a sword point. Bolts zipped past. Half a dozen marksmen leaned over the yardarms, out of the smugglers’ reach. A spray of bolts knocked two men from their perch.
“I got ‘em!” Dori yelled just as a bolt lodged itself into the rune-engraved door frame a few inches from her face. Dori ducked inside.
“Come on!” Gus shouted at the smugglers. “Do you want to live as slaves or die as free men?” He carved a path with Ninathril, then crashed into the gang guarding the stairwell.
A mad melee ensued. Silver steel flashed, and red blood splattered, staining everything it touched. The burly woman, face burning red with rage and splattered with blood, charged Gus with her ax raised high. She released a mighty battle cry but fell short with a crossbow bolt in her forehead. Marksmen tumbled from the sky, smashing into the deck. Rose jabbed and lashed with the Retaliating Rapier—untrained but vicious. Deacon and his first mate, Federico, fought side by side in the vanguard. Their captors wilted. The smugglers, led by Gus, bottled the pirates up at the prow, where a second castle stood as their citadel. Victory remained uncertain. “What do we do about the other ship?” Rose asked, standing beside Gus with a bloody rapier in one hand and a broken wine bottle in the other. Gus walked to the starboard side. The sails of the second pirate ship caught in the wind. It was moving. Soon, they’d try to board, and the smugglers—hopelessly outnumbered—would be crushed. As punishment, most would face death by some gruesome method only pirates could imagine. The adrenaline drained from his veins. His mind cleared.
Gus turned to Rose. “Do you think you can handle things up here?”
Rose looked at the beaten and battered pirates, who formed a defensive line. “Are you sure about this, Gus?”
“Where’s my cloak?” Gus asked as he sheathed Ninathril. Rose opened the folds of her fur coat and pulled out a length of soft gray fabric. She handed it to Gus, who aired it out, causing it to snap like a whip, then threw the gray cloak over his shoulders. “Let the others know our plan. Don’t lose the ship!” Gus spirited down the steps. Past the cells, he found Deacon’s stolen fire powder stored in a room directly beneath the stern castle. Gus found a discarded ladle and dipped out spoonfuls of the volatile grains, pouring a line from the barrels to the stairwell.
He ascended. The last of the pirates were bound, forced into a lifeboat, and lowered into the water. Smugglers threw fancy furniture and crates of cargo overboard. With their sails released, the ship rocked, lurched, and began moving. Deacon approached. “This is a madman’s plan! I like it!”
“Make sure your men are off the ship before we make contact!” Gus shouted over the din of their frantic crew. “We must convince them we’re making a run for it!” He pointed to the prow of the ship. “Tear that down!” Deacon snarled as he dug a rusty ax into a plank and ripped it free from the stern castle. Federico threw the scraps overboard. Gus found their young lookout holding a saber in two hands, leaning against the mast, drenched in sweat and blood. “Are you okay?” Gus asked.
Theo, panting from exhaustion, looked up at him. “I think so.”
“Good,” Gus said. “I need your help. Climb the mast and, when the enemy reveals where they plan to broadside, shout to us below deck. Okay?” Theo nodded. “Move!” The young man sprinted. “You and you!” Gus pointed at the Accardi brothers. “Man the guns! Come on!” Gus and his burly companions went below, loaded the canons, and opened the gun ports as footsteps thundered overhead. Deacon and his first mate shouted commands to their crew. Hammers, harpoons, and coils of rope rained down from above, zipping past the open ports and splashing into the sea. We’re going to need a miracle.
The footsteps and the shouting ceased. Their commandeered vessel creaked and moaned as if its hull wanted to crumble. The sea churned outside. The wind howled.
They waited.
The lookout’s shrill voice filled the hull. “Starboard side!”
“After the last shot, dive over the port side,” Gus explained. They moved to starboard and manned their guns. “Wait for my signal!” Crossbows thrummed. Harpoons and spears thumped against the hull and decking overhead. Smugglers and pirates shouted. Their last lifeboat tumbled overboard. Men leaped into the sea, abandoning ship and their hopeless cause. Their enemy’s prow came into view, sliding past the first gun port, the second, and the third. “Fire!”
Canons thundered in unison. Planks shook beneath his feet, and lanterns rattled on their hooks. “Go!” Gus cried. His ears rang.
They ran. Return fire ripped through the wood behind them, sending sprays of splinters into the air, which peppered them as they sprinted through the living quarters and up the stairs. Gus stopped to strike a flint and ignite the trail of firepowder. Sparks streaked across the floor. He climbed into the crisp winter air as their enemy attempted to board. They threw grappling hooks and swung across the watery gap on ropes, so Gus spun, becoming invisible and releasing a gale upon men swinging through the air, causing them to fall into the sea.
The Accardi twins jumped overboard.
Using his magic cloak, Gus jumped onto the yardarm and shoved off as hard as he could, soaring into the air. A giant cannon erupted. The air quaked. Gus tumbled at breakneck speed, propelled by the explosion. He plunged into cold depths. He kicked his legs and flailed his arms, but his sea-soaked cloak tangled his limbs. Gus pulled at the elf-woven fabric. It clung to him as if stitched into his skin. His muscles stiffened, his lungs burned, and his vision blackened. He found birth. A hand grasped the collar of his cloak. Gus drew in a lungful of air. “I’ve got you!” A familiar voice cried. “I’ve got you!” Gus found himself plucked out of the sea and dragged into a boat surrounded by angry men. The tremendous wooden wall of a caravel’s hull loomed over them, casting a tall shadow—no—a trail of smoke! His mind stitched the pieces together: He’d flown over their enemy’s boat and landed in the sea. He’d nearly drowned. Gus coughed. “Come on!” Captain Deacon clung to the side of their enemy’s vessel, shouting over his shoulder. “We’ve got them cornered!” Smugglers crawled through open gun ports or climbed over the high railing, dodging missiles and falling objects. “They want to enslave you! Fight! Fight!”
Augustus tried to stand, but Rose grabbed the back of his cloak and pulled him down. “Where are you going?”
“To fight,” Gus said.
“You’re in no shape to fight,” Rose said. “You can barely stand!”
Gus forced himself onto shaky legs and wobbly knees. The sea disagreed with him, which did not help his case. “They need us!” Gus grabbed a hold of a grappling hook’s rope. “Come on!” He climbed.
Gus slipped into an open gun port. The ship’s belly swelled with pirates and smugglers jabbing and slashing, spilling blood, pummeling and strangling each other as they rolled across the deck. Iron cells stood empty. Is my plan going to work? A line of smugglers contained four defenders in the stern, where smoke filled the hull. Where there’s smoke, there’s fire! Toward the prow, the Accardi brothers cut their way to a stairwell. It looks like we almost control the lower deck, but if we don’t put out those fires, then we’re all dead, anyway! Gus ran to the stairwell. He drew Ninathril and joined the fray, helping the smugglers push the defenders up the stairs. Flames spread across the stern and singed their sails, which now contained many holes. Men who didn’t commit to battle carried pails of water and fought fire. Meanwhile, the burning wreckage of their abandoned vessel shrunk away into the distance, sinking.
At least this thing can still move.
Skiggi barreled into a group of men. All four toppled over. The mad dwarf was the first to his feet, so he made quick work of his opponents, hacking with a hatchet and hammering with a maul. “Slavers!”
The battle raged until sundown. Eight pirates survived the slaughter, surrendering themselves to captivity in the cells below deck. Fire damage was minimal. By some miracle, Gus’ plan had worked, but many lost their lives. No one wanted to say it, but any sailor knew that a dozen men and three untrained passengers couldn’t properly operate a full-sized caravel—not accounting for extensive repairs to keep them afloat and on course. There was little hope. Captain Deacon, who once lost a cog, now gained a caravel. He stood at the prow with Gus. “We got lucky,” Deacon said. “Skiggi thinks he’ll have the sails operational by noon tomorrow, but maybe you can hurry him along? Knowing Inigo and his men are still floating around out there doesn’t sit well with me.”
“Nor me,” Gus said. He leaned against the railing.
“Your friends are an odd bunch,” Deacon said. “They don’t fight like a troupe of performers.” Gus grinned. The captain turned and wrapped his hands around the rails of his new ship, looking up into the sky. “You’re not a Milanese man. No. And Alessandro isn’t your real name. Your friends call you Gus.” The two locked eyes. Deacon smiled. “Don’t worry, I’m a smuggler!” He laughed, then smacked Gus’ shoulder. “I know plenty of men who use aliases while they work. It would be nice if I knew what to call you, though, eh?”
“You can call me Gus, too, if that’s easier.”
Deacon laughed again. “Well, Gus, you’ve proven yourself to be a damned fine sailor and a good leader, too. I’m glad to have you on my crew. If you decide to stay in this business, you’ll have a bright future!”
Augustus turned his gaze back to the sea and the western horizon, where dark triangular shapes jutted into the sky: the Titan’s Kiln and its mountainous obsidian children. I’m nearing Chios and the end of my quest. His hand gripped Ninathril’s pommel. What happens when my mission is done? Perhaps I could find a new life on the sea? The Milanis Straight stretched North and South, leading to an endless expanse of water that could carry one to the ends of the known world. Is this the freedom I’ve been searching for? Different shapes took form–black specks bobbed upon the northern horizon. Ships?
“You may even make first mate one day.” Deacon coughed. He rocked on his feet. “I don’t mean to—”
“Do you have a looking glass?” Gus asked.
Deacon’s eyes furrowed into confusion, but he reached into the folds of his fur-lined coat and pulled out a brass cylinder. “I nabbed it from Inigo.”
Gus took the looking glass and extended its sections into a long rod. He peered through it. Black specks turned into tiny white sails—hundreds of them. He could not see their flags. The Burgundian armada is blockading Pyrgos. Who are you? Gus lowered the glass and handed it to Captain Deacon. “I’m going to go speak to Skiggi about those sails.”
Deacon scratched his head. “What did you see?”
“An armada,” Gus said.
Deacon’s red face turned pale. He raised the looking glass and pressed it against his right eye’s socket. He froze. Deacon lowered the looking glass, collapsed it between his hands, and tucked it into his coat. “What are the odds?”