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Drue was hobbling along the gangway, holding his ribcage.
“That’s the cabin boy,” replied Jarin, a sense of doom descending on him like a dark cloud. “He’s on my side.”
The commander ran to meet Drue at the end of the gangway, where the boy sagged against the railing. Up close, his face was stained with tears and blood. The back of his grubby shirt was shredded and streaked red. He’d been flogged.
“Artus knows,” said Drue, fresh tears springing to his brown eyes. “I’m sorry. He made me tell him everything. About the mutiny, the royal ship at Skull Cave. I tried to hold out, but then he let Terrick?—”
Jarin held up his hand for silence, anger flaming in his gut. “He was about to find out, anyway.”
“It’s Berolt sounding the horn,” said Drue. “We hoped you’d get back before Artus left.”
“Left?” repeated Jarin. “What do you mean?”
Before Drue could answer, a short, sharp whistle rang out, cutting through the ceaseless ghostly drone of the horn. Two ships down, Artus waved from the deck of a merchant schooner, grinning like a jester. Terrick and Lovel and at least ten other crew mates were pulling the anchor and setting sail.
One of them hoisted a dark flag up the mast. Only then, Jarin realized the Dark Tide Clan flag was missing from the Pandora. They’d stolen another ship.
Artus cupped his hands around his mouth, amplifying his gleeful voice. “You wanted to be captain of the Pandora? It’s all yours!”
He dropped his hands and roared with laughter, his crew joining in.
Jarin gritted his teeth. This was so much worse than Artus discovering the mutiny. The captain loved the Pandora—he’d only abandon the ship if it was severely compromised.
Riella tapped her talons on his arm. “Uh, why’s that patrol coming down here?”
Sure enough, a cavalcade of royal soldiers rode on horseback toward the docks, from farther up the hill. Either Artus leaked the scuttling of the royal ship, or that soft-handed kid in the brig was faster at untying knots than Jarin had reckoned. He and his men and the siren were about to be ambushed.
“Artus tortured and killed many on the royal ship,” said Drue, his face turning from white to gray. “If the patrol catches us, we’ll hang.”
With a snarl, Jarin watched Artus depart in his schooner. The captain gave a mock salute as the vessel picked up speed on the glossy blue water, gliding to the safety of the open sea.
“We ought to set sail, no?” asked Riella mildly, still eyeing the incoming cavalcade of soldiers. “The mutiny was a success, strictly speaking, so you must take me to the Black Cliffs.”
“Oh, must I? Now is not?—”
Drue coughed. “There’s one other thing. Lovel put an axe through the hull before they took off. Ulyss is down there trying to patch it up.”
Repressing the urge to roar in frustration, Jarin hooked Drue under one arm while Riella took the other side. Together, they hauled the bleeding cabin boy on board and Jarin dragged the gangway in behind them.
“To Hieros Isle!” he hollered at his crew. “Fast as you can, lads!”
Then, he addressed Riella. “We’ll take Drue to the infirmary.”
The boy was losing blood and badly needed patching up.
Below deck, a single porthole lit the barebones infirmary. The only supplies were a box of tattered bandages and ancient ointments, but that’d have to do until they could get Drue ashore. Riella helped the cabin boy remove what was left of his shirt.
“I can do this,” she said without looking up. “Go.”
Relieved that Drue was in good hands, maybe, Jarin hurtled upstairs. The boy’s injuries wouldn’t matter if the whole bloody ship went down. The vessel, which had begun to pick up pace, gave a sudden creaking lurch as he reached the deck.
The shore rapidly disappeared in the bronze dusk.
The royal cavalcade was on the docks, a few of the horsemen dismounting where the Pandora had been just minutes ago. A solider watched the ship through a spyglass, while the others argued between themselves. Jarin wagered they were deciding whether or not to commandeer a vessel and give chase.
The royal guardsmen would surely realize they were no match for Dark Tide pirates when it came to sailing. Night would soon fall, and finding a ship in the dark was a fool’s errand.
But then, the Pandora also had a damaged hull, which made her an easier quarry. Did the royal patrol know about the damage? Jarin prayed they did not.
