Chapter Text
I'm mostly scared, I am mostly unprepared
I'm a mess
I lost most of myself as the waves came crashing down
I'm a wreck - "Mostly" Vian Izak and Juniper Vale
Phuwin bit back a pained hiss as his sore knees hit the smooth, bleached oak planks of the Jasper. He kept his head tilted down so that his sopping wet bangs veiled his face while the coarse rope that bound his hands behind his back bit into his raw skin.
Any other time, he'd be struggling against the knots, but it wasn't like he'd be able to use his hands much - he hadn't gotten a good look at his left wrist before he'd been captured, but the swelling promised it was broken.
Around him, the pirates let out a cheer. The rough hands on his shoulders squeezed tightly in a silent warning as two more bodies were shoved onto the deck beside him.
"Lieutenant," Fourth murmured quietly, "please tell me you have a plan."
On Phuwin's other side, Perth sucked in a sharp hiss of breath. "No titles," he reminded the cadet. "No ranks. If we want to get out of this alive-" His words cut off with a thump and a pained grunt as a heavy boot planted itself into the midshipman's ribs.
"Quiet," one of the pirates behind them barked. Phuwin grit his teeth. Titles wouldn't matter anyway. He was still wearing his damp officer's coat. Anyone who knew even a modicum about the Navy would recognize it immediately, and this ship's Captain-
"Now, now," a smooth, deep voice called over the crowd, "that's no way to treat a guest." The deck went silent as a pair of leather boots entered Phuwin's vision. He tensed, waiting for the boots to turn to him, but they continued until they stopped before Perth. "Do you have a name, sailor?"
Phuwin's blood ran cold. He knew how pirate crews, especially this pirate crew, operated. An Imperial sailor was a prize to them - one to be used for ransom at the nearest port. A midshipman, especially one with Perth's navigational skills, was the perfect bartering chip for supplies or prisoner swaps.
But the Tempest of the North?
Being the Navy's most lethal and successful pirate hunter was a death sentence. The moment the Captain realized who was kneeling on his deck, all thoughts of ransom or negotiations would vanish. The only greeting he'd get would be a blade or a bullet to the heart at best, unspeakable torture at worst… and his crewmen would go down with him by association.
"Perth," the midshipman gasped. His voice was still tight from the breath being driven out of him. "Navigator of the Maiden's Grace."
"The merchant vessel," one of the pirates who had dragged them aboard informed his Captain.
The leather boots creaked as their owner leaned back on his heels. "And what was a merchant ship doing traveling with a Naval escort, Perth?"
Phuwin bit his cheek hard enough that the taste of copper flooded his tongue. Don't answer, he prayed silently. His fingers twitched against the rope, instincts screaming at him to struggle, but he didn't move. If a fight broke out right now, he wouldn't be able to draw a blade, much less defend his crew.
Out of the corner of his eye, Phuwin saw Perth's jaw tense. The midshipman looked down and away, his gaze firmly planted on the deck.
The leather boots stepped closer, and then Perth let out a pained grunt as the Captain hoisted him up by the collar of his torn shirt. "What. Are. You. Hiding?"
"It was for protection!" Fourth blurted. He began to struggle to his feet, but the pirate behind him kicked the back of his knees, sending him crashing back to the deck. Fourth let out a startled gasp when his knees crashed into the oak boards once more. He took a moment to get his bearings, and then he leveled the Captain with a startlingly fierce glare. "Protection against men like you."
Perth collapsed to the deck in a boneless heap as the Captain finally released him. The boots crossed Phuwin's vision to stand before Fourth.
"You're honest." The Captain leaned down and grabbed hold of Fourth's short, dark hair, yanking him upright. "I like that." He paused, as if considering something. "You must be a cadet. You haven't quite learned how to hold your tongue."
Phuwin's pulse began to accelerate. His instincts urged him to throw himself upward and tackle the man, but he was bound, weaponless, and injured.
"Cadet Fourth, at your service," Fourth said between pained groans, his voice cracking beneath the strain of the Captain's rough treatment.
The Captain chuckled. "I'm not sure if you're brave or foolish." He released his hold on Fourth's hair, and the cadet let out a soft sigh of relief.
"Both," someone called from the crowd, sending the entire deck into a wave of laughter.
The boots turned slowly. The Captain took one step, then another, and the laughter died as abruptly as it had begun. Phuwin's heartbeat raced in his ears, his fingers twitching with the urge to move.
"And what about you?" The Captain's tone dropped, but the sound still rang in the silence. "You haven't uttered a word since my men dragged you aboard."
The pirate at Phuwin's back, the one they'd called Dunk on the shore, dropped a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. "He gave up the moment he saw we had the boy."
Phuwin carefully schooled his mouth into a set line. There hadn't been much of a choice at the time. His sword had ended up at the bottom of the sea during the wreck, his wrist was useless, and Fourth was his responsibility. He wasn't going to let his pride cause the death of an innocent crewman.
Phuwin kept his jaw locked, refusing to look up.
"So defiant now," the Captain murmured. His warm breath rustled through Phuwin's bangs, gently caressing the top of his face. "Almost as if you have something to hide."
Then, warm, calloused fingers hooked beneath Phuwin's chin. Phuwin tried to resist, digging his boots into the deck, but the touch was inescapable; he had no leverage. His head was forced back, his face tilted up into the bright afternoon sun.
His bangs fell back, revealing Phuwin's sharp features and dark brown eyes, and a startled gasp rippled through the crowd.
"Is that-?"
"Kraken's wake… just like the posters."
"The Tempest of the North gave up just like that?"
Phuwin barely registered the rest of the pirates' words. The sharp shk of cutlasses clearing scabbards and cocking of flintlocks cut through the air, but it all faded into a distant roar.
The world around him shrank to the dark, unreadable eyes boring into his. Phuwin had seen the wanted posters. He'd seen the Captain's sharp jawline and fierce gaze stare out at him from weathered parchment. If encountered, run, officers and midshipmen alike had whispered in the halls of the Naval headquarters. Even Phuwin's mentor had warned him of the pirate's ruthlessness.
Naravit Lertratkosum.
The name rang in Phuwin's mind. He'd read it a hundred times on classified intelligence reports detailing the man's exploits across the northern seas. He'd always envisioned a ruthless, brutish man - a disgraced naval officer turned bloodthirsty sea dog.
Phuwin stared into the feared pirate's eyes, searching the Captain for any sign of the bloodlust he'd heard tales of, but all that he saw was a staggering intensity that made his breath catch in his throat.
Phuwin had built his reputation on predicting his opponent's next move and acting decisively, but in this moment, he was fighting blind. He'd expected malice and sadistic triumph, not Lertratkosum's calculating gaze that looked at Phuwin as if he were piecing a puzzle together.
The fingers that dug into Phuwin's jaw twitched. The pirate's thumb brushed ever so slightly against the curve of Phuwin's cheekbone before it stilled. Phuwin couldn't blink. He couldn't bring himself to look away.
"Pond!" Dunk called over the crowd. He stepped around to Phuwin's front and placed a hand on Lertratkosum's wrist. "That's the Tempest. We have to -"
"Dunk," the Captain replied, slowly, almost reluctantly, sliding his hand from Phuwin's chin. The loss of warmth left Phuwin's skin cold in the ocean breeze. "I know who he is."
Dunk's mouth twisted into a sneer. He jerked a hand in Phuwin's direction. "Then you know we have to kill him."
Phuwin's stomach dropped. He'd known this was coming, but he'd hoped he'd at least have more time to… to do something. What, he didn't know, but something.
The uproar on the deck reached a fever pitch as the voices of the crew began to clamor for Phuwin's blood.
"It's only fair," someone called. "He's killed enough of us!"
Captain Naravit Lertrakosum straightened to his full height, his eyes lingering on Phuwin for one last moment before he turned to face the rest of his crew. His heavy Naval officer's coat, one that had been altered and patched with the symbol of the Jasper, billowed behind him in the ocean breeze. He raised a single hand, and slowly, the roar of the crowd quieted to a tense murmur.
"You've put me in quite the position, Phuwin Tangsakyuen." The sound of his full name sent a jolt of nervous energy through Phuwin's system. "My men have spent years watching their comrades hang from Navy gallows and hearing tales of you and your master cutting them down without prejudice. They would like nothing more than to tear you apart piece by piece."
Phuwin refused to give them the satisfaction of seeing him flinch. This, he'd expected. He mentally calculated the distance to the rail and the tightness of the hemp around his wrists, then fought a wince as his wrist reminded him that swimming ashore remained a very bad idea.
"And frankly," Lertratkosum continued, stepping closer until the toe of his boot brushed against Phuwin's knee, "they've earned blood. I'm not one to deny my crew their due. So." He clapped his hands together and turned back to the crowd. "I'll offer you a bargain, Tempest," he raised his voice so that everyone could hear him clearly. "A simple choice."
Dunk crossed his arms and sent Phuwin a dark, expectant grin.
"You walk away. I slice your bonds right now, give you a seat at my table, and you watch as my men gut the boy and the navigator and paint the deck with their entrails."
Fourth let out a startled hiss, and Perth's head dropped to his chest in defeat. Phuwin's jaw tensed. That wasn't going to happen. Not on his watch.
The crowd erupted into dissatisfied murmurs, but another wave of Lertratkosum's hand had the pirates quieting. The Captain turned back to Phuwin and leaned down, his voice dropping into a low, terrifying purr as he spoke into his ear, "Or, you may take their place." He stood upright once more, mouth curling into a satisfied sneer. "You let us keelhaul you until the barnacles tear you open, haul you up to the mainyard in your officer's coat, and leave you to roast in the sun until the gulls finish the job."
He chuckled darkly. "You'll serve as a warning to every Navy cutter foolish enough to hunt us, and in exchange, I will spare your cadet and your navigator. I'll even treat them as honored guests at my table."
The deck went completely and utterly silent, then Fourth let out a choked, horrified gasp. "Lieutenant, no - please-" His words were silenced by Gemini's hand coming down to wrap around his mouth.
Phuwin's eyes narrowed. The offer was no bargain. Watch his crew die an agonizing death or take one for himself. He knew other officers in the Navy. What they'd do in his place.
Your crew is your life, Phuwin. You protect them until the end, Tay had told him once, long ago, when he'd been assigned his first mission.
But, he wasn't other officers. He was Phuwin Tangsakyuen, Tempest of the North, and he'd held himself to the same standard as his master as long as he'd been sailing the ocean.
Phuwin stared up into the dark eyes of Captain Naravit Lertratkosum, Scourge of the Sea, and nodded. "Do it," he said, his voice steady despite the fear threatening to swallow him whole. "Do whatever you want to me. Let them go."
A flicker of genuine surprise flashed across Lertratkosum's features before it was quickly smoothed over in an unreadable mask. Beside him, Dunk blinked, clearly not expecting Phuwin's answer. The crowd began to murmur once more, this time in surprise.
Even Perth's head snapped up to stare at him, shock written across his face before it slowly dawned to horror.
The pirate captain stared down at Phuwin for one long, agonizing moment, watching Phuwin as if he were trying, and failing, to understand the pirate hunter's motivations. Phuwin almost let out a huff of wry amusement - he didn't have any. He already had one broken bone, he was sure he'd have even more by the time the pirates were finished with him.
"Dunk," Lertratkosum said, "take him below."
Phuwin couldn't help the way his eyes widened in surprise. They weren't going to start immediately? Then, the surprise dulled into acceptance. Of course not, they needed the time to prepare everything. Dragging it out was just another bonus.
Dunk's jaw dropped, his hand flying to the hilt of his cutlass. "Pond, are you insane? He just gave you his answer! We ought to kill him now!"
"Put him in the brig," Lertratkosum ordered. His tone was cold now. "And see to it that the boy and the navigator are given proper quarters and a warm meal. Treat them as guests."
The knot of tension that had coiled in Phuwin's chest loosened somewhat at that. At the very least, the Captain seemed to be keeping his word - more than that, even.
"Captain-" Dunk started, but Lertratkosum leveled him with a look that shut his argument down before he could get much further.
Before Phuwin's mind could fully process the absurdity of the situation, two heavy pairs of hands grabbed him by the shoulders and hauled him to his feet. Pain flared through his broken wrist, forcing a muffled groan from his throat as he was dragged backward toward the dark hatchway that led to the lower decks.
As his captors forced him down the narrow wooden steps, Phuwin looked back over his shoulder one last time.
Captain Naravit Lertratkosum was still standing in the afternoon sunlight, watching Phuwin disappear into the shadows with expressionless dark eyes that betrayed nothing.
Phuwin had never liked the dark.
It was something Tay had tried to train out of him at one point, citing long hauls below deck on missions and hiding in cramped spaces for an ambush, but they'd both given up on that when Phuwin had his first bout of hysterics after being stuffed in a closet for more than five minutes.
He sat with his back pressed against the curved hull of the Jasper, quietly breathing in the scent of damp oak planks and sea salt. He'd drawn up his legs as far as the cramped cage allowed. Darkness swallowed everything in its cold embrace, save for the faint creaking of the ship's timbers as it carved through the ocean waves that battered its outer hull.
The rise and fall of the sea sent a jagged, white-hot pulse of pain shooting up his left arm from his shattered wrist. Phuwin still couldn't see it properly, but by this point, he could feel it well enough as he applied steady pressure to the injury with his right hand.
He hated the waiting. He'd never been very good at dealing with that, either. Half the time, he spent his missions pacing the decks, waiting for whatever pirate vessel he was chasing to take the bait of the merchant ship he was protecting so he could fight properly.
He knew how executions on a pirate vessel worked. They'd want the daylight for it. His death would be a grand spectacle for the entire crew to see - the Tempest of the North torn apart by barnacles and left dangling from the mainyard like a gutted fish while the crew celebrated. He'd made his peace with it the second he gave the Captain his answer. He only hoped that they wouldn't force Fourth or Perth to watch. Perth would likely be fine, but Fourth would likely carry it with him for the rest of his life.
Heavy, muffled footfalls on the ladder above broke his quiet contemplation.
Phuwin didn't move. He simply lifted his eyes to the wooden hatch as it creaked open. A thin shaft of warm light cut through the darkness of the hold, and then a brass lantern appeared.
Boots descended down the narrow steps until they came to a stop just outside the iron bars of his cage.
Captain Naravit Lertratkosum set the lantern down on a nearby water barrel. The amber light cast long, sharp shadows across his face as he leaned against the crate behind him. He wasn't wearing his bastardized Naval officer's coat any longer. A linen shirt, unbuttoned at the throat, covered his chest instead. His dark leather belt held a silver-hilted cutlass that gleamed in the lantern's glow.
Phuwin finally looked up. "Come to gloat?" His voice was rougher than he anticipated from the salt in the air, but he didn't let it faze him. "Or did you decide not to wait until morning?"
Naravit's eyes widened ever so slightly, then narrowed. He stared at Phuwin thoughtfully but didn't answer.
A surge of annoyance rose in Phuwin's chest. "If you're looking for me to beg for mercy, Captain, you're wasting your time," he continued, leaning his head back against the wood. He'd already been waiting for what felt like hours. If he was going to die, he'd rather do it sooner than later. "When do we start? Keelhauling before sunrise? Or do you prefer your executions to be in the afternoon? The timing worked out a little later than we would have wanted today, I'm guessing."
Silence stretched between them. Phuwin had hoped he'd get a rise out of Lertratkosum - something to get him out of the crushing darkness - but all he received was a twitch at the corner of the pirate's mouth.
Then, his gaze traveled downward, to the wrist that Phuwin was still cradling against his chest, and his brow furrowed into a look of heavy disapproval. He studied Phuwin's broken wrist through the bars, and Phuwin couldn't help the wry laugh that ripped itself from his throat.
"What, disappointed I'm already a bit broken?" He shook his head. "I apologize, the storm got to me first."
Lertratkosum's mouth pinched into a thin line, and then, without uttering a single word, he retrieved the lantern and disappeared back up the ladder into the upper decks. The hatch swung shut, leaving Phuwin to stew alone in the pitch black.
The rain-soaked deck of the Maiden's Grace pitched violently port side as a towering wave of black water crashed over the gunwale. Loose barrels and coiled rope slid across the deck from the force, and Phuwin did his best not to give the Captain behind him a terse told you so as Perth tried valiantly to keep them from capsizing.
Emphasis on tried.
"Lieutenant!" Fourth's voice called over the howling wind. He was clutching the ship's binnacle tight enough that his knuckles had gone as white as his face. "The wind's shifted! We'll be driven straight southwest!"
Phuwin wiped a mix of sea salt and freezing rain from his eyes. He should have forsworn his uniform coat, which was already soaked through and weighed him down, but even in situations such as this, habits die hard.
"Keep her bow into the swells!" Phuwin replied, raising his voice so that it would rise above the chaos and the strained creaking of the rigging. He'd warned them. He'd pointed out the deep, bruised purple line on the horizon and explicitly told the Captain that pushing through the channel tonight was suicide.
And yet.
The Captain, a weaselly-looking man named Mek, had insisted on continuing with the launch. There had been citations of Admiralty deadlines and profits and claims that a little rain wouldn't stall a heavy-bottomed merchant vessel, and Phuwin couldn't be bothered to argue much more about the issue than he already had.
Now, Mek was clinging to the mainmast like his life depended on it (which it did, so that was somewhat fair), his eyes wide with sheer terror while Phuwin, his cadet, and the poor navigator who was wildly overqualified to be a midshipman on a merchant vessel worked their sorry asses off to save his damn ship.
"Lieutenant!" Perth screamed, nearly drowned out by a crash of thunder. "Breakers ahead! Rocks off the starboard bow!"
"Hard to starboard!" Phuwin roared. He threw himself toward the wheel to help Perth put more weight against the spokes. "Perth, hard to star-"
He was too late. A sickening, only-to-be-heard-in-nightmares crash echoed from deep within the bowels of the vessel as the Maiden's Grace hit the granite reef of the Devil's Tooth at full speed. The violence of the impact threw both Phuwin and Perth off their feet, and both men were sent sprawling against the oak boards of the deck. Timber splintered like dry twigs, the hull tore wide open against the rock, and Phuwin could only fight to catch his breath as every sailor's greatest fear happened before his very eyes.
Then, the main topmast snapped. The sound ripped through the air like the crack of cannon fire, and Phuwin caught sight of a massive section of tangled rigging and yardarm falling from above…
…falling directly over Fourth, who was still clinging to the damned binnacle, completely unaware of the imminent danger.
Phuwin's instincts flared. He lunged across the deck, slamming his shoulder into Fourth's midsection. The cadet would be smarting for a while from the blow, but Phuwin didn't care. He'd be far more grateful when he realized just how close to death he had come if the ship capsizing didn't finish the job.
They hit the deck together, Fourth completely out of harm's way. Unfortunately, the same couldn't be said for Phuwin. The thick oak beam caught his outstretched left hand, crushing his wrist beneath two hundred pounds of solid wood and iron fittings.
White-hot agony shot up Phuwin's arm. He bit down so hard on his lip that he tasted copper in an effort to hold in the scream threatening to tear itself from his throat. The ship listed sharply to port, and that was when Phuwin realized there was no saving the situation.
"Lieutenant!" Fourth gasped, eyes wide as Phuwin pried his hand from beneath the wreckage.
Phuwin shook his head. "Over the side!" he wheezed through gritted teeth. The hold was filling quickly if the ship was reacting with such drastic movements. They likely had less than a minute before it would overturn, trapping them beneath the sinking boat in the black surf. "Abandon ship! Move!"
Near the mainmast, Captain Mek stood, frozen in sheer terror. His arms were wrapped around the splintered wood as the sea began to swallow the quarterdeck. Phuwin could only watch in horror as a massive wave washed the man down into the dark abyss of the hold before he could even utter a plea for help. Other men, some of whom Phuwin had known for years, were thrown into the water.
Fourth's already wide eyes widened impossibly further as the undertow dragged the sailors against the jagged rocks, silencing their screams in an instant. Perth shot him a desperate look, but Phuwin wasn't budging.
It was chancing the water and possibly surviving, or going down with the capsizing ship, which was certain death.
"Perth. Fourth. In the water. Now!" Phuwin ordered. He reached out with his good hand and grabbed Fourth by the collar of his shirt. In one smooth movement, he pulled both himself and the cadet to their feet, steered them toward the lee rail, and then threw them overboard before Fourth even had time to scream.
Phuwin hit the freezing water, and the sheer cold of it all stole the breath right from his lungs. The heavy, wool officer's coat he had stubbornly refused to shed immediately soaked up the water, turning the garment into lead around his shoulders. He kicked wildly with his boots as his coat and the downdraft of the sinking vessel pulled him further into the depths.
Just as he seemed to be making progress, enough to try and pry the buttons of his coat apart, his momentum snapped to a halt with a violent jerk at his hip. The force jerked him down beneath the water's surface.
Phuwin's good arm frantically felt around in the darkness for whatever was dragging him into the depths. His hands brushed against the leather strap holding his hanger at his waist, now pulled dangerously tight, and he realized somewhere beneath the rapidly rising panic that it must have caught on a piece of the ship.
His heartbeat pounding in his ears, Phuwin reached across his torso with his good right hand, his numb fingers fumbling for the brass buckle at his hip. The leather was swollen with seawater and locked tight, but he managed to dig his thumb beneath the frame and force his weight against the iron until the buckle gave way with a pop.
The tension pulling him into the darkness eased immediately as the belt stripped free. Phuwin kicked hard against the undertow, lungs burning, and took in a deep gasp of air once his head finally broke the surface.
He wiped his drenched bangs from his eyes, ignoring the sting of the salt. "Perth!" he roared into the storm.
A rogue swell struck him across the face, shoving him under. Phuwin choked on a mouthful of freezing brine before a desperate kick propelled him upward. He coughed, throat stinging, as he screamed, "Fourth!"
"Lieutenant!"
Phuwin whirled toward the voice. There, twenty yards off, was Perth - and he was holding something tightly to his chest. Phuwin drove himself through the choppy waters with heavy strokes of his right arm while his broken left wrist throbbed painfully against his side. As he got closer, he realized that the figure pressed tightly to Perth's chest was Fourth, the cadet completely limp while Perth struggled desperately to keep both their heads above the water.
"He's completely out of it. He took a hit-" Perth said between large gulps of air. A wave washed over the two of them, forcing the two sailors beneath the surface for a agonizingly long moment before their heads popped back into the open air. "Lieutenant, I can't hold him!"
Phuwin surged forward, locking his good hand underneath one of Fourth's arms and wrapping it around his chest so that the cadet's weight was mostly on him. The sea swells jerked his broken wrist roughly, but he gritted his teeth and held on despite the pain. "I've got him!" Phuwin shouted. "You can let go, Perth!"
"Not with that arm," Perth yelled. His hand let go just long enough for him to reposition his arm beneath Fourth's other shoulder. "The current pulls south around the reef! If we follow it, there's a spit on the far side of the rocks!" He jerked his head in the right direction. "Kick, Lieutenant! Kick for the spit!"
At Perth's urging, Phuwin kicked with everything he had. It was easier with Fourth's weight shared between them, but the journey wasn't easy. Blinding spray stung their eyes with every desperate movement. Phuwin's coat only seemed to grow more heavy on his frame. Time lost all meaning in the freezing darkness, and Phuwin lost awareness of everything but his unsteady breaths and Fourth's weak heartbeat beneath his hand.
Then suddenly, the ocean slammed them roughly against the sand.
Phuwin's stomach hit the beach first, knocking what little air he had from his chest. The receding tide pulled at his feet in an attempt to drag him right back into the surf. He jammed his feet and elbows into the wet sand to gain leverage so that he could haul Fourth clear of the water.
The cadet tumbled limply onto the sand in front of him, Perth following close behind. Phuwin could only watch as Perth's chest hitched once, then twice before his body went completely slack - likely into unconsciousness (at least, Phuwin hoped that was the case).
With a groan, Phuwin clawed his was the last few inches to Fourth's side. His left arm hung dead and useless at his side in the sand, but with the last of his energy, he forced his trembling right hand to press two fingers against the cadet's neck.
For three seemingly eternal seconds, he felt nothing. Then-
There. A faint, steady flutter against his fingertips. Fourth let out a ragged cough as water sputtered from his lips. Not the best sound to be hearing, but he was alive.
He glanced at Perth and caught sight of the navigator's chest rising and falling steadily. All of them. Alive.
The adrenaline fled Phuwin's system in the span of one heartbeat to the next. A wave of heavy exhaustion crashed through his limbs. His vision blurred. The pain from his wrist tore through the entirety of his arm.
His head hit the sand, and darkness pulled him under.
Phuwin startled awake to the sound of metal hitting wood. He gasped, his eyes flying open as his body jerked against the cold planks of the Jasper's hull. A sudden pulse of nausea rolled through his stomach, forcing his already racing heart to beat even more quickly. His skin felt hot and prickling despite the draft seeping through the wooden timbers at his back.
He swallowed, forcing the sensation away as the brig hatch opened above him. It's just salt-burn and exhaustion, he tried to convince himself. A pair of boots began descending the ladder.
Four counts in, four counts out. Breathe, Phuwin.
He forced his breath into a steady rhythm, blinking through the bright light of the lantern that suddenly broke through the darkness in front of him. When his vision finally cleared (too slowly, far too slowly, Phuwin), a man was standing in front of his cage, holding a wooden tray in one hand and a wooden box in the other.
The man wasn't wearing the same clothes as most of the other pirates he'd encountered so far. He was dressed in a simple clean linen shirt rolled up to his elbows and patchy pants that had clearly seen better days. He looked to be a few years older than Phuwin, and his loose, almost unbothered, posture felt out of place aboard the ship - well, any ship Phuwin had sailed upon.
He set the tray and the box onto one of the water barrels, then unhitched a heavy ring of keys from his belt. Phuwin eyed the keys for a moment, mentally calculating what he'd need to do to snatch it for himself before he buried the instinct beneath logic. If he attacked this man, it could be seen as reneging on the deal… which would put Perth and Fourth in harm's way. Unacceptable.
The door swung open, and Phuwin couldn't hold back the flinch as the sound of metal grinding against rust filled his cage. "If you're here to finish what your Captain started," Phuwin murmured, his throat too sore to speak much louder, "then I'd prefer you make it quick." He tilted his head to the side. "Unless you're here to… what, prepare me? Dress me up?"
The man smirked, grabbing the box he'd brought with him. "Actually, my job is to do the opposite." He dragged a low three-legged stool to the small bit of space at the front of the cage and sat on it. "I'm going to need you to take that off," he said, motioning to Phuwin's coat with his free hand. "It's not doing you any favors."
Phuwin blinked, then looked down at his uniform. The wool was still damp, which was keeping the rest of him damp, which led to-
"Unless you want a fever on top of everything else, that is." The man shrugged. "Never know with you officer types. Some of you are downright prideful to the point of suicide."
Phuwin scowled and gingerly began to shed the heavy fabric. It took a bit of doing with one arm, but he managed beneath the man's watchful gaze. Phuwin sank back against the hull once he was finished, nudging the coat towards the pirate with his foot and trying to ignore the chill from his damp linen shirt as it hit the air.
"The name is Aou," the pirate said. He put the box on top of Phuwin's coat. "I'd ask for yours, but I think everyone knows it by now."
Phuwin eyed the box warily. He wasn't sure what was in it, but he wouldn't put it past a pirate to have something nasty up his sleeves. "Tempest isn't exactly easy to forget," he replied, unable to hide the bitterness in his voice.
Aou grinned. "Well, I meant Phuwin." He opened the box and spun it around so that Phuwin could get a good look at its contents: medical supplies. "You don't see the Captain running around calling himself Scourge all the time - though he's tried." The pirate reached into the box, pulling out a jar of vinegar wash, strips of linen, and two smooth pieces of oak. "Give me your wrist."
Phuwin stared at him dubiously. Not that he didn't trust him, but-
Aou sighed, rolling his eyes in a manner that was very un-pirate like. "Kraken's teeth, you're just as bad as he is." He leaned forward and tapped on Phuwin's knee with his finger. "The Captain noticed it when he was down here earlier, which is why he sent me, the ship's surgeon, to fix it. He's not exactly thrilled it happened in the first place - said Dunk was too rough with you on the shore."
"It wasn't a pirate," Phuwin corrected before he could stop himself. He paused, wondering for just a moment why he was defending a pirate of all people, especially one who clearly hated him, but at Aou's raised eyebrow he felt compelled to continue with the explanation. "During the wreck, a piece of the yardarm fell. I pushed my cadet out of the way. Beam caught my wrist instead."
Aou leaned back on his stool and looked at Phuwin for a beat, eyes narrowed thoughtfully.
"It was me or a dead crewman," Phuwin protested weakly, averting his own gaze to stare at the box of supplies.
"Right," Aou said softly, drawing out the word. "Well, you still need that fixed unless you want to spend the rest of your life swinging a cutlass with one hand." His hand appeared in Phuwin's vision, hovering just over where Phuwin's wrist was still cradled against his chest. "Wrist, Phuwin. Or would you prefer Lieutenant?"
Phuwin blinked. He hadn't realized he'd get a choice in the matter.
"Lieu-"
"Phuwin," he interrupted, offering his injured arm to the surgeon. "Call me Phuwin."
It would be nice, in his final hours, to be called by his name. He'd gone by so many in his career. To die as himself would be better than dying as the Tempest or a Lieutenant.
Aou took the limb in his hands, seemingly unsurprised by Phuwin's choice. His grip was firm, but gentle as his fingers probed the swollen, bruised skin around the fractured joint. "Well, it's most certainly broken," he said, glancing up to look at Phuwin. He paused then, his brow furrowing as he searched Phuwin's face.
Before Phuwin could react, the surgeon shifted his grip and leaned forward, reaching out to brush the back of his knuckles against the side of Phuwin's neck. "You're burning," he noted darkly.
"Salt-burn," Phuwin muttered, leaning away from the invasive touch.
"Sea salt doesn't give a man the sweats." Aou's hand dropped back to Phuwin's wrist. "You've got a fever taking root."
Phuwin shook his head. "I'll manage."
"The Deep save me from fools," Aou muttered. "You'll be managing right up until you're too weak to swallow." He tapped lightly on Phuwin's wrist. "The bones here are out of sorts. I'll need to set it before I try to splint it, or you'll lose that hand entirely." He looked down into the box and sighed. "Unfortunately, I'm all out of abyss-root and laudanum."
Which meant it would hurt. Badly. Phuwin set his jaw, his gaze settling on a spot over Aou's shoulder. "Do it." He had no idea if he'd live to see his arm healed, but on the off chance he did…
Aou reached down to grab a piece of thick leather. "Bite down on this."
Phuwin bit his lip, then sighed. "No, just set it."
Phuwin had expected more of a fight, but Aou simply set the leather aside, anchored his left hand firmly around Phuwin's forearm, and cupped his right hand around Phuwin's left palm.
"Hold still."
That was all the warning Phuwin got before a brutal twist of leverage snapped the fractured bone back into alignment. A wave of pure agony tore through Phuwin's arm. He screamed from the sheer overwhelming force of it as the dark corners of the brig spun violently. The fingers of his good hand clawed at the floorboards until the nails bent.
Aou worked quickly. He smeared the vinegar wash over Phuwin's bruised skin, wrapped the joint tightly in the linen, and bound the splints securely in place with efficient movements that betrayed just how often he had to do this. He tied off the final knot on the split with a gentle yank.
"You can breathe now," he said quietly. Phuwin was thankful to note that Aou's voice lacked the judgement he'd been expecting.
Phuwin slumped back against the hull timbers, chest heaving and heartbeat in his ears. He could taste blood where his teeth had dug into his bottom lip during the procedure, but the agony from before was slowly dulling to a deep, but manageable, throb.
Aou packed his jar and leftover linens back into the wooden box. He didn't look at Phuwin as he worked, a similar silence to the Captain's settling over him now that his work was done - not that Phuwin was up for much more conversation.
The surgeon stood, grabbed the wooden tray from the barrel, and set it within reach of Phuwin's good hand. The acrid scent of hot fish stew wafted into his nose, and unbidden, Phuwin's stomach rumbled loudly. Aou grinned, resting his palm on Phuwin's knee before stepping back out of the cage.
"Drink the water first," he advised as he locked the door. "Then eat the stew. All of it. Your body needs the strength if it's going to fight off whatever's brewing in your blood."
Phuwin looked from the bowl of stew to Aou. "I don't understand," he murmured. His fever-clouded mind did its best to reconcile the terrifying reputation of the Jasper with his current state. "Why do any of this?" He gently fingers the edge of the linen binding his splint. "Why help a dead man?"
Aou paused, his mouth twisting into a deep set frown before it smoothed to a thin line. "You didn't hesitate to trade your life for your crew," he said quietly. "Seemed like the least I could do."
With that, he picked up his lantern and climbed back up the ladder. The hatch swung shut, and Phuwin was plunged back into the black to sit alone with his thoughts, a bound wrist, and too many questions on the tip of his tongue.
"…found three more crates of silver! Broadside's torn clean through!"
Phuwin stirred, his face pressed into the freezing, wet sand. He felt warmth along his back, and the air had lost the heavy wetness from the storm. Every muscle in his body felt like lead. His arm throbbed.
"Still no survivors. Wouldn't expect them after a storm like that."
His eyes shot open. Pirates.
Adrenaline surged through his veins, the bone weary exhaustion drowning beneath the tide. He forced himself up onto his good right hand and shook away the hammering heartbeat in his ears.
"Perth," he croaked through his raw throat. "Fourth." The two men were just a few feet away, sprawled on the sand beside him. He kicked out with one foot to jostle Fourth, who was closer. "Wake up. We have to move."
Perth's eyes fluttered. Fourth let out a deep groan. Both of them had to be exhausted, but Phuwin didn't care. He coughed to clear his throat and hissed with all the authority he could muster, "Wake up."
That broke through the fog. Perth came to attention immediately, his instincts kicking in as his gaze darted to the sound of approaching boots. He scrambled to his feet and reached down to shake Fourth's shoulder.
Unfortunately for both of them, the cadet was too out of it. His head lolled uselessly against the sand. Now that there was light, Phuwin took note of the trail of deep red that had made its way down the side of his face. He hissed and pulled himself to his feet. Fourth was stunned if they were lucky, but if it were a cracked crown…
Perth seemed to have the same thought. He reached down and forced one of the cadet's eyes open. Fourth cringed and tried to pull back, but Perth was insistent. "It shrunk," he reported as Fourth finally began climbing back to the waking world.
"Good. Get him up," Phuwin ordered, stepping in front of his two companions just as two figures crested one of the dunes behind them.
"Hey!" a voice barked. "Got three live ones!"
Metal rasped against leather. Perth's shoulders tensed. "Lieutenant-" The heavy thud of boots against wet sand swallowed the rest of his warning. Half a dozen men swarmed the beach in a flash of steel and flintlocks.
There was no time to react. Two pirates slammed into Perth, driving him into the sand before he could move. A third lunged over the pile of bodies, seizing Fourth by his collar and yanking him upright.
"Don't move, Navy boy, or I'll blow his brains out," the pirate barked.
Perth froze, his gaze flitting first to Fourth, then to Phuwin. The other three pirates fanned out, weapons drawn, closing the circle around Phuwin.
Phuwin's jaw tightened. He had no weapon. One arm was working. He had no chance of escaping. His only saving grace at the moment was the sand and blood coating his face - they'd certainly recognize him otherwise, and things would get infinitely worse.
He slowly reached into the folds of his coat, his bad arm hanging limply at his side as he fumbled for the blade hidden within the fabric. The pirate holding Fourth jammed the flintlock further into the cadet's chin, but a shake of Phuwin's head had him relaxing somewhat.
With two fingers, he pulled his dirk from the wool lining and let it fall. The useless steel hit the wet sand with a dull thud.
Phuwin raised his open palm into the air. "Don't touch him," he said quietly, layering his voice with an air of command.
Only then did Fourth break through the daze. The cadet jerked against the heavy grip on his collar, letting out a sharp yelp as the pirate cuffed him across the ear with the flintlock.
"This one thinks he can order us around, boys," the pirate holding Fourth drawled with a sharp grin. "Must be that fancy coat of his."
One of the pirates holding Perth hauled the navigator to his feet. "I don't know, Gem. Looks like something the Kraken spit up."
The pirate at the head of the small circle sneered. "Let's see if he talks so loud when he's trussed up," the man said, producing a length of heavy hemp rope from his belt.
The pirates moved in, shoving Phuwin to his knees in the sand. The rope wrapped tightly around his wrists and brutally wrenched them together. The rough fibers bit into Phuwin's swollen left wrist, sending fire through his skin.
"Dunk," one of the other pirates called. The pirate holding Phuwin down tossed a second length of rope in Perth's direction.
Out of the corner of his eye, Phuwin saw Fourth getting similar treatment. The three of them were bound in short order. Phuwin didn't fight as he was manhandled over the dunes to a wooden rowboat waiting in the surf on the other side.
The pirates shoved the three of them unceremoniously into the boat. Fourth was dumped onto the damp boards at Phuwin's boots, groaning weakly as the rowers pushed off toward the looming black silhouette of their ship.
Phuwin craned his head as best he could to try and catch a glimpse of the flag at the top of the mast, but the angle was wrong. He glanced at Perth, who was facing him on the other side of Perth, and angled his head slightly in silent question.
Perth's eyes narrowed, tracking the lines of the rigging up into the sky, then flicked to the main topmast. In the bright afternoon, it would be easy to see the ship's colors snapping against the sea breeze. The navigator should have no problem… Phuwin watched Perth's face expectantly, waiting for a nod or sign of recognition.
Not too many pirate ships were operating this far South, he knew that. There was, of course, the Domundi, and he'd heard of a newer ship named after a plant. The only other ship that dared to operate this close to the Devil's Tooth was-
The color drained from Perth's face. For the first time, his dark eyes widened in genuine terror as he stared at the flag high above their heads. The navigator swallowed, his gaze dropping down to meet Phuwin's. He didn't speak, but the sheer panic in his eyes sent a spike of cold fear down Phuwin's spine.
Not just any pirates, then, Phuwin thought with a sinking stomach.
He strained against his bonds, shifting his weight on the bench and twisting his neck until the muscles burned. He forced his head back, searching the canopy of canvas and rope until his eyes finally caught sight of the dark fabric fluttering against the clear blue sky.
Embroidered in silver thread was a roaring dragon entwined around a blood red crystal.
The Jasper. They'd been captured by the Jasper.
Phuwin's breath hitched in his throat. The air in his lungs turned to lead. They'd survived a ship wreck and fallen right into the hands of the most ruthless crew sailing the ocean. He dropped his head to his chest, barely holding back the laugh of disbelief that threatened to bubble from his gut.
He'd have been better off sinking to the Abyss. There was no way he'd see another dawn.
"Look at him," someone remarked coldly. "Starting to realize whose maw you just walked into, Navy?"
"Y'know, we can't bring all this filth aboard looking like that," another pirate spat, resting his oars. "Captain's gonna complain about all the sand and salt on the decks."
Dunk leaned over so that his mouth brushed against Phuwin's ear. "They've got a point, Navy," he muttered. His warm breath ghosted over Phuwin's cool skin, sending a shiver through his body. "Might as well wash you off while we've got the chance."
That was all the warning Phuwin received before a calloused hand grabbed the back of his hair and shoved his head straight over the side of the boar, plunging his face deep into the freezing water below.
Phuwin thrashed, brine invading his nose and throat as his bound hands fought uselessly at his back. Seconds, minutes, an eternity passed until his lungs were burning with the effort of keeping the water away. The pirate yanked him back up by his hair just as the black began creeping at the edges of his vision.
Phuwin gasped, spraying saltwater all over Fourth. The cadet cringed, but didn't protest at the sudden deluge.
"Oops," Dunk said, his voice tinged with laughter. The other pirates were already cackling, their voices barely able to cut through the frantic heartbeat in Phuwin's ears. "Didn't quite get all the sand off, did we? Let's try that again."
Phuwin managed to get a quick lungful of air just as the pirate shoved him back beneath the surface. This time, he wasn't as successful in keeping the water at bay. By the time he was pulled back into fresh air, he'd swallowed his fair share of seawater.
He lay at the bottom of the boat where Dunk dropped him, shuddering and gasping as Perth and Fourth were put through the same brutal treatment until the rowboat finally bumped against the oak hull of the Jasper.
Phuwin snapped awake with a violent yell, the memory of freezing water and not enough air temporarily overwhelming his sense. He jerked upright against the cold timbers of the brig, chest heaving, eyes straining against the darkness. Cold sweat soaked through his still-damp shirt, and his skin burned with what was unmistakably a full-blown fever.
Beside his hand, the wooden tray remained on the floorboards. The bowl of fish stew Aou had left for him was already cold.
Phuwin stared out beyond the bars of his cage. He didn't bother with the soup - he wouldn't be able to stomach it, not like this.
He leaned his head back against the hull, closing his eyes against the constant black as the fever took hold.