Page 94 of Vengeance of the Pirate Queen

This very second?

My current location.

I continue south, keeping my eyes straight ahead so as not to glimpse the undead hiding behind the trees. I’ve no reason to think Threydan will change his mind and drag me back prematurely. If he wanted me to do something, he would have kept me in that stone house he built so many years ago. It’s hard to imagine it still would have been standing all these years later. With dozens of undead at his command, I imagine he simply had everyone refortify and clean the place in a matter of hours.

The thought of sleeping in a bed made up by undead fingers has me gagging.

It must be midafternoon, and for the first time, I wonder just how long I slept. I do not think it was only one night. I had been pushed past the threshold of exhaustion again and again. My body quit on its own. Fell asleep in that immortal man’s arms. I never would have allowed that otherwise.

And how long did he carry me before reaching this place? We could be days away from my crew’s camp for all I know.

But there is nothing to do except keep walking.

So I keep on.

THETERRAINALLLOOKSthe same.

White everywhere.

Though, I do pause when I find a frozen waterfall, the water turned to icicles clinging to the cliffside. When the sun hits it, I have to blink for the brightness.

It’s a single image of beauty. A reminder that not everything is dark and forlorn right now.

I scale the cliffside, taking a route to the right of the waterfall. It is harder than it looks, but I don’t fall. Only slip a few times. Good thing the cold doesn’t affect my grip on the rocks.

When I reach the top, I see something through a break in the trees. Someone standing just as still as any trunk.

I have a present for you.

Oh, what has he made his undead do now?

I try to decide the best approach to take. Head-on? Roundabout? Nothing matters anymore, though it feels that it should.

When a sound cuts through the trees, I halt in place.

Shouting.

Shouting in Islander.

I can’t make out the words, but I’m certain of the accent. I can’t have reached my crew already. This terrain isn’t familiar yet … unless they’ve happened to move camp closer to Threydan?

I move closer.

From within the cover of the trees, I spot a clearing, where the shouting grows the loudest.

I do not recognize the people before me.

I note fifteen of them, wrapped in furs and deprived of weapons. Some are in bad shape with arms in slings or bandages on their heads. Too thin and haggard from not enough nourishment. I recognize not a soul among them, but I know immediately who they must be.

The crew of theWanderer.

And they’re being herded by the undead, forced to come straight in my direction.

Chapter 19

THERE’S AT LEASTTENundead for every single Islander. They surround the crew of theWanderer, blocking them in a fence made of undead clutching one another’s arms. They move as one unit, seamlessly forcing the living to keep pace or be trampled underfoot.

I watch one of the larger men try to punch the closest undead. It does nothing, of course, just results in more shouting from his crew.

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