Winds of Fate [Books I-III]

Chapter Thirty-Seven: Dead Men Tell No Tales

Salty and stinging brine laced with the stench of rotting flesh sweeps the deck as a cool breeze blows. The green and blue haze of the ghost ship spills over the Vulture's deck, eating up the warmth of the lanterns' yellow light.

"My, my," Kirk Abram leans in. The lights shine over his decaying face - pale skin with splotches of black with swelling at odd places. The reality of this walking corpse slowly dawns on Eleanore as her eyes take in his muddied clothing, the brown stain imprinted on his shirt where her rapier pierced his stomach, and his haunting, glazed yellow eyes that stare back at her. 

"The little birdie is all mine." 

Eleanore gasps, stepping back. She runs towards the bow and takes stock of the situation."Gaaah!" The undead crew of the ghost ship swarm the deck like bugs, all bent on doing one thing.

Kill every living soul.

Deal with them first, Abram second. Eleanore gathers her magic, calling on the shadows.

Swish! A blade slices the air. She opens her eyes and raises her rapier, deftly blocking a deadly blow from Abram's cutlass. "Hngh." Her teeth grind against each other as she pushes all her weight to his blade.

"That's it, struggle," the dead captain sneers, barely making an effort. "Struggle until you cannot even lift a little pinky and I will tear you to pieces!" She grasps the handle with both hands, her heart pounding hard against her chest.

"I killed you once," Eleanore rasps, "I will kill you again!"

He scoffs. "Now I see why Del Santo would rather die than give you away. You have many talents."

Kirk withdraws, pulling Eleanore forward by sheer force. She ducks and lands on the port gunwale with a thud. He leaps, cutlass shining under the silvery moonlight.

Her blood freezes in her veins, making Eleanore's fingers clam on the pommel of her rapier.

Clank!

Their blades cling to each other, with Eleanore sliding back on the floorboards in a vain attempt to stand on her shaking legs. "Out of ideas?" Kirk taunts, his yellow eyes eerily glowing under the moonlight. "Such a shame. What unpolished technique! And to think your captain was a fine, noble fencer!"

"Shut up and fight!" She pulls up her leg and kicks his shin. "Ah!"

The pain reverberates through her bones. She curls against the gunwale, hearing the distant sounds of clashing blades as the numbness wrings her feet and legs. Her rapier falls on the deck. Eleanore miscalculated.

Kirk is already dead and virtually invincible by virtue of his contract with the Sea-Devil that his shin is pure steel.

"Hahaha," he laughs, leveling the tip of his blade against her chin. "I'll give it to you girl, you are foolishly brave!"

Bang! Bang! Slash!

"Ah!" The screams of the crew members falling to the undead mix with the deafening gunfire and blades clinking. Howls pry Eleanore's attention away from Kirk's threatening weapon under her face.

Her heart cannot take it. "What do you want?" she demands. "Leave them alone! It's me you want! Take me!" All the while, she is quietly harnessing magic in her palms.

"Ah? That easily?" Kirk grins, placing his foot between her legs. He pushes the tip of the blade, lifting it so that she looks up at him. Eleanore holds her breath. "I want nothing more than to kill you. But that is a boring outcome. You must suffer...Suffer, like what you have done to me! Look what you did to me!" He points a swollen, purple finger to his bruised and blackened face. "You should not have interfered with us, girl - Ah!"