A Pirate's Tale [COMPLETED]

Chapter 18 - "I can handle myself."

For a heartbeat, no one moved. They were trapped in a nightmare that was too horrible to believe real.

One of the riggings - attached to the main mast - was on fire. Orange serpents snaked their way around the ropes, hissing in the night air and eating their way towards the mast. The rank smell of smoke created clouds overhead. Below the flames, men were hauling buckets of water trying to douse the fire.

Hawk, Orin, and Brockton broke from their shock and sprinted for the ship. Panic and disbelief consumed Isla as she raced after them, forgetting her wound. She made it four steps before a stab of pain halted her, making her stagger with the sharp reminder.

Before she could fall, a pair of strong arms wrapped around her, stabilizing her. Instantly she knew who it was, for with the arms came the scent of the sea, wind, and ale.

When she looked up at Jakks, he wasn't looking at her. Instead, his mouth was a grim slash as his eyes reflected the column of fire. Even without owning the ship, the fear of what was taking place hit every sailor the same way. As Isla used his support to move forward, he snapped himself from his thoughts.

"Who did you anger this time?" he asked.

Isla's steps were too slow, body too weak when all she wanted to do was run up the gangway and stop the nightmare.

"Are you talking about the ship or my side?" she asked.

It was then Jakks noticed that bloodied shirt. She didn't have to time explain, the wound she bore could wait. She pushed his shoulder towards the ship.

"Help them," she said.

He left her and darted up the gangway, just as Roland fired an arrow at the rope connected to the mast, severing it. The rigging fell onto the deck like an orange flag cut loose. Gripping the railing, Isla made her way up, watching as the flames were smothered.

By the time, she made it on board, the worst had been put out. Once she managed to tear her eyes away from the destruction, she saw it was not the only thing to be attacked. Barrels were overturned and men with sooty faces wore the markings of a fight.

Off to one side, Isla spotted Raif. He knelt beside a prone figure. His shirt had been removed and he was using it to press against the figure's leg. Clutching her side, Isla carved a path to him.

From the bare plain of his back and arms, she could see that the past two weeks of sun, movement, and meals had restored most of his former strength. Hearing her approach, he raised his head. Only then did she realize it was Sparrow laid out, with blood dripping from his thigh.

"What happened?" she asked.

"The ship was attacked. They came out of nowhere. Before we knew what was happening they were on us."

Isla tried not to dwell on what hell she had brought down on them this time and who was behind it. Instead, she grabbed hold of the situation.

"Where's Bin?" she asked.

Raif nodded towards the stairs. "Patching up the other men."

"Can you carry him?" she asked, pointing to Sparrow, who moaned.

In answer, Raif scooped up the boy and waited for her directions.

"Take him to my cabin."

She spun around, wincing at the pain that knifed her side.

"Jakks!"

He emerged from the crowd, coat removed and shirtsleeves rolled up.

"I need you," she said. Finding Hawk, she gestured to him. He crossed to her side. "Find out what other damages we took and see if all the men are okay."