Steel (16 page)

Then Captain Cooper joined them. “Tadpole, you’ll need to get Blane’s sword from the chest. We’re going to see about mending it.”

T
he crew had a former blacksmith among them—Tennant, it turned out. But before they could mend the sword, they had to see about building a makeshift forge on the deck of the
Diana
—without damaging the ship. They didn’t dare put into land on one of the scattered islands. Blane would reach them before they’d even brought the equipment to shore. They had to keep moving.

They managed to build a forge using the stove from the galley and cannonballs to protect the deck. Tennant lit the fire and put crew to work keeping it stoked.

Hands trembling, Jill fetched the sword from the captain’s strongbox. As the weapon came into the light, the steel seemed to gleam more brightly, light singing off the edge. She ran a finger along the flat of the blade, then along the curve of the hilt. Trying to feel any power coming off it, listening for some message. It may have been her imagination that the metal had a reddish tinge. She couldn’t help but think of the story behind the sword, and she almost dropped it back into the trunk. Maybe Cooper was right, and they should just get rid of it.

But what if it really was the key?

On deck, Captain Cooper met her near the forge, now blazing with heat, and produced the broken tip of the blade.

“I’m still not sure this is the right thing to do,” Cooper said.

Jill glanced at the sword and her heart ached. This was all she could think of. The alternative was running away, farther and farther from where she belonged with every mile.

“I’m not sure, either,” she admitted. “But we have to try.”

“Aye,” the captain said. Then her lips turned in the smile she donned before battle. “We’ll finish the ruddy bastard off once and for all. What say you, ready to give Blane’s sword back to him point first?”

The crew cheered. Jill raised the broken sword and shouted with them.

They gave the two pieces to Tennant, who seemed daunted, his lips pursed and grim. The gunnery mate used a tong to set the lengths of steel into the stove, then stripped off his shirt and tied it around his waist.

A barrel of water waited nearby, secured to the mast to keep it steady, in case a fire broke out.

Meanwhile, the rest of the crew worked to keep the ship away from Blane and the
Heart’s Revenge
for as long as it took to repair the sword.

Captain Cooper steered them into a network of islands, part of some ancient mountain range where only the peaks emerged from the water. Navigating around the verdant, jutting islands and reefs slowed their progress, but Blane would have a harder time following them. So Cooper hoped, and for a time the
Heart’s Revenge
fell behind. They hid behind islands, then changed their course, hoping to be well ahead by the time Blane realized he was going the wrong way.

“He’ll loop around the whole mess, I’ll wager, catch us as we come out of this,” Abe said, his hands tight on the wheel at the helm, watching the path carefully. Several of the crew kept watch, shouting out directions and noting obstacles, reefs and sandbars.

“Perhaps. But to do that he’s got to guess where we’ll come out,” Cooper said.

Jill wondered if Blane could sense his sword. He wouldn’t have to guess, he’d just know where it was and feel it traveling toward him.

Over a dinner of boiled stew and hard bread, sitting near the bowsprit, Jill told Henry her fears.

After considering a moment, Henry said, “If such a thing were possible, Blane could do it.”

“Then it doesn’t matter what we do. He’ll always find us, and he’ll overpower us no matter what.”

“You told the captain you could beat him using that sword,” he said.

“But I don’t know if I can,” she admitted. Saying it aloud seemed to make her losing the fight more likely, and she suddenly lost her appetite.

“Then it was a trick,” he said after a moment. “You just want the sword because you think it’ll get you out of here, and it isn’t about Blane at all.”

“No, that’s not true.” At least, she didn’t think it was true. She couldn’t look at him.

“Look, if you don’t think you can beat him, you shouldn’t fight him,” Henry said.

“You’d have to be brilliant to beat him,” she said, thinking back to the one fight, trying to pick apart his style. He’d been toying with her. It wasn’t enough for her to have a strong defense. She had to be able to counterattack. “He’s fast and smart—I tried to attack, but he always seemed to know exactly what I was doing, where I was going to put my sword, even before I knew, like he could read my mind. Henry, he’s really good.”

“I know I wouldn’t want to fight him. I couldn’t beat him. He’s never lost a duel.”

Jill had been in tournaments with fencers whose reputations preceded them, where the whispers passed through locker rooms and along team benches.
She’s never been beaten, she’s never lost a bout.
And if you listened to those rumors you’d already lost. This was the same, Jill thought.

As much as this was about skill and talent, this was a mind game.

The crew kept to the edges of the ship, against the sides, away from the heat and noise in the center of the deck. Tennant was still working, hammering at the sword, steel on steel. The noise of it rattled above the snapping of sails and splash of waves.

The ship rounded a spit of island as the sun set, turning the ocean a molten pewter color. Tennant still hammered at the sword, and Jill wished this didn’t have to take so long. It wasn’t just a matter of gluing one piece of steel to another—the tip would only break off again the first time she hit anything. Tennant had to reforge the blade. Get the steel hot enough that it became malleable, so that the two pieces could be hammered together, merged, making the molecular structure of the metal continuous. When he was finished, if he knew what he was doing, the break wouldn’t simply be mended—it would vanish, as if it had never been, and the blade would be as strong as ever.

Then she could fight with it.

Jill had been trying to sleep on deck—no one was lingering belowdecks, except the surgeon, who was still locked in his closet. No one was sleeping much, either. People kept looking over the water for the
Heart’s Revenge
. When the night turned still, with only the waves and sails as background noise, Jill needed a moment to notice, for the clanging of hammer on steel to fade from her ears. Tennant had finished.

She clambered to her feet and raced to the central deck. Tennant was holding the sword tip-down in the barrel of water. The fire in the forge was flickering out.

“It’s done?” she asked.

He glanced at her. Even in the cool breeze, his whole body was slick with sweat, his tan skin shining with it, his trousers soaked through. The scarf tied around his head, meant to keep sweat out of his eyes, was itself dripping. His shoulders dropped, weary, and his smile was weak. But he smiled.

“Not quite yet, lass. The blade needs an edge.”

Jill sighed. Behind them, the shadow of an island loomed, painted charcoal under the light of the stars and moon. The
Heart’s Revenge
was on the other side, presumably coming around to chase them down.

“There isn’t time,” she said.

“The Captain’ll keep us ahead of the dog, just you see.” Tennant left the sword cooling in the barrel, then went to sit down and take a long drink from a mug.

At dawn, she climbed the mainmast to keep the next watch. The island they’d passed in the night was a haze on the horizon; the next was approaching to starboard, and Cooper was plotting a course that would take them around the windward side of it.

Jill called down when the
Heart’s Revenge
came into view. All its sails were hoisted, a vast field of white gleaming in the rising sun.

“How’s it coming, Tennant?” the captain called. The smith was on deck, working to sharpen the blade, polishing the edge with a stone.

“Need more time, sir!” he called back. Their voices were distant, echoing. Jill felt removed from it all, drifting above the ships and the action. Now if she could just float away….

“Right, let’s keep the bastard running!”

The ship tipped until Jill was hanging over the water, and she tightened her grip on the rope. If she fell, she’d hit the waves instead of the
Diana
’s deck. The ship caught a better wind and leaped over waves. They were flying now. Despite all its masts and sails, the
Heart’s Revenge
was bigger, less maneuverable, less able to tack into winds and steer around the maze of islands. The
Diana
should have pulled ahead. They should have been able to outrun Blane.

But his ship kept coming closer.

Jill gripped one of the shroud lines and lowered herself hand over hand, balancing with her feet, fast and sure, not even thinking of it, so much more confident than she had been those first days. Almost like this was home.

“Captain!” she called, running to the helm. “He’s gaining!”

“Never!” Abe said. “Not in that lumbering monster!”

Cooper went to the side and looked through the spyglass. She studied the view for a long moment, and when she turned back to the helm, her expression was thoughtful. “Blane’s never played by the same rules as the rest of us. He expects to chase us down and have his way with us like one of his port whores. That’s it, then. We’ll have to do what he doesn’t expect.” She had a gleam in her eyes when she turned back to the deck. “Tennant!” she shouted.

“Not yet!” he called back. Jill wanted to scream.

“You’ve no more time, lad!” she said. “He wants a fight, we’ll ram it down his throat. Tadpole, you still up for it?”

“Aye,” Jill breathed.

“We’re not going to wait for him, we’re going to put ourselves in his lap before he knows we’re coming and take the wind from him,” the captain said. “Man the cannons! Not you, Tennant.”

The thunder and chaos of a ship preparing for battle began.

Even with the sword ready, Jill wouldn’t have anything to do until the real battle began. In order to fight Blane, the ships would have to draw up alongside each other. She’d have to board the
Heart’s Revenge
. With all the cannon fire and fighting, she might not ever reach Blane to fight him.

She climbed back into the rigging to take up the watch again as the battle approached.

“Hoist the colors!”

There was Henry, running the black flag on its line up the mainmast. The skull on it seemed to grin.

“And ready the cannons!”

From on high, Jill looked back at the
Heart’s Revenge
. It had seemed to stall, but that may have only been because the
Diana
had changed direction and the two ships were now circling each other, keeping their distance. The shore of the distant island slipped by, showing that they really were moving.

Abe shouted into the rigging; Jill barely heard him. It was newly learned habits that told her what to do to put the sails in place. The ship heeled and turned, leaving off tacking and putting the wind full behind it. The
Diana
jumped and lurched, spray flying up past the hull and into the rigging as if the ship itself were eager.

Cooper was steering them into place for a broadside. They only needed to get within range. The slots in the sides opened; the cannons rolled forward.

The
Heart’s Revenge
’s cannons were more powerful, with a longer range, and they fired first. But the
Diana
had stayed pointed toward the enemy, offering a slender profile. The shots hit wide and splashed into the water. Abe called orders, spun the wheel, the
Diana
heaved over, and Cooper gave the order to fire. While the
Heart’s Revenge
reloaded, the
Diana
sailed within her own range. Explosions roared, and the air filled with the smoke of burned powder.

Jill was helpless. She could only wait and hope that the
Diana
wasn’t destroyed before they got close enough to board. That was Cooper’s plan, she could see: Dodge cannon fire. Get within range. Make boarding the only possibility. Ram the fight down Blane’s throat.

“Captain, it’s done!” That was Tennant’s cry. Jill raced down the lines to the deck, coughing through the smoke.

On deck, she found Cooper and Tennant standing together. Tennant held a now-whole sword in both hands. Even amidst the smoke from the cannons, it shone silver and powerful. The blacksmith set it in the captain’s waiting hands. She looked it up and down, studying it, smiling faintly. “The red in it’s gone, do you see that?”

She was right; the bloody sheen had disappeared. Maybe they’d destroyed the curse, claimed the sword for their own.

“You’ve done a very fine job,” Cooper said.

“I shouldn’t have been able to do it all,” Tennant said. “I didn’t have the right heat, the right tools—but it’s like it wanted to be whole again. It wanted to be mended.”

“Blood magic,” the captain whispered.

Jill would hold this newly made sword and know how to get home—she knew it. “Captain,” Jill said, sounding a little too desperate.

Cooper frowned; her hand moved to the grip, tightened. Thinking of the past, perhaps. Of what she could do with the power of the sword—of taking her revenge on Blane. And Jill didn’t think she could blame Cooper if the captain decided to take on Blane herself, whether or not Jill lost her way home.

But the moment passed, and Captain Cooper held the sword, grip first, to Jill. “We’re going to need every blade we have, won’t we?”

Jill took the weapon, one hand on the hilt, other hand careful of the sharpened edge. She couldn’t find where the break had been. The blade was healed, extending long and unbroken to a deadly point. The engravings were gone, hammered clean by Tennant’s work. The sword was smooth, fresh, reborn. It sat heavy in her hands, but balanced. Dangerous. Her arm felt powerful, holding it—like the tingle she’d felt when she first found the shard, but more. She couldn’t tell if the power came from the blade, or from the knowledge that she held an extraordinary sword.