Page 96 of Captive of the Pirate King
Far away, at the edge of the horizon, there’s another ship—the Pirate King’s flagship vessel, theLichfell. It’s a black ship with bone-white masts and dark sails, rivaling even theArdentfor power and lethal beauty. That ship, temporarily captained by Cyprus, will come and pick us up after our confrontation with Mordan.
If we survive it.
We’ve been watching the storm for several hours now. We even witnessed a hapless merchant vessel being sucked into it, and although I wanted to help, there was nothing we could do. Vesser has all he can handle just to keep theRaven’s Frenzyfrom careening into the maelstrom. The bones of the ship are groaning, creaking under the pull of two opposing forces. I pray to Nehalennia that it will hold together long enough.
“A lull should be coming soon,” Locke murmurs. “When was the last one?”
From his other side, Hanschel answers. “About three hours ago, Cap’n.”
“When the next one comes, we’ll go in. Tell everyone.”
“Aye, sir.”
TheRaven’s Frenzyis carrying the smallest possible crew, because Locke doesn’t want to risk too many lives. Every man on deck is also a skilled fighter, hand-picked to help us subdue this threat. The ironic part is that none of them will get within striking distance of my brother unless he allows it. So it all comes down to me, and what I say to Mordan.
If it’s not Mordan behind this, Locke will have to come up with another plan, and fast.
I’ve been rehearsing what I might say to my brother, what arguments and turns of phrase I can use to open the conversation, to engage him, to calm him down. I’ve thought of childhood anecdotes I can employ to soften his heart. Years of manipulating and calming him helped me learn how his mind works—but does it still function the same way? So much could have happened to him in eight years.
Locke’s strong fingers curl around mine, and I look up at him, surprised.
“You’ll be all right,” he says. “I’ll take care of you.”
I want to protest, to announce that I can take care of myself—and that’s generally true—but here on the high seas, it’s never a bad idea to have a friend’s aid. And this particular friend of mine seems to have tied his happiness to my existence. I’m glad he has my back.
I squeeze his fingers, a wordless thanks.
At the same moment, the screaming thunder of the gale diminishes to a soft roar. The clouds slow their violent rotation, and the beams and boards of theRaven’s Frenzycease their groans.
“A lull in the storm!” Locke shouts. “Steady, men, we’re going in!”
Vesser glances back over his shoulder and nods. He eases whatever magical pressure he’s exerting, and theRaven’s Frenzyjerks forward. I nearly fly backward, but Locke catches me, wraps me against him with one powerful arm. A flash of memory—the day he held me against him while we swung ship-to-ship, from theWending Willowto theArdent.
How far we’ve come from Locke the sailor and the ragged cabin boy, to the Pirate King and his Queen-to-be.
Overhead, the sails snap and crack as they’re caught in the spiraling eddies of Mordan’s magic. Cold spray dashes my face, and I screw up my eyes against the sting of the salt. Though the storm has lessened in intensity, it’s not gone. Our ship is being buffeted, shoved this way and that by the gale, nudged ever closer to the central mass of cloud, the apex of the storm. I cling to Locke, my stomach pitching and rolling with every slant of the careening ship.
If this were a normal storm at sea, we’d be tethered to the ship with ropes. But in this case, with the peril that lies ahead, ropes would be a hazard, tying us to a broken, sinking vessel. So all I can do is cling to the railing while Locke grips me tight, and we sway together in a drunken, lethal dance.
TheRaven’s Frenzyis skidding sideways through the foam now, wind shrieking through the ropes. Closer to the dark billowing wall of cloud—closer—
The mainmast groans. There’s a sharp crack, and a ripping of sail.
“Eyes up and look lively!” Locke bellows. “Here she comes!”
The mast splits in two under the pressure, its top half splintering and cracking away, dragging down copious billows of sail and rope. Pirates scramble this way and that to get clear—but I can barely see through the mist and the wind, so I’m not sure if anyone was crushed. Locke and I stand with Hanschel near the front of the ship, while Dolomon mans the helm—not that any amount of steering will get us through this intact.
“Every man for himself, and we’ll gather on the shore if shore there be!” Locke roars. “It’s been an honor to sail with you! Mother Ocean guide—”
His final shout is swallowed by the hissing wind as theRaven’s Frenzyshoulders through the wall of whirling cloud.
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The wind hits me like a fist to the face. Lashes of cold water whip my skin. I’m soaked to the bone, blind and deafened, only conscious of the solid wood of the railing under my hands and Locke’s arm around my ribcage.
“Open your eyes, Nick!” He’s shouting, almost screaming in my ear. “We have to jump!”
Is he insane? If we jump, theRaven’s Frenzycould careen into us and bear us down beneath the sea—
