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The thin, squeaky voice matched a lanky figure with bushy hair and a panicked look in his eye. Whereas the others focused on battling the crew, this guy held up his trembling sword and pointed.
“It’s a trap. We were deliberately forced up here. Let’s go back down and lock everything up.”
The ones near him swiveled into motion, abandoning the fight. Marko and Wheeler jumped to stop them. The rest screamed out their protest.
“Stand your ground,” a thicker, lower voice boomed out before a bulky figure elbowed his way to the center. Blood stained his clothes, and a crazed look glinted on his features.
“No,” the lanky man protested. “We need to get away—”
A sword was plunged into his neck before he could proceed. He vomited blood and crumpled to the ground while the bulky man stepped on his chest to pull out the sword.
“I’m second-in-command now. Stand your ground,” the man ordered. “Fan out. Call the others’ attention.”
Isaiah didn’t like the trumpet sound that followed next, carried by the wind. He gestured at Maddox to find the person blowing it, then strolled over to the bulky man, who scowled at him.
“Hey, fella. How about you tell us where your captain is and surrender?”
The man took out another sword and pointed the two at him as they circled each other.
“You will regret this.”
“Will I?”
“The captain will make you regret this. He has all the means in the world. You might think you won, but he will take those you love the most when you least expect it.”
A sickening dread filled him when he noted the man’s gleeful expression and realized who this was: Pan the second, a carbon copy of the first’s cruelty and loyalty.
“I suppose you were there to witness it happen enough to be that confident.”
“It will happen to you. You will see blood everywhere you go and fear the captain in your sleep. Our pirate lord will reign supreme. By the time he’s done with you, you will have no one left—”
“Too late. He already took what I loved.”
The man blinked, not expecting Isaiah to move that fast until the deep gash was already gushing blood. Isaiah watched the man fall to his knees and swipe wildly, then crawl away and use the others to block Isaiah from coming after him. Even then the man didn’t stop, managing to take down a co-pirate before he succumbed to his wounds.
“Selfish until death,” he muttered. But then again, that was the life of a pirate.
“Captain! Yer back!”
Isaiah heeded the warning and elbowed the attacker’s face before the man could get the knife in. Then the repeated honking carried in the air louder than ever and made him realize the rainstorm was ending.
“Regroup,” he called out to his men. Not a second later, a second wave of pirates came from below deck, much more equipped with weapons than the first. They were calmer, too, no longer caught off guard, as they formed a curved line and approached.
“Third wave,” Marko spat out, narrowing his gaze at the space behind the second line. Sure enough, there was a third group of men climbing out. “Surrounded.”
“Stay together,” Isaiah warned. “Get ready to leave the ship.”
“But—”
“Get ready to leave the ship, Marko. I need you alive in case things go south.”
Marko’s expression hardened at Isaiah’s command, but there was no protest. The waves of men tightened them into a corner, not noticing that behind them was their escape route. They also didn’t know that Isaiah was missing one man, who had hidden somewhere on the deck.
“Stand your ground,” Isaiah reminded at the continuous approach. The men’s wariness disappeared at their lack of movement.
“Kill them all,” someone said from the back, an order that was repeated until the others were screaming it and running.
Alvin shuddered. Wheeler shouted obscenities. Marko’s sword clanged with the first pirate who reached them. A sheen formed a dome around them, and the two clashing swords were pushed apart by a magnetic force.
