He took the cloth from his assistant, shoved it in the aperture just behind the powder chamber, and lit a spark which took to the small scrap of cloth immediately. He figured he had maybe fifteen seconds. Just enough time.
He thrust his head over the bulwark and pointed a finger in the direction of the furious men rowing towards him. ‘I’m Davarus Cole,’ he shouted down at them. ‘You made a mistake when you signed up for this life of villainy. At least you can go to your deaths knowing you were slain by the best-’
‘You forgot to swab the barrel!’ the sailor beside him hissed. He looked down.
The fuse was halfway burned when the cannon went off. The force caused Cole’s head to strike the bulwark and he came close to pitching over the side. The iron shot splashed harmlessly into the sea a dozen feet to the right of the rowing boat.
He looked around wildly, hoping nobody had witnessed his blunder. Everyone had. His head throbbed.
‘Pass me more cloth,’ he spat into the grinning face of the sailor.
This time everything went as planned. He cleaned the barrel, loaded the shot, lit the fuse and lined up his target. The soldiers were within fifty yards of the carrack when the cannon fired, sending its projectile whistling into the side of the boat. There was an explosion of timber and water and flailing bodies. Screams filled the air.
A loud cheer went up on the Redemption. Cole straightened and then stared out at the carnage. He froze. A moment ago he had faced a dozen men. Men with families, hopes and dreams. Now there was nothing but driftwood and a few corpses bobbing just below the surface of the sea.
His face split into a wide grin. ‘Let that be a lesson to them!’ he yelled, spinning around and pumping a fist in the air at the men celebrating on deck. He swaggered down to join them, savouring each slap on the back and happy smile as his new comrades gave him a hero’s reception. Life had never felt so good.
‘You did well, kid. You did well,’ Three-Finger said.
He puffed out his chest. ‘The name’s Davarus Cole. I told you that already.’ He sauntered over to where Soeman was shivering on the deck and hauled him up. ‘Look at that,’ he said to the engineer, gesturing at the setting sun and the dark water that stretched out across the horizon. ‘This is ours. All of it. We’re free men now.’
Soeman sniffed and then coughed. Despite the blood at the edges of his mouth, he smiled. ‘I can’t believe your plan worked. I admit, I thought it sounded crazy. You’re a hero.’
‘Yes,’ Cole said quietly. ‘I am.’
They stood together in silence for a time, watching the sun bid its final farewell. The last of the light faded. Soeman suddenly twitched and let out a faint gasp.
Cole shook his head. ‘Your chest is getting worse. I thought the saltwater might have done you some good.’
There was no response. He looked at the engineer. Something was sticking out of the back of his head. He reached across and touched it.
A quarrel.
Soeman fell flat on his face. He didn’t move.
There was a rustling sound above him and a dark shadow soared into view. Cole squinted up at the figure. It looked like a man…
Falcus! The Augmentor had survived the capsizing of the boat. His cloak billowed around him, glowing faintly in the night sky. He held a crossbow in one hand — and it was pointing at Cole.
Cole threw himself to the deck, shouting wildly to get the attention of the rest of the crew. One of the men ran over and levelled his crossbow at the soaring figure above them. He pulled the trigger, but the bolt missed. The Augmentor circled them, dipped low and then flew by barely a dozen feet away, taking aim with his weapon. There was a thunk, and the fellow beside Cole dropped to the deck, a quarrel protruding from his chest.
The young Shard turned and ran. He made it to the safety of the crowd that had gathered near the mainmast. Most still had no idea what was happening. ‘Get down!’ he yelled. One of the former prisoners was slow to react and ended up with a bolt quivering in his throat.
He felt at his belt for Magebane. This time he found the knife the sailor had lent to him. Falcus was preparing for another deadly pass. He tensed.
The Augmentor plummeted down out of the sky, arcing directly towards him. He waited until the last instant and threw the knife, aiming for the man’s chest. It missed but snagged his cloak, cutting a large gash in the fabric.
Falcus cursed. Suddenly he was out of control, spinning wildly in the air. He crashed into the mainmast with a sickening thud and slid down it.
Three-Finger was on the fallen man in an instant, his hatchet taking chunks out of the dazed Augmentor. Within seconds it was all over. Three-Finger continued to hack away, dismembering the corpse and then tossing the parts overboard.
Cole got to his feet. They had lost three men, including Soeman. Jack was badly hurt too. He felt a sudden fury at his absolute triumph being sullied by the deaths of several of his crew — especially Soeman whom he had worked so hard to save from drowning. It just didn’t seem fair.
Suddenly the air seemed to throb around him. He halted, staring around in shock, and then almost retched. A foul stench assaulted his nostrils. It smelled like a corpse left out in the sun, and it was overpowering, as if whatever was creating the smell was huge. All over the ship, men were leaning over and heaving onto the deck.
A roaring filled his ears and Cole staggered. The sea began to shimmer, so brightly it made his eyes water and forced him to look away. He opened his mouth to ask what was happening — but sudden, intense pressure stole his words away and cold water forced its way down his throat. He flailed wildly, hopelessly disorientated and surrounded on all sides by crushing water. The deck beneath his feet had disappeared; he was being dragged downwards. Ever downwards.
Darkness swallowed him.
‘He will live.’
The words seemed to float into his ears from a long way away. He tasted bile and salt. His body shivered uncontrollably.
‘Open your eyes.’
He did as he was ordered and stared up into the face of a beautiful woman. Her skin seemed almost supernaturally pale, but perhaps that was a trick of the moon behind her. There was something queer about her eyes. His own eyes felt full of grit, and he rubbed at them with salt-wrinkled hands.
‘Where am I?’ he asked.
‘On The Lady’s Luck,’ the woman replied. ‘The Swell almost claimed you. Your ship was lost, as were most of her men.’
‘The Lady’s Luck?’ Cole noticed there were others near them, a crew of both men and women who glanced at him curiously.
‘The flagship of Thelassa’s fleet. We had orders to sink your carrack and the old cog trailing behind her.’ His rescuer looked down at him without expression. ‘The Swell saved us the bother.’
The Swell. Cole shivered again. He had come within a whisker of being yet another victim of the Lord of the Deep’s undying wrath. ‘What now?’ he asked.
The woman’s strange eyes narrowed on him. ‘War is imminent between our two cities. We sail to Thelassa.’
‘We?’ Cole managed.
‘Yes. You are our prisoner. The White Lady will have a great many questions for you.’
The Gathering Storm
His eyelids flickered open and the world shifted into focus. He was lying flat on his back, staring up at a huge grey cloud looming directly overhead. A gust of wind pushed at his hair, ruffled the growth of beard he felt bristling upon his neck. He tried to move his body, grunted at the sudden sharp pain in his midriff.
He felt weak. Weak and half-starved. Memories rushed back to him. The collapse of the mine. The fight with the baby-faced Augmentor and his belt of knives. Cold steel slipping inside his stomach. Waking in sweat-drenched fever, swallowing desperately from a waterskin shoved halfway down his throat before the blackness took him again.