Emerald Storm by Michael J. Sullivan

Author:Michael J. Sullivan
Language: eng
Format: epub

***

Hadrian and the tiny crew of the stolen Dacca ship had only just reached the starboard side of the Storm when the area grew bright. The Emerald Storm was ablaze. Within little more than a minute, the fire had enveloped the deck. Men in the rigging had no choice but to jump. From that height, their bodies hit the water with a cracking sound. The rigging ignited, ropes snapped, and yards broke free falling like flaming tree trunks. The darkness of the starless sea fell away as the Emerald Storm became a floating bonfire. Those near the rail leapt into the sea. Screams, cries and the crackle and hiss of fire filled the night.

Looking over the black water, whose surface was alive with wild reflections, Hadrian spied a bit of sandy hair and a dark uniform. “Mister Wesley, grab on!” Hadrian called, grabbing a rope and throwing it.

Like a man in a dream, Wesley turned at the sound of his name. He looked at the tartane with confusion in his eyes until he spotted Hadrian reaching out. He grabbed the rope thrown and was reeled in like a fish and hoisted on deck.

“Nice to have you aboard, sir,” Hadrian told him.

Wesley gasped for air and rolled over, vomiting seawater.

“From that, I assume you’re happy to be here.”

“Wyatt!” Poe shouted.

“Royce!” Hadrian called.

“Over there!” Derning said, pointing.

Poe turned the tiller and they sailed toward the sound of splashing.

“It’s Bernie and Staul,” Grady announced 1from where he stood on the bow.

The two wasted no time scrambling up the ship’s ropes.

“More splashing over there!” Davis pointed.

Poe did not have to alter course as the swimmers made good progress to them. Davis was the first to lend a hand. He reached out to help and a blade stabbed him in the chest before he was pulled overboard.

Hadrian saw them now, swarthy, painted brutes with long daggers, their wet glistening skin shimmering with the light of the flames. They grabbed at the netting, and scrambled like rats up the side of the tartane.

Hadrian drew his sword and lashed out at the nearest one, who dodged and stubbornly continued to climb. The Tenkin warrior, Staul, stabbed another in the face and the Dacca dropped backward with a cry and a splash. Defoe and Wesley joined in, thrashing wildly until the Dacca gave up and fell away into the darkness.

“Watch the other side!” Wesley shouted.

Staul and Defoe took positions on the starboard rail but nothing moved.

“Any sign of Davis?” Hadrian asked.

“Dee man be dead now,” Staul said. “Be more keerful who you sail to, eh?”

“Bulard!” Defoe said, pointing ahead to more swimmers.

“And three more over there,” Wesley announced, picking out faces in the tumultuous water. “One is Greig, the carpenter, and that’s Doctor Levy, and there is…”

Hadrian did not need Royce’s eyes to identify the other man. The infernal light coming off the burning ship suited the face. It was Sentinel Thranic, his hood thrown back, his pale face gleaming. Derning, Defoe, and Staul were bad enough. Now they had Thranic, of all people.

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