Burning Bright (34 page)

Someone had seen her signal, but not the Navy; the pirates had. Pirates whose ship was anchored out of sight to the west, or—but why send a rowboat when you could simply navigate around to the north side of the island? So, pirates who were camped on the island. Pirates with a leader named Evans, which sounded so familiar. Someone had told her—no, Ramsay had said it once, she could remember him holding his wine glass in those long, clever fingers, leaning back in his chair during supper… Evans,
Rhys
Evans.

Elinor’s hand flew up to her mouth, and then she had to wipe bittersweet tree sap from her lips, spitting in disgust. Rhys Evans, leader of the Brethren of the Coast. Rhys Evans who had sent these men to investigate the fire, who controlled the Extraordinary Scorcher she’d fought only days before. Rhys Evans who was near enough that those men were going to report to him.

She had stumbled upon the secret pirate stronghold.

In which there are pirates

he had to take a few minutes to calm down again. It was ridiculous. This island had to be mere miles from Jamaica; the Royal Navy patrolled these waters constantly. It was impossible that the pirates could have stayed concealed here all this time. She was up and moving down the hill before she came to her senses. She absolutely could not follow those men. She had no experience in hiding, in moving quietly; it was sheer luck she’d concealed herself from the pirates at all.

She stood at the tree line, under the shade of a coconut palm, and wiped her hands on her trousers to remove the last of the sap. If Ramsay were here, he wouldn’t think twice about following those men back to where they were hiding. It would be his duty as an officer of the Royal Navy. Well, she was…not exactly an officer, but she was under orders and that made her as duty-bound as anyone else might be. She had to know if it was merely Evans’ ship nearby, or if this was where the Brethren of the Coast hid and issued their orders to every pirate in the Caribbean.

She roasted breadfruit and ate, quickly, then began walking down the beach toward the promontory, planning furiously. She would have to stay concealed within the trees for as long as she could, low to the ground. It might be better to wait until nightfall—no, the sky still threatened rain, and it was possible the overcast would remain after sunset, which would make it nearly impossible for her to find her way since she couldn’t light any fires as she went. She could carry no food, nothing that would keep her from running away if that became necessary. She hoped the enemy Scorcher, Dewdney,
wouldn’t
make an appearance; if she needed to burn some men in her flight, his intervention might get her killed, or worse.

She stopped short of the promontory, closed her eyes and her fists and chastised herself. This was utter madness. If they caught her, they would torture her, rape her, and eventually kill her, and no one would know to come to her rescue. She was just Elinor Pembroke, gently raised daughter of Josiah Pembroke, completely unsuited to traveling through a tropical forest to spy on a possible pirate stronghold. Elinor Pembroke…who had burned ships and killed men with a talent unmatched by anyone, possibly not even that other Extraordinary Scorcher. Since she had left on this journey she had done so much she would have thought impossible in her former life. This was just one more impossible thing. She took a deep breath, opened her eyes, and continued westward.

She took her time coming around the promontory, not sure she wouldn’t still find those two pirates rowing away, but there was merely more beach and sand and trees extending farther west. She went to walk under the palm trees, which slowed her considerably but gave her better concealment. The fallen palm fronds, dry and rustling, were sharp against her already bruised and cut feet, forcing her deeper into the forest to avoid them, but she soon learned to recognize where it was safe to step and began to make better time.

Eventually she left the palms behind for a thick forest of those sturdy trees with the hand-sized leaves that smelled like cool, woody sap and freshly cut grass. They were easier to maneuver through than the palms, and Elinor was able to move even more quickly. The pirates were still nowhere in sight. She heard nothing but the sound of her feet on the bare ground and the wind and the birds she was now so accustomed to that she was startled every time they fell silent. She stopped to relieve herself, then kept walking, observing that the shore had a barely noticeable curve to it, and that in the far distance was another promontory, shaped like a leaping dolphin, after which the island seemed to curve sharply to the left.

It was early afternoon when she reached the leaping dolphin, and she stopped to catch her breath before carefully creeping past it into a cove empty of human life. Here, the trees receded rapidly from the shore, and there was a wide swath of scrub bushes and tiny flowers between the tree line and the white sands of the beach. The beach itself was a perfect C scooped out of the shore and filled with that blue, translucent water that lapped the shores of every harbor in the Caribbean.

She had a moment’s longing to run down to the shore and throw herself into the warm water. Then she stepped back into the shelter of the trees and continued on her way, toward a line of rocks extending far out into the blue water, forming the top curve of the C. The line of rocks rose into a sharp ridge blocking her view beyond the point, rising abruptly into a steep cliff crowned with more of those evergreens.

As she walked, she considered the situation before her. Trying to round the point at the water line would be foolish, because she would be completely exposed to the view of anyone on the other side, and that sharp curve prevented her seeing what was there until she had passed the promontory. On the other hand, the ground where she was now had begun to slope up rather steeply toward the ridge, and it might become too steep for her to climb. The need for concealment won the day, and Elinor struggled up the incline, eventually using tree trunks to pull herself up the rise.

Near the top, she rested briefly, waiting until her pulse and breathing were back to normal before crawling over the ridge, pulling herself up and over the steep rise. The trees grew too thickly for her to see anything but glimpses of the blue sea far below, so she edged her way downhill until she reached the tree line. Concealing herself behind a trunk, she was able to take in the scene spread out beneath her.

This was another cove, also perfectly round, but much bigger than the first. Out beyond its mouth, five warships lay at anchor, two of them recognizably Royal Navy ships. One of those ships was missing its topmast and its sails were torn and perforated, its deck and sides a mass of splintered wood. The sight of Navy ships in the pirates’ service infuriated Elinor. How many Navy men had died, horribly, so those pirates could sail the seas using those proud ships to terrify and intimidate others into bowing to their demands? None of the ships appeared ready to depart, though Elinor’s knowledge of ships was still limited and she might be wrong in that assumption, but their furled sails had a slack look to them that spoke to her of an unreadiness to set sail.

There were two rickety piers jutting out into the harbor, at which a number of boats painted in a wild array of colors were tied, including the scummy green one that had landed on her beach. One of the boats was pulled up on shore and turned upside down, and a couple of men appeared to be doing something to its bottom, possibly caulking it; at this distance Elinor could not tell. Both were bearded and both dressed the same in ragged trousers, loose shirts, and boots, with scarves tied around their heads that made them look faintly ridiculous. They were also both armed with swords at their waists and pistols dangling around their necks that made their appearance far more menacing. What good they thought those weapons would be during boat repair was a mystery. Perhaps they simply felt more comfortable going armed.

The trees ended just past the ridge, baring the rocky slope and giving the cove a naked look. The sand of the beach extended up the shore for some distance, then turned into a rocky incline ending at a sheer cliff that went up several hundred feet, as if it too had been scooped out of the mountain rock like the bay. After observing it for several minutes, Elinor realized it
had
been scooped out of the rock; the cliff face bore marks that, if it had been made of wood, would have indicated someone had carved it, peeling away large chunks without smoothing out the gouges. The rocks comprising the incline looked as if they were the chunks that had been peeled away. Whoever had done this had had a great many Movers at his command, to change the landscape so dramatically.

Nestled into the rocks were five wooden huts that looked cobbled together from whatever driftwood washed ashore. Above these lay what Elinor could only describe as a fortress, its back pressed against the cliff so nothing could get behind it. The tiles of the roof were mismatched but without gaps, probably secure against the worst storms the Caribbean could throw at it. Its tightly fitted, planed boards followed the contours of the rock, and small, slit-like windows looked out over the only path to the only door, where an enormous, heavily muscled man stood, likely a Shaper, bearing two swords, a pistol in his belt, and two pistols hanging fore and back over his shoulder, surveying the entire cove. As Elinor watched, three pirates left one of the huts and walked up to the fortress door, where they were relieved of their weapons by the burly guard before they were allowed to enter.

Elinor slid back over the ridge into the shelter of the trees. She had found the pirate stronghold Durrant had never tried to discover. If she could get this information back to Ramsay, he would know what to do with it. According to those pirates, Evans had no Bounder; perhaps they could trap the ships in the cove, prevent Evans from escaping. Or…

No. It’s insanity
. But she was there, in place to destroy the fortress and stop Evans entirely. She could burn everything in that cove, perhaps even the ships. Except she had no proof Evans was there now. And their Extraordinary Scorcher Dewdney could be anywhere, even close enough to counter her attack. Better she got the information to Ramsay. If she ever found a way off this island.

She slid back down the incline until it was horizontal enough that she could walk. Back to her beach—oh, no, she couldn’t make a big fire again without those pirates returning, and next time they would come in greater numbers. A smaller fire, then, one with less smoke, maybe dry palm fronds on the beach instead of the sap-filled living trees. She was becoming hungry; it was midafternoon now and it would probably be full night by the time she returned. She would—

She realized the noise was too great for her to make alone only a second before coming face to face with the pirate. He held a sack from which peeked a couple of knobby green breadfruits and had both a sword with a broad blade, stained with some kind of juice, and a pistol tucked into his rope belt. The shocked expression on his filthy, bearded face surely mirrored hers. She knew the moment he realized she was female by the way his shock gave way to a lascivious anticipation. He dropped the bag of breadfruits, and Elinor set him on fire.