Revelation upon revelation. It seemed Gwythr’s spies were turning up all sorts of intel – more than that, her quarry’s presence in this forest was suddenly explained, though not in the way she had hoped. Croe sighed.
“Your lives, you mean?” One dark eyebrow arched, her tone flat, but not unkind. Croe didn’t know what Gwythr had intended for these two, other than a brutal interrogation. When they no longer served a purpose for him, she doubted he’d have let them go on their merry way. Especially not if he was already burning down their ship…
Shaking her head, Croe rose fluidly to her feet, replacing the glove she’d removed to heal Nettie. Her eyes scanned the trees, apparently distracted – in truth, she was mulling over the choice in front of her. That was quite enough heroism for one day, frankly, and pirates were loathe to be indebted to others. Particularly other pirates. Especially one with her history of playing every side, of having no allegiances, of disposing of people when it suited her. She’d already stepped in when their lives were on the line, anything more would be overkill, surely?
But a burning ship was a burning ship, and Croe knew what a ship could represent.
Besides, how useful could they be to her, without a ship? Less.
“Well. Since I am apparently possessed by the spirit of charity today…” she pinched the bridge of her nose, frowning as if this was an extremely painful admission. After a pregnant pause, she reached down to hoist Nettie to her feet, and did not release the girl’s hand. She held the other out to Ghede. “I suppose we’d better save your ship.”
Or what’s left of it. She looked sideways at Nettie, since the girl seemed to be the more cooperative of the two. “Where was it last?” With the location secured, shadows began to twine down Croe’s arms and across the twins’, wrapping and enveloping them with her power. At the edges of everyone’s vision, the world went out of focus.
“Been a while since I last spoke to Dracerdis. I wonder if he’ll be happy to see me…”
A loud crack like thunder, then darkness, which persisted even as the world resolved from a blur into hard reality. The only light was a riot of orange, coalescing just offshore. The flames of the burning Drakon.
Croe dropped their hands, stepping forward. It took moments for her eyes to adjust – she was accustomed to darkness and teleportation and smoke and fire, the latter of which she focused on, holding a hand out to steady herself. The flames were extensive; she’d need a great deal of concentration to put them out…concentration that she did not have, her black eyes taking in the whole scene before her and landing on the prone body of a woman in the sand. She clenched her hand into a fist and the flames froze in place, their chaos temporarily arrested. Then she bent down to feel the woman’s neck for a pulse.
“She’s alive,” Croe pronounced, looking between them. “I can help with her or the ship, but not both at the same time.” As if on cue, the fractured mast snapped and plunged into the surf, extinguishing its flames with a hiss.
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