The Sea Wolf Chronicles: Blood on the Tide

2. A New Threat

The pirates scattered as a second crack split the air, the lethal iron ball kicking up a small cloud of earth mere inches from where Ryker sought cover. He cursed and spat into the sand, his carefully orchestrated raid almost foiled by this intruder. His men were thrown into disarray, rushing to cover while giving voice to an equal mix of panic and anger.

'Hold together lads!' Ryker shouted over the din, ducking as a shot split the wooden sign overhead. 'Someone find that bastard and bring me his head!'

More harsh cracks echoed across the beach as his men answered with their pistols. The shooting stopped after a few minutes; the sniper forced to shelter from the sheer volume of fire. His men capitalised on the momentary respite, swarming forwards with a unified shout of rage. Ryker's first mate, a hulking man that went by the name Ghore, led the charge with his boarding axe, his coal-black skin shining in the Caribbean sun. He roared incoherently as he went, the numerous piercings on his bare upper body glistening like liquid gold. The braver, or foolhardy, amongst the crew followed close behind, while the more shrewd kept a respectable distance from the living mountain. Ryker silently applauded their judgement, as standing close to Ghore in the heat of battle was almost as dangerous as facing him. It was a lesson learned through bitter experience and Ryker grimaced as his right shoulder throbbed with phantom pain brought on by the memory.

'With me!' he yelled, motioning for the remaining pirates to follow him while breaking to the left.

Dry island grass crunched beneath his feet as he took a flanking route through a street where the white wooden buildings loomed haphazardly overhead and reduced the sunlight to a narrow strip on the dusty earth road. His followers branched out behind him, staying in a tight wedge formation that made best use of the available cover and avoided any potential extra snipers. They broke out into the open at a respectable speed and stopped dead at the sight that confronted them. The battle, it seemed, was already over.

Ghore stood alone, at least ten feet from the nearest person, and it was clear that something had him riled. He stood there breathing heavily for several long seconds before swinging his axe into the nearest building with a guttural roar. The men edged away a substantial distance, though it was more through fear of Ghore than the dagger-sized splinters that were sent spinning into the air.

'Ghore!' Ryker called, striding closer. He stopped short when the warrior turned to face him with a look like an enraged bull. 'What in hell is wrong with you?'

'I had him,' Ghore growled, his anger blurring out some vowel sounds. He motioned with the head of his axe to a nearby mound and, now that Ryker had chance to concentrate, he could see little whisps of smoke curling up into the sky above it.

'Stay there and don't kill anyone,' he ordered, marching over to the mound. 'Let's find out who this bastard is'