The Colour of Vengeance (31 page)

“Well…”

“Damnit!” the captain raised his voice to a shout. “Pull in the sails! Get our speed down. Bastards are burning ships. Now! Or I’ll drown you all like the dogs you are.”

“Captain…” Betrim started again.

“Pull her to starboard. I want to be ready to run.”

The ship gave a sudden lurch to the right and Betrim almost lost his footing, would have if not for Bones putting a big hand on his shoulder to steady him. Chade began to move to the left as the ship turned.

“Ya mind tellin’ me what’s happenin’?” Betrim asked the captain. “Why the hell are they burnin’ ships in port?”

“You don’t know? Figured that was why you’re headed here after that business in Solantis.”

“Ya heard ‘bout that?” Betrim asked.

The captain sighed. “Lad, everyone has heard of Solantis. City of Mercs don’t have a single mercenary in it no more. Death sentence for any that set foot inside the walls. For months mercs like you have been flocking to Chade any way they can.”

“Why?”

“Because two of the folk that rule this place have started tearing strips off each other and are willing to hire anyone with a price to do it,” the captain said with a sigh

Betrim looked at Bones and again the big man shrugged. He glanced across the deck to see Henry and Anders had emerged from below deck and were making to join them at the front of the ship. Anders stopped to point at the docks and the ship burning there. Joan and Ben were already standing at the railing and watching.

“What’s happenin’?” Henry asked.

The captain let out a low growl. “Tell your people to get below deck. Last thing we need is a bunch of land-loving thugs getting in the way of my honest sailors.”

“Ship-ahoy,” shouted the sailor at the top of the mast.

“Where?” the captain shouted back.

“Aft.”

The captain started limping across the forecastle, dropping nimbly down to the quarterdeck and quickly pulling himself up the ladder to the poop deck. Betrim followed the man all the way despite the annoyed glances. At the stern of the ship he pulled the eye device from his belt again and stared through it.

Henry stepped up beside Betrim and gave him a nudge to let him know she was there. He shrugged back at her and waited for the captain to speak.

“I don’t see any colours,” the captain called out.

“She ain’t flyin’ none, Cap’n,” the sailor in the nest shouted back.

For a long time the captain stood motionless, staring through his device while alternating between sucking at his teeth and clicking his tongue. Eventually he seemed to make a decision, crossing to the wheel and taking control from the sailor stationed there.

“Pile on sail. Let’s get some speed up. See if she’s for us or for port,” the captain shouted to the crew and sailors began scurrying around the deck and the rigging. Betrim watched in wonder at the apparent organisation appearing from what had before seemed like lazy chaos.

“Anythin’ we can do?” Henry asked.

The captain glared at her for a moment then spoke to Betrim. “Keep out of the way… but be ready.”

“Ready fer what?” Betrim asked. The captain didn’t reply.

The ship started moving again, slowly building speed, slipping through the calm waters. For a long time the agonising wait was more than Betrim could bear. Knowing they were safe would be good, knowing they might be in for a fight would be bad but knowing anything was better than standing around waiting. The captain didn’t try to shoo them away again but neither did he seem like talking to them. The whole situation was making Betrim more than a little anxious truth be told and he was starting to get that worrying feeling he got when a situation was about to turn into a shit storm.

“She’s on us, Cap’in. Puttin’ on sail and gainin’ fast.”

“Damn,” the Captain heaved on the wheel and the ship gave another lurch to the right. Betrim was ready for this time and steadied himself. Henry wasn’t so prepared; she stumbled and almost ended up on her arse. The glare she sent the captain’s way, after she had recovered, might have scared him into an apology if he had been paying attention. Instead he was shouting to his crew, orders mixed with insults and none of which Betrim understood but the crew clearly did. What had been chaos, and then organisation turned into organised chaos as sailors doubled their speed. Some scurried up the rigging like spiders climbing a wall; others heaved on ropes or disappeared into hatches.

“All hands on deck,” the captain bellowed then sent a quick glance at Betrim. “Get your people together down on the quarter deck. We’re running but if they catch us it’ll be a fight an’ a hard one at that.”

“Pirates?” Betrim asked.

“Most likely. Though never heard of any attacking ships so close to Chade before. Bad for business. Get down to the deck and stay out of the crew’s way.”

Betrim nodded for Henry to follow the captain’s orders and she jumped down to the quarter deck. Betrim stayed behind near the wheel, near the captain.

“Reckon I’ll stay here fer now,” he said. “We get boarded reckon ya might need someone ta look after ya.”

“Ha!” The captain laughed. “This won’t be my first fight, lad.” He turned from Betrim and shouted at his crew again. “Get the weapons up on deck. A sword for every man and a bow for all those know how to use them.”

If Betrim had thought the waiting was bad before the chase was even worse. Both ships slipped through the water and the port of Chade passed by them on their left side, though the captain insisted it was the larboard side. The vessel behind them grew steadily larger and closer and the captain grew steadily more tense and worried, his shouting containing less in the way of orders and more in the way of insults. Joan’s hunters and Bones’ soldiers were roused and herded up onto deck where they stood around trading nervous jokes and fingering idle weapons. Truth was their little group of thirty men, while outnumbered two to one by sailors, would be the ones to make all the difference should the pirate ship catch them.

The minutes stretched on and on and still the pirate ship closed on them. Even the captain started to look nervous. “Can we lose ‘em?” Betrim asked eventually, fearing he already knew the answer.

“She’s bigger than us, might be lower in the water. We could hug the coast and hopefully go where she can’t but…” The captain sighed and gave Betrim a look that spoke volumes about how fucked they were.

“What ‘bout Chade? They wouldn’t dock ta get at us,” he asked with hope.

The captain turned an anxious gaze on Betrim. “They’re burning ships over that way, lad. Rather take my chance with pirates than with fire. Boat’s been with my family for more than a couple of generations. I ain’t about to lose her ‘cos some dumb fuck ruler o’ Chade thinks burning ships is good for business.

“Now I’m sorry if that makes things a bit tougher for you and yours but the thing about being a captain of a ship is whiles you’re on my ship, my word is law and if I say fight, we fight.”

Betrim grunted.

“Cap’n,” shouted the sailor in the nest. “It’s the
Fortune
.”

The captain cursed and left the wheel to a nearby sailor before striding to the stern and again staring through his eye device. Betrim joined him, at this distance he could just about make out figures on the ship chasing them though in truth they looked little more than dark moving shapes. The
Fortune
had a dark hull, almost black and tore through the water in great lurching leaps.

With another curse the captain tucked his eye device away and spent a few minutes pacing the deck muttering to himself. Betrim decided it was best to keep quiet though his nerves were screaming at him to do something.

“Take in the sails,” the captain bellowed, again moving to the wheel. “Drop anchor and get those weapons stowed.”

“What the hell are…” Betrim started.

“We’re giving up. Letting them catch us,” the captain said, squaring up to Betrim. “We can’t outrun the
Fortune
and we sure as hell can’t outfight her.”

“I reckon ya might be underestimatin’ my lot,” Betrim said with confidence.

“You want to fight? Go ahead and try it but my crew will be sat holding onto our arses making sure we’re not involved. Long as we give in, don’t make them work too hard might be they’ll just take the cargo and let us move on. We fight and they’ll show us the error of our ways.”

Betrim let out a growl but admitted the captain probably knew best. He joined the others down on the quarter deck.

“Weapons down. We’re not fightin’ this one,” he ordered.

“Uh, boss…” Anders started but Joan cut him off.

“I ain’t gonna go quietly to a watery grave, Thorn,” Joan said. “That ain’t any sort of death I want.”

Betrim shook his head. “Captain reckons if we jus’ hand over the ship’s cargo these pirates will let us be on our way. Also says if we fight we’re on our own. Don’t much like those odds, Joan. Thirty against… how many folk can ya fit on a ship that size?”

“Lots,” Six-Cities Ben said.

Joan grumbled but agreed and ordered his hunters not to draw weapons and Bones gave the same order to his own men. Henry was a much harder sell but eventually Betrim convinced her it was better to surrender and live to fight another day. They were so close to Chade and yet so far away.

When the pirates came they came in numbers. The pirate ship sailed up alongside them and skiffs were launched. Some of the bolder pirates swung across on ropes tied to the masts but they found no resistance when they arrived. The sailors crowded onto the poop deck and made no signs of moving while the captain joined Betrim and the others on the quarterdeck before hissing at Betrim to keep his people under control.

Pirates surrounded them, pointing sharp swords and making whooping noises. It almost felt like they were trying to goad the crew into a fight but Betrim kept quiet, kept calm. Some of the pirates disappeared below decks, no doubt checking the cargo and personal belongings for any valuables.

“What have we ‘ere?” asked a bald man with an intricate tattoo of a serpent curling around his neck and jaw. “Looks like a right tough bunch of folk.”

The captain waved Betrim to silence and took a step forward. “Passengers is all. Mercs on their way to Chade.”

“Mercs is it?” the bald man asked with a smile. He wore a tight leather jerkin over his torso but it was clearly meant for a smaller man and he had a long, curved scimitar buckled to his belt. As Betrim watched a thick, furry, segmented leg just longer than his own forearm reached up from behind the man and attached itself to his shoulder. Then another leg appeared, and another, and another, and another, then the head of the creature. Betrim had never seen its like before, it was a spider, like those he’d seen in the wilds but it was as big as a particularly fat cat. It had a compact pale-green body with two huge fangs and four jet black eyes, almost as large as a child’s fist, set above them and another four eyes set to the sides of its head. To say Betrim felt unnerved would have been an understatement; truth was he felt like throwing himself overboard to get away from the ugly beast.

One of the pirates appeared from below decks and approached, he stopped in front of the bald pirate with the giant spider. “Looks ta be mostly wine an’ spices in the hold, sir. Fair sized haul.”

“All yours. We put up no fight,” the captain said quickly with a slight bow of his head.

“And the mercs?” the bald pirate asked. “What side you joinin’?”

“Uh… side?” Betrim asked.

The bald pirate narrowed his eyes and looked like we was about to say more when a commotion on the other side of the deck interrupted him. Seemed some of the pirates were reporting to another man, another man Betrim recognised all too well.

People were talking but the Black Thorn couldn’t hear them. Words passed over him in a wave drowned out by the
thump thump thump
pounding throughout his head and the physical need to kill Kessick.

He stood tall and proud, a wide smile on his handsome face and an easy grace to his walk. One hand rested on his sword hilt and a dozen pirates stood between him and Betrim but the Black Thorn didn’t care.

With a wordless cry of rage Betrim’s axe sprung to his hand and he started forwards. Anders was in his way, shouting something Betrim couldn’t hear, the
thumping
drowned him out. The Black Thorn shoved the smaller man aside and started forward again. Pirates formed up between him and Kessick, weapons at the ready, the bald man with the giant spider at their head.

A big hand grabbed hold of Betrim’s arm and he tried to shake it free but Joan held tight, unwilling to let go of the Black Thorn, unwilling to let him take his revenge.

Thump thump thump

Again Betrim shouted at Kessick. “You bastard! I’ll kill you!”

Betrim punched Joan in the face with his left hand and pulled his right free. Before he could move forward a step two huge arms wrapped around him from behind and held him tight. Bones’ strength was legendary and for some men that might have been it but the Black Thorn was not some men. He threw his head back into Bones’ chin and the big man loosed his grip and stumbled.

Before Betrim could move Henry was at his side pushing him back, Six-Cities Ben was with her. Betrim tried to throw them off but Joan was back, holding his right arm tight.

“Get off me!” the Black Thorn screamed. “You bastard. You killed them. You took my fuckin’ eye!”

Thump thump thump

Kessick laughed.

The Black Thorn roared again, trying to shake free from those holding him but to no avail. Then Bones stepped into view and the next thing Betrim saw was a fist connecting with his face.

Being punched in the face was never a pleasant experience but when Bones was connected to the other end of the fist it was downright unpleasant. Truth was, Betrim knew, the only reason he remained conscious was because the giant pulled his blow. Instead of blacking out Betrim found himself sprawled on the deck with his crew and all the others around him, making sure he couldn’t get past them.

He pushed himself back to his feet and gave a real threatening look to his friends. “What the fuck are you doin’?” he shouted at them. “That’s Kessick. The bastard who took my eye. It’s his fault Jezzet an’ Thanquil are dead!”