A Good Man Awakens

Chapter 14: Back to the world of Men

Suddenly, the ship lurched, a violent crack cutting through the howling wind. Kree's head snapped toward the small windows behind his head, just in time to see the mainmast split with a thunderous crack. The mast leaned dangerously to the side, the rigging snapping like whips as the wind roared through the sails. Shouts of alarm rang out across the deck as the crew scrambled into action.

"Damn it!" Kree cursed, running to the main deck leaving Ragan in his chains. "The mast! Get those sails down before we're capsized!"

The first mate appeared at his side, panic etched on his weathered face. "The mainmast's gone, Captain! We'll lose control if we don't act fast!"

Kree's mind raced. Losing the mast could spell disaster, especially in these unpredictable waters. But he wasn't about to let his ship, the greatest vessel ever built, go down without a fight.

"Get the men up there! We need to rig a temporary sail—use the foresail and the jib to keep us moving." He barked out the orders, his voice cutting through the chaos. "And for gods' sake, someone get below and make sure the prisoner is still secured!"

The crew leapt into action, clambering up the rigging to cut loose the remaining shreds of sail flapping in the wind. Kree's hands were steady on the wheel, his eyes fixed on the distant horizon. The storm was growing, the clouds darkening like the hand of some forgotten god reaching out to drag them into the depths. But Kree wasn't one to give in easily.

"Haul the portside sails!" Kree commanded. "We'll lean into the wind and push her forward—keep her steady!"

The men strained against the ropes, the ship groaning under the pressure, but slowly, the sails caught the wind. The ship's momentum shifted, gliding forward once more, though not at full speed.

Kree gritted his teeth. The broken mast would slow them down, but his quick thinking had kept them from drifting helplessly. Time was still ticking, and he couldn't afford to lose any more of it.

As the crew worked furiously to rig a temporary solution, Kree turned his gaze toward his gabin. His gut twisted. He knew there was more to the prisoner than met the eye. Ragan had arrived, and everything had gone to hell. First, the strange tale, and now the ship itself seemed to be turning against them.

Below deck, Ragan sat in his chains, feeling the rhythm of the ship shift. His eyes opened slowly as he sensed the commotion above, the unnatural sway of the vessel telling him more than the creaks of the timber could. He had been on ships long enough to know when things were going wrong.

The door to the cabin creaked open, and one of the crewmen stumbled in, water dripping from his soaked clothes. His face was partially hidden beneath the shadow of his hood, but Ragan could see his eyes glint with something darker than mere suspicion. The man wasn't just wary—there was something else in his gaze. Malice.

The crewman's fingers fidgeted nervously at his belt, brushing against the hilt of a dagger. Ragan's instincts flared, but bound as he was, there was little he could do. He straightened, watching the man carefully, his muscles tensing against the chains.

"Captain Kree sent you?" Ragan asked, keeping his voice calm, though his mind raced.

The crewman didn't respond. Instead, he took a step closer, his boots splashing softly in the thin layer of water that had gathered on the floor. The ship groaned as it lurched in the storm, but the tension in the brig was far heavier than the rocking of the vessel.

The man's hand gripped the hilt of his dagger. "You don't deserve to live after what you've done. The Lord Acanist doesn't forget. He doesn't forgive."

Ragan's heart quickened. Lord Acanist—he should have known he would have his men on the ship, waiting for their chance. This one must have been biding his time, waiting for the perfect moment. And now, with the storm raging above and the mast shattered, chaos provided the perfect cover for murder.