Pirate witch, p.22
Pirate Witch, page 22
part #3 of The Deadwood Series
Because otherwise, we’re outnumbered a hundred to one.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
NILSA
Trance is not my strongest subject. Most Lunars struggle with it, and I’m no exception. It’s all I can do to follow along with the others as we guide the beam of destructive moonlight we’ve created through the night sky. I have no idea if we’re even going in the right direction. I can only hope someone here is actively steering us towards Fort Sole.
While my consciousness is separate from my body like this, it’s easy for my thoughts to wander. The difficult part of trance is holding your focus in one place, rather than following every stray thought. Even though I’m not in my body, I can feel my head start to pound. The strain will only get worse the longer this goes on for, and I’m not looking forward to it.
Goddess, if my athame wasn’t one of the ones in the centre, responsible for channelling the gathered power, I might be tempted to give up. But I can’t. None of us can. A break in the web could send the whole spell spiralling out of control.
That’s why only the elder witches were initially meant to be a part of this spell. Then Reva insisted on joining in, and I was invited as Shadow… Goddess only knows how Alletta ended up here too. I can feel all of them around me, their energies moving with mine, directing power across the vast sea.
Time is funny in this state. What feels like seconds here could be minutes or hours back at the temple, and that worries me. When we passed over Hardhearth Bay, we saw for ourselves the vast number of ships still sending men to the already crowded shore of Coveton. If our Solar sisters can’t hold the protections around us, we’ll be killed before we even know what’s happening. All we can do is hurry across the deceptively calm waves, carrying the power we raised, and pray that we make it.
Just when I think my head will split open from pain, the lone, desolate rock which is Fort Sole finally looms on the horizon. Our collective relief strengthens our resolve, and we head for it with a grim kind of focus. This won’t be easy, and we all know it. Fort Sole is operated by prisoners, just like the Claw was. Hundreds of them will die, along with over a thousand soldiers.
I can only console myself with the knowledge that—like in the Claw and Ignira—captivity will have stripped most of them of their humanity. Their souls were lost long ago in the darkness beneath the earth. I say a prayer for them as we finally angle downwards, shooting toward the squat fort on the rock like destruction personified. At the very last second, we pull away from the power, leaving it to follow its inevitable course.
The boom which erupts as the moonlight hits stone is like nothing I’ve ever heard before. The island Fort Sole sits on crumples in on itself like paper.
The mine is annihilated. The very bones of the island are dragged down into the pit and swallowed by the ocean. When it’s over, there’s nothing left. Fort Sole no longer exists.
We linger for several precious seconds, ensuring our task is done, before allowing ourselves to follow the ropes of consciousness and the steady beat of the drums back to our physical bodies.
I open my eyes to chaos. My mind is so strung out that I can’t seem to get to grips with being back in my own body again. It’s like I’ve come back to myself, only to find my physical form is now a strange place which doesn’t make sense anymore.
My ears are useless. I can’t hear anything over the ringing in them. Above us, the golden dome is gone—our protection destroyed—and only fragments of it remain, glimmering in the air like embers. I force myself to my knees and stare at the battle in shock. Our harems are defending us, and the Solars have retreated to the inside of the circle, helping the wounded as best they can. I can pick out Elsie, with her glowing hair, as she heals one of Danika’s men. She’s crying, tears rolling down her cheeks as she works, but she hasn’t given up.
A hand grips my shoulder. Danika.
My oldest friend is yelling in my face, but I can’t hear her. It takes me several long blinks until I can focus enough to string her words together.
“Crystal,” I mumble, and the ringing in my ears grows even worse, like it’s punishing me for speaking.
I fumble with the straps of my pouch, drawing out the small, luminous hunk of rock. I’m so unsteady that I almost drop it in my haste to tap it.
“Acelin,” I call, tapping it a second time.
The effect is instantaneous. Mist flows out of the stone in a soft, fluffy blanket, carpeting the floor, and the wraith king himself bursts forward. His red eyes take in the scene around us with sombre curiosity and he eventually turns back to me with a solemn nod.
“We will uphold our end of the bargain.” I don’t hear Acelin’s words. They travel right through me, into my very bones.
More mist pours from the crystal, spreading beyond the boundaries of our circle, making everyone stop in their tracks as more spectral wraith forms erupt from it. Long claws and longer fangs clicking menacingly as they hiss and screech.
“The men in red uniforms,” I whisper. “They serve the Queen.”
Acelin bows again to me. “Then we will paint this world with their blood.”
In a rush of cold that sweeps through me, the wraiths disappear. Elsie takes Acelin’s place in front of me, laying hands coated in gold light on either side of my head.
My hearing returns in a rush. As if my soul has been roughly forced back into my body and locked down by her power.
I wish she hadn’t done it.
Because now I can hear their screams.
CASIMIR
I know it makes me a shit mate, but I lose sight of Nilsa the second the Solars’ iron spears fracture and their shield begins to falter. I push through the crowd—away from our mate—and toward the front line, drawing my cutlass as I ready myself to take up the mantle of protecting the gathered witches. Plenty of people here are doing the same. Some of them are part of a Lunar’s harem, like us; others are just supernatural members of the community who’ve volunteered. Even Cooper is gingerly carrying a sword.
It’s been hours since the Lunars went into that weird trance, and in that time, it feels like the entire royal army has assembled around this tiny part of Coveton. Fuck, they’ve even taken cannons from their ships and started firing them at the Solars, all in an effort to break that golden barrier protecting them. Up close, the noise is deafening. So much so that some of the Solars have started healing shattered eardrums already.
We knew the witches wouldn’t be able to hold out forever. Now it’s our turn.
The first spear shatters like it’s made of glass, creating a gap. The Solar who was holding it is tugged behind a defensive line of sword-wielding humans before she can come to harm. Another Solar steps in to plug the gap before they can take advantage. This one doesn’t have a spear like the first, and her power emanates from her hands rather than the metal. The second she gets into position, another spear breaks.
There’s only so many Solars who can plug up the holes. The original spear-holders are exhausted, and their replacements are obviously less powerful. All of us beneath the golden dome are forced to watch as, piece by piece, it starts to fade. Until only the Solar high priestesses are left to hold the thing together. Even I know that’s not a good use of their power.
On some silent signal, the four powerful Solar women drop the shield all together. Familiars roar forward, chasing through the ranks as they switch from their smaller forms into huge, angry big cats. Most of them are panthers, not tigers like Opal. Nilsa’s familiar is larger—unique among the others with her striped silver fur—and I know that’s going to make her a target.
Shit, now we have to protect the cat as well as our witch.
The cats go for the humans operating the cannons, ripping into their flesh as they do their best to put the destructive weapons out of action.
Instinctively, I search out my twin. Nos is waiting behind me, ready to rush forward by my side. Immortal speed is going to make dodging the bullets child’s play, but the others won’t be so lucky. Most of the people behind us are humans, with only a few immortal volunteers among them.
Taking a last deep breath, I leap forward, heading for the mages with a single-minded determination.
They don’t need to rush forward—most of them are happier on the edge of conflict using their spells as long-range weapons—but a handful of them do. Before I can call out a warning, they’ve disarmed and grabbed Cooper. I try to hack my way through the enemy to get to him, but there are just too many between me and him. No one else has even noticed, too busy in their own fight. I briefly consider shifting and letting my leviathan do the work, but my other form is too big for this space. I’ll end up crushing our allies.
All I can do is watch as the pair of larger mages stun him with one of their glyphs and drag him away from the gunfire and mage-blasts. They shield their backs as they disappear down an alley, no doubt taking him to his father, as ordered.
Shit.
I can’t follow him. Not when there are so few of us between my mate and the people who want her dead. No matter how much I pity the kid, I can’t choose him over my mate.
We’re going to get you back, I promise.
If we don’t, I think Elsie might never forgive us.
My beast is right beneath my skin, his scales coming forward to cover my arms as I run into battle, shielding me from stray blades and bullets. We’ve never been able to do this before. I haven’t had enough control until now. But shifting with Nos seems to have settled my relationship with my beast completely. Now I use that to my full advantage as I dodge blasts of mage fire and slice through the magic-wielding bastards one by one.
We’re so focused on the fight that none of us notice the fog at first. It creeps between us in tendrils, slowly covering the courtyard until it forms a deep blanket around our ankles. I haven’t seen it for years, but it’s not the kind of thing you forget.
Everything in me wants to stab the wraith which manifests between me and the mage currently trying to disarm me. Only fear stops me. If that creature decides I’m the enemy, then I’m dead. There’s no way to outrun it, no way to kill it. Only salt works, and I didn’t bring any to this battle.
I’m rewarded for my terror-filled inaction when the ghastly creature stretches its mouth wide and bites the head of the mage off in one clean chomp.
Blood spurts, covering what little of me was still clean. I fall backwards as the wraith continues ripping into the mage, stumbling and ending up on my ass as I take in the scene around us. Everywhere I look, wraiths are sweeping through the area. That terrible white mist they bring has blanketed the whole courtyard, and now they rush through the place like a spectral plague. Our rag-tag group of defenders remains untouched as they chase the fleeing men through the city, screeching in glee.
Goddess, I know they’re on our side, but they still scare the shit out of me.
“Yeah, you’re not alone,” Nos mutters, alerting me to the fact that I spoke my last thought out loud. “Imagine not being able to see them.”
“That’s a blessing,” I retort, scrabbling to find the flare we brought with us. “Trust me.”
At least their appearance means our witch made it back to us in one piece.
“The signal?” Nos asks, reminding me of my one job.
I find the stupid gun and hold it up in the air, pulling the trigger and sending up a bright green flare into the sky. A signal to tell the others still on our ships to move in for the kill. Then I clap my brother on the shoulder.
“Elsie’s mage got taken in the fighting. We need to get him back.”
“I agree,” he says, catching my meaning easily.
The first part of the battle is over, won for us by the wraiths. But there’s a second battle raging at sea, and it’s time to lend our captain a hand. Hopefully, we’ll be able to get Cooper back in the process.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
VALOREAN
The Deadwood cruises through the grey waters like a dream. At my stern are the other ships Cirio sent. There are five of them, and they’ve all chosen to follow my course as we drop sail and steer around the headland that’s been hiding us from sight. The green light in the sky should make me feel better—it’s a sign that everything has gone according to plan, after all—but it doesn’t. The tension coiled in my muscles is almost painful and it’s not getting any better as I lead our small force across the bay. Our plan is simple: we have to cut my uncle’s ships off from the open sea, leaving them no choice but to face us.
Right now, their attention is on the fleet of longboats struggling to push off away from the fog-laced city. The screams of men falling to the wraiths are so loud that I can hear them from across the bay. The screeches of those creatures are even louder, and I thank both Goddesses, profusely, that I’m chained to the sea in a way that I hope means I’ll never have to meet one up close.
In that same thought, I pray that they keep to their word and leave my mate and crew untouched.
It made no sense for me to stay with them, leaving us a ship down, but I hate being left behind with no clue about what’s happening. They could be injured, attacked by wraiths, dying, and—
I cut off those musings with the savage discipline everyone who lives and dies by the sea learns early on. Worrying for my crew and our witch won’t help them now. All I can do is destroy these motherfuckers before they get a chance to rejoin their cronies in Cawshome and come back for revenge.
The ships in the bay are panicking, the bells on their decks ringing out in frantic alarm, sending whatever skeleton crew remains aboard scrambling to their stations. In response, my own ship readies herself, and the hatches on the gun ports open and lock into place. The long guns roll into position without much prodding, and my transmutation circles flicker to life across the hull, reinforcing the Deadwood.
Even Titan, standing alert on the deck beside me, gets covered in glyphs. I hadn’t planned for him to still be aboard, but I’m grateful for the company. It’s selfish, but I’m glad I’m not leading this ambush completely alone.
The Deadwood is ready for battle, and so am I.
The other ships behind me don’t fire yet. They’re waiting for my signal, and I’m cutting things tight. I want to get close and unleash a full broadside into these fuckers before they know what’s hit them. It’s a risky plan, one which depends on them being too worried about the wraiths on the shore to notice the ships on their other side.
It pays off. I fire the first volley into a completely unsuspecting ship, watching with satisfaction as the already frantic crew yell out in confusion. They weren’t expecting this ambush, and it shows as their frantic captain jumps straight overboard.
Idiot coward. The shark shifters from the other ships will finish him off quicker than I can destroy his ship.
The crew of the largest ship—a Man O' War hidden behind the bulk of the other seven frigates in the fleet—is working overtime. That’s a complication. None of us thought they’d send anything that big after the witches. There wasn’t much point, considering that the witches would be fighting on land. Evidently, we underestimated my uncle’s ego.
I draw out my spyglass to get a better look and the Eagle’s sick logic immediately becomes apparent. They’ve anchored her with her powerful long guns facing the docks, probably intending to fire on the town once they were done with the witches—bastards.
I lower my spyglass with a frustrated groan.
We’re going to have to work overtime to break down the wall of frigates keeping that vessel from our firepower and then bring something that large and heavily armoured down. It’s not impossible, though. That ship might have a lot of guns, but it’s slow as fuck. If we can out-manoeuvre it, we can bring it down.
Another round of cannon fire, and my first target splinters. The mainmast comes crashing down, narrowly missing my own rigging. Titan barks out a victory woof, and I grin. One down, seven to go.
It shouldn’t come as a shock when the Man O' War flickers with multicoloured glyphs of its own. They’re following my example. The mages on board would be stupid not to imitate a strategy that works.
Too bad they’re doing a shit job of it. They’re royal mages, pets who don’t work well together. And they have to work together to do what I do. They’re just not powerful enough to shield a whole ship by themselves.
Still, it will make things difficult. Especially since they’ve made the smart decision to cover the areas around their power store and their masts—the two main weak points I usually prefer to hit.
One of our ships takes down a second frigate before they even manage to get out a volley. A tiny victory thrill runs down my spine as I watch the burning ship get split in two by Fitz’s ram. We’re six against six now. Granted, one is a fucking Man O' War, but that’s got to mean something is going right.
I angle the guns slightly, aiming for a third ship, just behind the Man O' War, but before I can, one of their frigates finally manages to get out a coordinated burst of fire. Fitz’s ship, the Golden Griffin, braces for impact, but the rounds cut straight through the bow, coming dangerously close to the powder store. The damage is like a bucket of ice water over my premature optimism.
More fire follows. The gunshots are coming so fast and frequently now that I struggle to tell which side is firing them. The pirate crews are fast, efficient, and fucking good brawlers, so I leave them to it and set my sights on the giant ship, still struggling to get her guns loaded.
When she does, we’re fucked.
The Deadwood is primed to fire another shot, and this time I add a little extra magical punch, testing out those shields.
They hold. Fuck. How are they holding?
It doesn’t matter that they aren’t covering the whole ship. I don’t have enough guns to turn that ship into matchsticks on my own. If they can keep the vital areas protected… This might be harder than I thought.
