Shiver Her Timbers: The Plundered Chronicles Read online

  “Three rings,” Innis said, arms churning as he ran. “Are ya ready, Callaghan?”

  “Aye, Innis. I am more than ready.” But she wasn’t quite sure for what.

  * * *

  The Malendroke was only half filled with her crew when Grace gave the order to set sail. No one said a word as they pulled away from Castle Bay’s pier and back into the harsh Atlantic.

  When the castle was well out of view, Grace gave the order. “Get as close to the shore as ya can, Innis. Callaghan, ya and yer group are first off.”

  “Aye, Captain.”

  With ropes at the ready, Quinn and two dozen other crew members, including One Eye, Connor, Murphy, and Fitz, rappelled into the freezing water and swam the hundred or so yards to shore. By the time they stood in waist-deep water, the second group followed them into the ocean.

  “Fer a minute there, I thought––” Fitz started.

  “She would have left had he not taken the ships. He underestimated her fer sure.”

  “And that’ll be the death of him.”

  Quinn nodded. “Him and many others, I’m afraid. The phrase fer a woman keeps ringin’ in my head. He shouldn’t have gone there.”

  Dripping wet, the Irishmen made their way to the nearest road and waited for Grace and the others to join them.

  “Well met, men. It’s time we have a little practice, and these Barrians are gonna see what happens when someone takes our ships.”

  “What about Innis?”

  Grace grinned maliciously. “He’s takin’ the Malendroke back to Castle Bay. The Scots will turn their attention to the ship and divide their focus.”

  “Ya don’t think the Barrians stand a chance, do ya?”

  Grace shook her head. “There are too many of them fer the galloglaighs to be successful. We’re gonna even the odds.”

  Grace’s crew took off toward Castle Bay at a decent jog. “Callaghan, ya get the Breeze out of the bay. I’ll take the Mystery. Get as many of the Highlanders on yers as ya can.”

  “Aye.”

  As they rounded the corner to the beginning of the village, they all came to a dead stop.

  The Barrians hadn’t intended on facing the Highlanders at all. Instead, they had blocked all of the doors and had set fire to the tavern with all of the galloglaighs inside.

  “Bloody cocksuckers,” One Eye muttered. “They’ll burn alive.”

  The flames leapt high, and the shouts of the galloglaighs could be heard as they started chopping at the sides of the tavern.

  “No they won’t.” Quinn sprinted off, hearing Grace calling her name as she did—but Quinn did not look back. Instead, she put her head down and ran faster toward the back end of the flaming tavern.

  As she neared the burning building, she desperately looked for Evan and the other four laoch cuidiches, hoping that maybe they had stayed outside. “Evan!” she yelled, cupping her hands to her mouth. “Evan!”

  “In here, Cap! Help us! We canna get out!”

  Pulling her sword, Quinn cut down the first Barrian she came to. Her sword dripped with his blood as she cut down the second man. The heat from the burning wood was intense but not enough to slow her down as she fought her way to the side of the building.

  “Evan! I’m comin’!”

  The next man got his sword up in time to deflect her sword blow. The metal clanged loudly, and as a fourth joined the fight, Quinn knew she was in trouble.

  A third man leapt into the fray, and now Quinn was surrounded. Smoke billowed from the tavern, and she could hear men coughing and yelling for help.

  A fourth man ran toward Quinn, so she attacked the first and waited to see which of the other three would come at her.

  She did not have to wait long. Grace jumped into the fray and cut the fourth down with a single blow. “Callaghan, get the door! Get to the door!”

  Quinn peeled away from the second fighter and saw the door had a wagon in front of it. It, too, was on fire. She could hear something banging against the door from within. The heat was unbearable as she stepped away from the wagon. Her eyes watered as smoke crept up her nostrils.

  They would all die in there if she couldn’t figure something out quickly.

  “Hurry, Cap!”

  There was a lot of coughing, a lot of yelling, more cursing.

  Quinn stood back and looked at the wagon. Then she glanced around to see where it had come from. When she spotted another, she yelled at her men to get behind it.

  “We’re pushin’ it into the tavern!” Quinn yelled. “Evan, step away from the door! Get everra man away from the front door!” Then she turned back to her men. “Give it everrathin’ ya got, fellas, or those men in there will die. Right into the wall! Put yer shoulders into it!” Stepping behind the wagon, Quinn pushed with the other six men.

  The wagon rolled swiftly to the tavern and crashed through a wall weakened by the fire. The entire side of the building collapsed on top of the wagon just as the Barrians attacked Quinn and the others from behind.

  Sword met sword, and Quinn’s men pushed back until two of her men went down with arrows protruding from their heads. As the bowmen swung toward Quinn, she knew she was done. As they drew their strings back, so many thoughts flew past her mind’s eye. Gallagher, Fiona, Becca, Kennedy, Shea, Grace. So many people had touched her heart––her life. She could only hope the––

  Suddenly, an odd sound whipped by her ear. At first, she thought it was an errant arrow, but when the bowman’s chest exploded in a spray of red, she realized the dagger embedded in his chest had come from behind her.

  The second bowman was nearly cleaved in half by a well-thrown ax that hit with such force he flew eight feet backwards, landing on his back with a thud, the enormous ax protruding from his chest.

  As Quinn looked over her shoulder, she saw Lake and several others leaping through the flaming opening, sparths swinging, swords raised, battle cry filling the air. They sped by Quinn so quickly she barely had time to realize what was happening as the galloglaighs streamed out of the burning building, attacking every Barrian dumb enough not to run away.

  And many realized, too late, that Grace’s crew was the least of their concerns.

  When Lake burst through the opening with Evan thrown over his shoulder, he looked like a crazed animal. His hair was singed and his eyes were the murderous eyes of a man who had lost something precious and intended on drawing blood for vengeance.

  “Lake!”

  Lake swung his head around, ready to kill, when he recognized Quinn.

  “Is he...” Quinn couldn’t bear to say the word. At that moment, she realized that she did, in fact, care more than she should about the little laoch known as Evan.

  Gently laying Evan in Quinn’s arms, Lake said, “Not dead. Knocked on the head. Take care of him with yer life, Captain.” With that, he bounded after a man he nearly cut in half with one might swing of his bloody sparth.

  Quinn looked around and saw a group of five barrels. Quickly getting behind them, she lowered Evan to the ground. Blood from the back of Evan’s head remained on Quinn’s hands. She did not care; she was so glad that she was that he was alive. “You’re going to be all right,” Quinn whispered, staring down into Evan’s peaceful face. He was such a pretty boy, this tiny Scotsman.

  “Callaghan, look out!” someone called to her.

  Quinn barely got her sword up in time to deflect a blow that would surely have killed her.

  Rising to her feet, she held her long sword out toward her attacker, who slashed at her with his short sword. She parried the blow and in one smooth motion pulled her throwing knife from its sheath and flicked an underhand toss at him. The blade stuck in his thigh and only served to make him angrier.

  “Fuckin’ Irish piece of donkey shit!” the Barrian yelled, coming at Quinn with both blades whirling.

  She deflected the long sword, evaded the short sword, then brought the hilt around and clocked him in the cheekbone with it. His face split like a too-ripe toma
to, but he was far from down.

  He was also no longer alone.

  Another Barrian joined him.

  “Ya and yer arse buddy there are gonna taste Scottish metal, laddie boy.”

  Quinn tried to back away, but Evan was directly behind her. She had no place to go and no room to maneuver.

  “Ya two better be the best ya got, or yer wives will be widows this night.”

  The second man came at her head, their swords sparking from the strength of his blow.

  She knew the first man would be swinging right about now, but she could not turn her attention from her attacker, who was preparing to deliver a second blow when the first Barrian fell dead at his feet, a short sword protruding from his gut.

  The slight hesitation gave Quinn the opening she needed. Turning a full circle, she cut his head off with one clean stroke. Pulling the short sword from the first Scot’s stomach, Quinn saw it was hers.

  Glancing behind her, she realized Evan had come to long enough to use it before passing out once more.

  The Barrian’s sword sliced through Quinn’s left shoulder, spinning her completely around. Dropping to the ground, she sliced a backhand swing at her third attacker, lodging her sword into his shinbone.

  He went down next to her, and she drove her right elbow into his face, crushing his nose and sending blood spewing everywhere. The Scot, whose leg bone still stuck onto her sword, grabbed her neck with both hands and rolled on top of her, his weight pinning her to the ground.

  The ground.

  The place she was most vulnerable. She had neither the strength nor the weight to win this battle as she struggled to wrench his hands from her neck.

  His blood dripped onto her face as he began squeezing the life out of her. His face leered angrily at her as he leaned into the chokehold. “Die ya piece-of-shite Irishman.”

  Suddenly, he was thrown off her like he was nothing more than a rag doll.

  “Not today, lad,” Lake said, bringing his sparth down on the man’s neck. “Or enna day from here on out.”

  Quinn coughed, inhaled air, and rolled over on her hands and knees. Her throat burned, but she was alive to feel it and was grateful for it.

  “It’s all right now, Captain. The beasts have fled.” Lake helped Quinn to her feet and patted her back. “Fled like the cowards they are.”

  Nodding, Quinn straightened up as Lake yanked her sword free of the Barrian’s shinbone and handed it back to her.

  “Thank ya.”

  Lake knelt down to look at Evan’s head. “He’s bleedin’ pretty badly, but he’s alive because of ya. We all are.”

  “Everraone back to the ships!” Grace ordered. “Now, before they return with their cousins and uncles!”

  As everyone scrambled for their respective ships, Quinn watched Lake pick up Evan like he was nothing more than a child. “Take him to my quarters,” she instructed. “The men will tell ya where it is.”

  “He needs a physician.”

  Grace ran up to them, spewing curses along the way. “We picked up a physician in Killybeg. I’ll send him over from the Mal. Now get a move on, Giant. I’ll not tell ya twice.”

  Quinn and Lake took off for the Breeze. She could barely keep up with him, even though he ran holding Evan.

  When they reached the ship, Quinn stopped and turned back toward the completely engulfed tavern. From where she stood, she could see the Scottish reinforcements coming toward the docks. There were at least one hundred, maybe more, and they were coming with torches.

  “Captain! The fire!”

  Grace helped one of her injured crew to his feet before looking in the direction Quinn was pointing. She understood what Quinn meant.

  They were going to set the ships on fire.

  “Pull out, Callaghan! Get that ship out of here!”

  Quinn started up the plank when it dawned on her: Grace had no intention of boarding that ship without all of her men. It was just her way in the world... a captain’s way that Quinn decided then and there that she was going to emulate.

  Leave no one behind.

  Cupping her hands to her mouth, she yelled up at Connor, “Take her out! Now! Do not wait!”

  Connor hesitated before nodding and issuing orders. The oars came to life and the Breeze slowly started pulling away.

  Just before the gangplank fell into the bay, Lake and two other galloglaighs ran back down it to join Quinn.

  “What in the hell are ya doin’?”

  Lake fairly sneered. “The three of us have never run from a fight, Captain. We aren’t aboot to start now, regardless of yer commands.”

  Quinn glanced over at the far entrance to the town. The Barrians were about a hundred yards away.

  “Goddamn it, Callaghan, I gave ya an order!” Grace barked as she half dragged, half carried a wounded crew member to them. “Where the bloody hell is Tavish? I saw him take off down a side street and––”

  The sound of horse’s hooves made them all turn, weapons at the ready.

  Sitting with reins in hand atop a flatbed carriage was Tavish. “Load ’em in fast as ya can, or we can kiss our arses goodbye.”

  While Lake and his two huge buddies loaded up half a dozen wounded, Grace checked those on the ground for signs of life.

  “Captain, we have to get out of here,” Tavish said. “Right now, or we’ll be joinin’ those on the ground.”

  Quinn nodded. “Get on!”

  Reluctantly, Grace hopped into the back of the wagon, sword drawn, blood on her face and arms. “Castle Bay has not seen the last of us,” Grace uttered under her breath.

  It was at that moment Quinn saw one of her men move on the ground and hold an arm up in the air.

  It was One Eye.

  “Don’t stop the wagon!” Grace commanded as she leapt from the back of the moving wagon. She hit the ground, rolled, came up, and sprinted toward One Eye.

  “That woman,” Lake said, shaking his head, “has the heart of a galloglaigh.”

  “Stop the wagon!” Quinn ordered.

  “Lad––ya heard her. She told us not to stop.”

  “Stop. The. Wagon.” Quinn pulled her sword out. “We live together or we die together, but we do not leave our captain behind.”

  Even before the wagon could stop, the three galloglaighs leapt from it, followed by Quinn.

  But she knew the Barrians would reach Grace before she could get One Eye to safety.

  If she were going to die, she’d rather die fighting alongside Grace O’Malley than running from a bunch of disloyal Scotsmen.

  “Callaghan, if we live through this, I’m leavin’ ya at the next port.” Grace held both her swords in front of her. “Ya never obey my commands.”

  Quinn held up her short sword. “Sir, if we live through this, I want a raise in pay.”

  With One Eye being dragged back to the wagon between the two Highlanders, Quinn, Grace, and Lake stood with weapons at the ready.

  “There must be over a hundred of them,” Grace said.

  “I’ve had worse odds,” Lake replied. “Just keep ’em in front of us, and we’ll be fine. If they surround us it will be harder to kill them.”

  Quinn and Grace both just stared at him.

  Lake offered them a rare smile as he winked. “The gods haven’t let me down yet.”

  And apparently they weren’t going to this time, either.

  The loud boom of cannon fire was followed by bodies and body parts flying in the air as the guns on the Malendroke shot ball after ball upon the oncoming Barrians, scattering them like pins as the cannons continued spewing, devastating half of the Barrians as those untouched ran for cover.

  “Come on!” Grace yelled, pulling Quinn and Lake with her. “That is our exit.”

  The three ran hard as Tavish slowed the wagon down and waited for them to jump on board. As soon as Grace yanked Quinn up, Tavish slapped the horses with the reins and they took off running.

  “Come on, ya bags of bones, get a move on!”


  Grace leaned over One Eye. He held his abdomen with one hand. Blood oozed between his fingers. “Hang on, damn ya,” Grace said, pushing on his hands with hers. “Don’t ya die on me, Eye.”

  “Sorry... Captain.”

  “Don’t be a dolt. Ya fought as bravely as ever, my friend, but if ya die, I’ll never forgive ya.”

  Quinn crawled over the other wounded to sit next to Tavish. She set her bloody sword on her lap but did not release the hilt. “Don’t slow down fer ennabody. If ennaone approaches the wagon, I’ll take care of them. Just get us to... to––”

  Grace looked up from One Eye. “The next pier. Innis will pick us up there.”

  Tavish nodded, keeping his hands tight on the reins.

  Quinn tensed every time she saw someone near the wagon, but the longer they were on the road, the fewer folks she saw. “Yer doin’ well,” Quinn said, laying her head on Tavish’s shoulder. “But I think ya can slow down now.”

  Tavish shook his head. “Not yet. Not until we reach the dock.”

  “Callaghan is right, Tavish. Slow down. Ya will run the horses into the ground, and we need to reach port safely.”

  When Tavish slowed down some, Grace returned her attention to the wounded men.

  Lake knelt over One Eye and pulled his hands off his wound. He studied the wound a moment. “He’ll die if we canna stop the bleedin’.”

  Grace leaned over and looked at the wound. “No. He will not die. Ya hear me, Eye? I forbid it.”

  But One Eye was no longer conscious.

  “Pull over up there!” Lake ordered. “Under that sycamore tree.”

  “No,” Grace countered. “We must get him to the ship, or he will die.”

  “He’ll die before then. Ya must trust me, Captain. If we do not stop the bleeding, this night shall be his last.”

  Grace looked to Quinn, who nodded. “I trust him, Captain.”

  “Do as he says, Tavish. Pull over.”

  When the wagon stopped, Lake jumped up and grabbed a large tree limb and hauled himself up into the tree.

  “What in the––”

  “Sap. I need sap.” Luke reached into a hole in the trunk and withdrew a handful before climbing back down. “Hold him.”