Page 102 of Blow Me Down
But it doesn’t diminish my glory…
—Ibid, Act I
I grabbed Bas by his good arm and followed the men down the hill toward the town, swearing like mad to myself as we stumbled and slipped on rocks.
Another blast rocked the island, this time slightly more distant. A huge fireball lit the night sky, illuminating for a few seconds the far arm of the harbor, where one of the makeshift forts was located.
“We’re bein‘ attacked?” Bas asked as we raced down the hill as fast as we could.
“Yes. Those were the big land guns going. Bart must have rigged them to blow up so we couldn’t use them to defend ourselves,” I answered in between ragged gasps for air.
“Why is Bart attackin‘ us?” he asked. I glared at him for a moment, annoyed that the little wretch didn’t seem to be the least bit winded.
“He’s a rotter, that’s why. Corbin? What are we going to do about the fire?” I yelled, waving a hand behind us.
He answered something that I didn’t hear—he was too far ahead. But I gathered by the way everyone abandoned the firebreak that the most pressing concern was the attack by water, assuming that was coming next. And it made sense that an attack would follow now that the town’s defenses had just been knocked out to almost nothing.
“There are still our ships, though,” I argued to myself, pain ripping through my side as my bruised ribs tried to cope with the unexpected activity.
“But no one to sail them,” Holder said, slowing down so he could run next to us. “I swear I’m going to gut Paul when I get out of this game. The whole crew is out cold, every last Jack of them.”
I stumbled, almost going to my knees, my heart sick with dread. Holder and Bas grabbed me to keep me from falling. “What are we going to do?” I asked Holder, tears burning my already red eyes. “How are we supposed to fight Bart with no crew?”
His jaw tightened as he tugged me forward. “You underestimate Corbin, Amy.
You’ve never seen him in battle, have you?”
“Not really, just a bit before he shot up my ship,” I said, miserable, wanting to just curl up in a ball and pretend none of this was happening.
“He’s meant to be a pirate, he truly is,” Holder said, his hand locked around my wrist, keeping me moving toward the town. We were at the outskirts now, and below us, voices were calling out in horrified confusion, the town already lighting up as people were dragged from sleep by the explosion of the guns.
“He’s a wild man behind the wheel of a ship. A brilliant tactician, merciless and exacting. Even down a crew, with nothing but a few townspeople to man his ship, he’ll take down Paul—or die trying.”
“It’s the ‘die trying’ part I object to,” I called as Holder released me and ran forward to meet up with Corbin, who was holding court in the middle of town.
Men and women in various states of undress were gathering around him, all of them shouting and calling out for answers to their questions.
“I’ll answer your questions later,” Corbin yelled. “Right now, we have work to do!”
Most of the people quieted down, circling Corbin as he stood on the lip of the well, looking so heroic that my heart would have burst with love for him if our demise wasn’t so likely at any moment.
“Bart is attacking the town. It’s clear he’ll show no quarter, so if you want to save your families and homes, listen up. We need as many hands as we can get to battle him.”
“Why would Bart attack us?” someone called out.
“It’s me he wants to destroy—but he’ll take this whole island down in order to do it.”
“What about the shore guns?” the mayor asked, tugging at a frilly male version of a nightgown. “We were assured those would take care of any attacker.”
“Assured by the same man who just blew them up so they couldn’t be used against him,” Corbin said. “We’re going to need to split people into two teams: one to sail with me, one to fight the—”
“Fire!” someone shrieked, piercing the night. Everyone turned to look where the woman pointed up the hill. The fire hadn’t been visible from the town before, but now, left to run unchecked, it had swept past the governor’s house, flames visibly licking up the sides of the big house. I felt a moment of sadness for the loss of such a nice home, but knew that it was a loss the islanders could well survive— which couldn’t be said for their town.
I have to say this for Corbin’s friend who designed the AI used in the game—it was nigh on impossible to tell from real people. The townspeople, upon seeing the red glow of fire heading toward them, didn’t freeze or ignore it or even get organized—no, they ran around like Bas’s headless chickens, screaming, wailing, demanding that Corbin save them, and generally behaving just as a group of real people would have. Luckily, Corbin was well aware of their makeup, and after yelling for attention, he finally fired a shot into the air to get people to stop acting like idiots.
“That’s better,” he yelled, tucking his pistol back into his sword belt. “If you want to survive this, listen up…”
He started detailing a plan whereby half the town would gather up supplies to set firebreaks just beyond the church. The other half—men and women who had even the slightest bit of sailing experience—would go with him to the ships, in order to tackle what was sure to be an attack by water.
