Vengeance of the Pirate Queen (Daughter of the Pirate King #3)

Chapter 11

WHEN I’VE RESTED LONG enough to catch my breath, I climb the nearest snow-covered tree. It’s an evergreen with long daggerlike needles. Some sort of vermin scurries out of my path when I’m halfway up, my hands near frozen through from the cold bark. I had to remove my gloves so they wouldn’t get covered in sap.

From above, I can see the galleon in the distance, circling the shore, looking for stragglers. Rowboats meander to the remains of our ship, likely looking to see what they can scavenge.

Our new friends on land are not too far off. They’re just about to enter our section of woods to search for us.

I return to the ground and order everyone to keep moving.

Dimella monitors a compass regularly to keep track of where we’re going and how we can return to the water if need be. We don’t head in one direction but continue to make turns to confuse our pursuers. We hug the thicker trees, where the snow isn’t as soft, to hide our tracks.

“Is it safe yet?” Little Roslyn asks after another hour of movement.

“Not yet,” I tell her, “but don’t you worry. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

“I’m not scared.”

I believe her.

It isn’t until dusk is threatening the skies that we finally stop for the night. Radita was smart enough to bring waterproof canvas intended for the sails, and we lay it down below our tents and let the trees cover us from above. Dimella stations lookouts around the camp, and I order Jadine to under no circumstances build a fire. For I can see smoke far in the distance, where the enemy must be camping. We’ll not let them know our location so easily.

We’ve only a few tents between us, so we’ll have to pack the girls and lads tightly, but at least no one will be freezing at night.

We dust the snow off a few fallen logs and use them as makeshift chairs. Jadine passes out a rationed meal of hardtack and jerky to all. I eat mine quietly while the crew converses among themselves.

“Well, shit,” Kearan says.

“Could have been a lot worse,” Dimella says. “We made it to land without losing another soul. That’s no small miracle.”

“Yeah, but we walked into the same trap that all the ships before us did.”

“No one could have seen that coming.”

Alosa would have , I think to myself. She would have the moment she saw the sunken ships. Not when she was practically to shore and unable to save her vessel.

Enwen’s off in a corner, shoveling at the snow.

“You digging a latrine?” Dimella asks him.

Enwen looks between her and the hole. “… Yes.”

Kearan shakes his head. “He’s looking for gold.”

The two laugh. Laugh! How can they laugh when I’ve sunk our ship and stranded us on this frozen wasteland? I may keep a strong face and act capable, but I’ve never felt more confused and out of my depth.

I want to kill something.

Taydyn approaches our group. “I’d like to set some traps outside of camp. See if we can catch some food to add to what we salvaged from the ship. If we cook during the daytime, the fire will be less visible.”

I nod. “Enwen, go help him.”

Enwen hands his shovel to one of the girls before scurrying off with Taydyn through the brush.

Roslyn scoots closer to me for warmth, and I throw my arm over her.

“You haven’t said much, Captain,” she says. “Are you all right?”

Everyone within hearing range of her comment looks at me.

“I’m fine.”

This time, it might not be true, though.

“We’ll have an early start tomorrow,” I say to the group. “You best all turn in.”

I may be a captain without a ship, but the crew heeds my orders, piling themselves into the tents. Roslyn follows the remaining gunwomen into one, eager for the promise of warmth.

Only one person stays behind outside. One man. The one I knew would wait.

Kearan.

How’s that for learning his new patterns?

He always sees through me. I may have said I’m fine, but he knows that’s not true. He means to talk, hopes to get me to open up yet again. I brace myself for what he’ll say to me. It’s not your fault. There’s nothing you could have done. No one blames you. You’re a good captain. He’ll try to make me feel better but only infuriate me instead. I begin to ready my argument.

He says, “Get over it.”

I expel a small breath of surprise. “What?”

“Get over it. You messed up. Now move on. Think about your next move.”

I can’t say anything for a full five seconds. “You blame me?”

“Didn’t say that.”

“You said I messed up.”

“Isn’t that what you’re thinking?”

“I asked what you were thinking.”

“You don’t care what I think. You respond better to tough love. So there it is. The advice you would give yourself if you could think past your guilt. Get over it.”

He didn’t tell me what I expected to hear, yet I’m somehow angrier than if he had.

Alosa said I would make mistakes. She was right. I just didn’t expect to fail so miserably. Or to feel the way I do when it happened. The pain of my shortcomings is a constant pressure against my skin. Something trying to beat its way out of me. I want to be alone. I want to hunt. I want to do something so I don’t have to think.

But none of those are options right now.

I stand from the log I’d been perched on and begin to pace. Sitting still is driving me mad, despite the hours of running we all had to do today.

“I failed them all,” I say after a moment, because talking is the only thing I have left, and he’s the only one who stuck around to listen.

“You saved them,” he says. “We’re here. We’re alive. We have food. Alosa will come for us if we can survive long enough.”

“Alosa isn’t supposed to save us. I’m supposed to save those girls. Instead, I’ve gotten more of us stuck here.”

Kearan picks a stick from the ground, dusts the snow off it, and begins breaking off the smaller branches. “Plans change.”

“That’s your advice? Plans change. ”

“Captain, you don’t want advice. You want someone to yell at and fight with so you can take your own attention off yourself.”

I am so sick of him telling me exactly what I’m thinking.

I pull a knife from my waist and throw it. It lodges into the trunk Kearan’s sitting on, barely an inch away from his leg.

He looks down at it, grins, and says, “Do that again.”

I reach for another knife and fling it. It lands just a bit above the first.

“Throw until you miss,” he challenges.

I grab a knife with my left hand, toss it to my right, then hurl it with all my strength. It strikes near Kearan’s thigh. But he doesn’t have to encourage me anymore. I grab and throw, grab and throw. Five knives. Ten knives. All making a neat outline surrounding where Kearan sits.

The fifteenth and final knife lands near his left calf, tearing through the thick pants he wears. When he dislodges it, a small line of red appears on the blade.

“Missed,” he says, not showing an ounce of pain or shock. He throws the knife back at me, and I catch it out of the air by the blade without slicing my skin.

As he somehow knew I would.

We stare at each other. Me out of breath, him with that ridiculous grin, and something within my chest shifts ever so slightly.

“Now,” Kearan says, “what’s the plan, Captain?”

I wipe the knife free of blood on my own pant leg and return it to my person. “We find those girls. Get them to safety. Wait for Alosa to arrive. I keep this crew alive and well until then.”

“Good. What’s the first step?”

“I need to get a closer look at whoever lives here to see if they’ve captured Alosa’s crew.”

“Let’s go,” he says, standing and revealing the outline of himself left behind by my blades.

I LET THE GIRLS on watch know I’m going off scouting with Kearan, and then the two of us take off.

Perhaps it was a foolish thing to agree to. Nothing about Kearan is stealthy, but I’d disappoint Dimella if I tried going off on my own. I like having her good opinion. I want to maintain the mutual respect we have for each other. Besides, Kearan probably won’t be able to keep up, and I’ll lose him in the dark. He’ll have no choice but to return back to camp. Dimella can hardly be upset then.

It’s so very dark under the trees, but thin beams of moonlight break through the canopy, illuminating our way. The small scurrying of nightlife sounds around us. Some sort of nocturnal bird hoots in the evening air, and the leaves and needles rustle around us, despite the lack of breeze.

The needle-strewn floor masks any sound and prints we might leave on the ground. I dart from tree to tree, searching our surroundings carefully before moving on to the next stopping point. Small plants appear here and there, and I skirt them so as not to leave a trace.

Kearan makes barely a sound behind me.

In fact, I have to look over my shoulder more than once to ensure he’s keeping apace with me.

“You remember what I used to do for a living, right?” he asks. “Stealth was often required.”

Still, there’s so much of him. I don’t know how he manages it.

“You make a lot of assumptions about me based on my size,” he says. “I don’t like it.”

I halt in place and turn, staring at him.

“I’m a big man. Always have been. I have no problem with it. Do you?”

“Of course not.”

“Good.”

I turn back around, thoroughly puzzled by the exchange. I can’t tell if he wanted to know what I thought about his body shape or if he was concerned it might affect how I treat him or something else entirely.

I like his shape, not that I would ever tell him that. And I would assume anyone who isn’t me would make more noise than usual, but maybe I need to be more careful with my thoughts and words if they’re coming out wrong.

Talking has never been my strong suit.

Still, I say over my shoulder, “I’m sorry if I’ve offended.”

“If? You remember that you once pitched me off a ship and into the ocean, right?”

“I meant with my words.”

He seems thoroughly shocked for a full second. Then he mutters, “Apology accepted.”

“Good. Now, quiet; we’re getting close.”

It is a thing I sense, rather than see, that tells me we’re nearly there. I halt in place, and Kearan does the same two steps behind me. The moon hides behind cloud cover, obstructing my vision, but I am endlessly patient, waiting the fifteen minutes for it to return. My eyes take in the surrounding landscape, checking every tree and bush twice.

I spot the man up in the canopy to our right, even before he coughs loudly into the frigid air. The glint of a pistol in the moonlight appears near some shrubbery, and there’s a rustling not too far off to our left.

We skirt them all, moving slowly. Waiting, waiting, waiting. Crouching, springing forward. Crouching again. Soon, I can smell the smoke from the campfire, and my mouth waters at the scent of whatever they are roasting.

Kearan taps my back and points, having spotted yet another guard up in the trees. I nod, and we continue on, tracing a circle around the entire campsite, until I know the location of every person on watch, including the one who fell asleep leaning against another tree. He’s the one we tread past to get closer.

A large boulder rests just outside the firelight, and Kearan and I press our backs against it. I look around the side, peering through some bushes to take a look at what’s before us.

There are ten of them. Big, built men wrapped in furs and armed to the teeth. They carry spears and quivers of arrows. Bows resting beside where each of them sits. Swords at their waists. The hilts of knives peeking over their boots. A few sport pistols.

They don’t look different from us. Their skin and hair come in the same colors. Their facial features are arranged in the same shapes. They are human just like us.

Though their language is far different.

I listen carefully as they speak to one another around that campfire. The words are nonsense to me, the vowels softer than we say them, but their laughter is the same. Our known world is so small, consisting of one inhabited country made up of seventeen islands. There are other islands spread throughout Maneria, of course. The late pirate king used some to house his keep. Alosa uses another for her stronghold. The sirens have some that they frequent. But outside of that? There was nothing. No other people.

Until now.

They’re here on the most unlikely place for habitation, and twenty men are stationed at this specific location with … very little.

There aren’t any tents or other shelters here. Nothing to suggest this is a campsite at all. In fact, aside from the food they’re eating and the fire they manage, there’s nothing. If this is the search party meant to find us, they are poorly equipped.

My eyes do another sweep of the area, searching for what I missed.

Kearan finds it before I do, pointing to what I originally thought was only a shadow, but is actually an opening between two boulders on the other side of the fire.

They’re guarding something. An opening into the earth.

A prison, perhaps?

This is no campsite but a guard watch.

It’s impossible to sneak past them all right now. Not without some sort of diversion to draw them away or at the very least get them to look in another direction. It’s not something we can manage with just the two of us.

I’ve no choice but to turn away and come back again later.

WHEN THE LIGHT IN the tent first starts to brighten, I rise and exit. It was a fitful night’s sleep. Though I’ve slept on the hard ground many a night, I am not used to having other people touching me. I would doze, only to wake at the first movement of another body in the tent.

I stretch in the frigid morning air and rub at the spots where my weapons dug into my skin. Like hell was I removing my knives while I slept.

Jadine soon joins me outside with her helpers, and they set to getting breakfast ready. While waiting for the rest of the crew to wake, I do sweeps around the area, checking in with each of the girls on watch, who all report seeing nothing in the night. As I do so, I rehearse in my head what I’ll say to the crew this morning.

Kearan’s words are never far from my mind.

Get over it.

And his accompanying grin as I threw knife after knife at him.

I shake those thoughts from my head as I return to camp. The cabin girls pass around the food, and Roslyn jumps down from the nearest tree to receive a bowl. Even on land that girl likes to be up high.

“See anything interesting?” I ask her.

“Snow,” she says, deadpan.

I wait for everyone to have their morning oats before I dare to speak. It is my experience that folks are more amiable when they’re not hungry.

“Yesterday was a rough one. I … apologize for not speaking about it last night. You all worked admirably. Short of seeing the future, there’s nothing we could have done to save the ship. The moment we anchored, we were sitting ducks.

“But we’re all here now. Alive with food and shelter. We’re going to be okay. Our yano bird will return to the queen. She will send more ships this way, and they’ll have a far easier time of it now that we’ve taken care of that beastie.”

A few shouts of raw! go up at the pronouncement.

“We need only survive until they get here,” I continue, “but that doesn’t mean we can’t still do the job we were sent to do.” I explain about the underground entrance and the men guarding it. “I want to get a better look at it today during the daylight.”

Dimella and I spend some time together talking strategy, but in the end, we decide it’s best if Kearan and I scope it out again. As always, I’d rather go it alone, but it’s not just me I’m putting in danger anymore by doing so. I have a whole crew depending on me.

Before the two of us head out, Philoria and Visylla approach me. I ache to see their saddened faces. Bayla’s death hit them harder than everyone else, for they knew her best.

“Captain, we’d like permission to go down to the water tonight and light a lantern for Bayla’s soul.”

“Of course. We should not delay. I will accompany you.”

They both nod before striding away, and Kearan and I take off.

The landscape isn’t terribly different during the day, though I swear it’s just as cold and difficult to see. The sun reflects off all that white snow, blinding anyone who dares to look at it. The plants we saw last night now have color to them, and these purple blossoms poke through the ground at uneven intervals. Kearan and I wear white to blend in with our surroundings. (I had to borrow clothes from some of the other girls, since I don’t own anything in a light shade.)

There isn’t much more to see at the campfire in the daytime.

New men have taken watch. The same number as before: ten around the fire, ten more keeping watch from the trees or surrounding foliage. They stare out at their surroundings with vigilance.

There’s definitely something down there they don’t want anyone to find.

Or perhaps people they don’t want broken free?

At first, I thought it wishful thinking to hope for Alosa’s crew to still be alive if they were captured, but if the natives have underground prisons for newcomers, then maybe we have a chance.

The crew and I find a new rhythm in the days that follow. I observe the natives, listening to them speak to one another, watching them exchange shifts guarding that entrance belowground. Dimella has a watch rotation all worked out so everyone can take turns keeping lookout. Instead of maintaining a sailing ship, we have to keep the camp stocked. We send out parties to collect firewood, go hunting, and scavenge for anything we might be able to use.

Everyone takes turns teaching Roslyn how to fight with her new rapier. She has a sparring buddy for every hour of the day to keep her occupied and out of trouble. Though she doesn’t know it, her fighting partners are whoever is charged with guarding her in that moment. I’m taking no chances with her.

Enwen always lets her win.

Dimella puts her in her place.

And I make her work until her limbs drop with exhaustion.