Phoenix Rising (21 page)

The sun was low in the sky and the evening light bathed the deck with a baleful glow. Outside, the tenor of the sound had escalated – the
Phoenix
was screaming as she strained away from the dock.

Half of the soldiers were trying to get off the ship, running for their makeshift gangplanks, which were already tilting dangerously. The other half were fighting even harder, trying to prevent the
Phoenix
from leaving.

Officers on land couldn’t decide whether to cut the ropes and save the jetty, or hope it would hold out and keep their prize trapped in place. So the lines stayed and the
Phoenix
shuddered as tension tightened her ropes. Metal groaned as the ship battled the dock.

Toby ducked as a soldier swiped for him. Already it was instinct for him to whip Nix from his shoulder in a strong
arc. He used one foot to push the Tarifan off the end of his sword and jumped over his falling body.

There he came face to face with Peel, panting and drenched with sweat. His shoulder remained bloody and a long gash now split his eyebrows. He had tied his sun gauze over the cut so that it didn’t blind him, and the blood had soaked through, leaving the scarf crackling and brown at the edges.

Peel looked in surprise at the groaning soldier, then at the blood dripping from Toby’s sword. “Well, then,” he murmured. He reached down and finished the Tarifan off with his kitchen knife.

“Where’s the captain?” Toby tightened his hold on Nix.

Peel gestured with his knife towards the prow where Toby could see the captain, bolstered by members of the
Phoenix
’s crew – and Ayla.

“Are we cutting the lines?” Toby gestured towards the ropes holding the
Phoenix
in place.

Peel shook his head. “Captain wants to take half of Tarifa with us. Crazy bastard.”

“Too right.” Toby ducked again as an arrow pierced the mast above his head. “Let the
Phoenix
tear them apart.”

Peel stepped out of his way as Toby ran towards a break in the battle ahead, ready to fight his way to the prow.

Before the bridge, Uma and Marcus fought to protect
Big Pad and Dee. They had set up a car roof as a shield from arrows, and between them were pushing soldiers back. The fury and frustration on Big Pad’s face was horrible to behold. Toby knew that Paddy was aching to move. Dee lay at Pad’s feet, her eyes closed. Her hands were tucked across her chest, keeping them out of arrow range, but it gave her a terrifying semblance of death. Toby stumbled in shock, but then he realized that her chest was moving up and down.

“Toby,” Uma cried. “You’re alive.” Her face lit up.

“Uma, pay attention,” Big Pad yelled.

She turned and thumped a familiar pig-faced soldier across the shoulders with her club. He stumbled towards Marcus, whose eyes lit up. “You!”

Toby ran to help, but Marcus’s blade came up and blocked his arm. Toby stared at him, incredulous.

“This one attacked Dee. He’s mine,” Marcus growled.

Toby backed away and took Marcus’s place next to Uma.

The soldier licked his lips, nervously. One sleeve of his grey uniform was shredded and his left arm hung at his side.

“Remember her?” Marcus gestured towards Dee, forcing the soldier to turn towards the
Phoenix
’s second in command.

The soldier tossed his head and looked behind to call for backup.

“I don’t think so.” Uma raised her club.

The deck shuddered under Toby’s bare feet as the
Phoenix
strained harder to escape the lines that held her to the dock. Several of the attacking force, unused to being on board a ship, staggered and fell.

“What’s your name?” Marcus stepped towards the teetering soldier.

“Why, so you can tell your
puta
who put her down?” The soldier laughed, but his eyes darted, seeking the backup that was not appearing.

“What’s your name?” Marcus roared.

“Why must you know?” The soldier wiped sweat from his face.

“So that when I rip your soul from your body, I can curse it.” Despite his grief and exhaustion, Marcus was a whirlwind.

The soldier tried to lift his sword in time, but he was slow, perhaps still thinking of Marcus’s threat and, between one breath and another, the soldier was staring down at the fishing spear buried deep in his chest.

He opened his mouth to speak, but blood bubbled out from it. He sunk to his knees and Marcus bent to his ear.

“What is your name?” Marcus whispered.

The soldier shook his head and dropped his sword from numb fingers.

Marcus picked it up. “This is for Dee.” He grabbed the soldier by the shoulders and dragged him to Dee’s side.

“She’ll want to see that when she wakes up, too.” Marcus’s smile was a humourless grimace.

Toby ran forward into the battle. “I’m going to help the captain,” he shouted.

A figure flanked him and he turned to see D’von with a Tarifan sword in one hand and a rusty bicycle chain wrapped around the other. The teen was stumbling against the movement of the ship, but just managing to keep his feet as he fought.

A lyrical whooping caught Toby’s attention and he ducked just in time to see Ayla at the captain’s side. The blade of her sword was crimson from pommel to tip and even though she held her broken arm close to her side, she moved with grace.

Toby altered his course and ran at a diagonal until he found himself next to them. Together he and Ayla engaged the nearest soldier.

Toby blocked a sword aimed for Ayla’s head and stepped in front of her.

“What are you doing?” She spun around him and slashed at the pirate’s legs. Toby blocked another slash of
his sword. “I don’t need you to protect me,” she shrieked.

“I’m not.” Toby ducked and Nix clanged against a railing as his arm was knocked aside by a vicious side sweep.

Ayla twisted in front of his torso, blocked and kicked. Toby pulled Nix back round and intercepted a slash aimed for her throat. She slid sideways, allowing him space to fight and aimed a sweep at the soldier’s legs, pulling him off balance and on to the tip of the sword D’von had stolen from a fallen soldier.

D’von jabbed forward. “That’s for my sister.” Each time he struck, D’von said the same thing. Toby’s heart clenched but he turned his focus as another fighter aimed for Ayla. He bounded in front of her, ending up shoulder to shoulder with his father.

“Toby.” The captain acknowledged him and they thrust together, pinning the attacker, one on each arm.

Toby pulled Nix free just as he felt a kick to the back of his legs and staggered to one side.

“I told you to stop protecting me.” Ayla lowered her foot and glared.

Ignoring her, Toby looked for the next threat just as the
Phoenix
quaked, shivered and, finally, something gave way.

For the length of a few heartbeats, everyone on board, soldier and pirate alike, stopped and stared as the jetty
cracked. Pilings collapsed and bollards splashed into the surf. Timber snapped and rained into the sea but great hunks of the dock remained attached to the lines and these swung, clattering into the hull of the
Phoenix
like hammers. The soldiers on the pier screamed as the boards beneath them vanished and they fell, or were caught by sliding lines and dragged into the sea.

The
Phoenix
jerked and almost flew backwards, churning the pier into shards.

The soldiers remaining on board gaped for a moment, then the first one jumped. It was a long fall from the railing of the
Phoenix
into the sea; but it was that or be trapped on the ship as she left.

Toby leaned close to Ayla. “Mission accomplished,” he murmured.

“Yes.” Her voice was faint and Toby realized that she was swaying out of time with the rise and fall of the waves and the pressure of the wind. She was deathly pale.

“Ayla?” Toby reached for her, too slow. The girl collapsed as though someone had cut the last string holding her up and her head banged on to the deck.

“Uma!” Toby yelled, as he dropped to his knees. Ayla made no movement.

D’von put his hand on to her forehead. “She’s hot.”

“Uma!” Toby shouted again.

The ship’s doctor kneeled beside him, placing her cool hands on Ayla’s head. “These burns need treating, this arm needs setting and plastering, there’s some infection in there, and she’s in severe shock. She might have concussion now, too.” Her fingers moved swiftly, but gently, assessing
each injury. “I can’t believe she’s kept on her feet so long, let alone fighting. Carry her to the mess hall, Theo.” She tugged gently at the bag, but Ayla held it fast.

“Leave it with her,” Toby said. “It’s wrong to take it now.”

Uma nodded. “Careful now, Theo.” She spoke as the pirate lifted Ayla into his arms, almost snagging her broken arm.

“I’m coming, too.” Toby hovered at her side.

Uma shrugged. “If you don’t mind helping. I can always use a hand.”

Ayla lay unconscious on the big central table with her face turned towards Toby. He held the fingers of one hand poised above her cheek, wanting to comfort her with his touch, but not knowing whether he should.

“She’s pretty,” Uma commented, giving him a shrewd look.

“She’s brilliant,” Toby said, without thinking. Then he flushed. Uma smiled into the big sink where she was washing her hands.

“First thing, we have to clean and treat these burns.” She scrubbed between her fingers. “I’ll have to get that disgusting shirt off her.”

“Um.” Toby reddened even further.

“I’ll do that. Go and fetch me a sheet or a blanket.”

Toby started towards the door.

“A clean one,” Uma shouted.

Toby returned with the best blanket he could find. His own, he had been horrified to find, was covered in soot, but Rita’s looked and smelled clean. He held it up and edged into the room, keeping his eyes firmly on the floor.

Uma took the blanket from him and he felt his ears growing hot. “Go and wash your hands while I get her ready,” Uma said, her voice turning serious.

Toby edged towards the sink, keeping his back resolutely turned to the table. “You can look now.” Uma threw the shirt towards the rubbish and Toby returned to the table.

Ayla lay beneath the blanket. Her good hand still clutched her bag, but her broken arm was twisted on top of the blanket and her sword lay on the floor beside the table.

“Sit down, Toby, before you fall down,” Uma snapped. “You’re almost as bad as she is, driving yourself to exhaustion. I’ll take another look at you once I’m done.”

Toby perched as close to the table as he could. Three buckets of water sat beside Uma, and two of them steamed gently. A pile of clean cloths lay to the side. “I’ve injected some morphine, so we can treat the burns.” She gathered Ayla’s hair and pushed it towards her good side. “Thank gods for that aeroplane you salvaged, Toby.” Then she
rested her fingers on Ayla’s shoulder with a feather-light touch. “Some of these are third-degree burns.” She shook her head. “She’ll be suffering from dehydration on top of everything else. At least the nerve damage means they won’t be hurting so much. The other burns will have been helped by immersion in the cold seawater. Now we need to soak the area in the cool water for ten minutes.”

She handed some of the cloths to Toby. “Here, wet these in this bucket; then lay them on her arm and chest. Keep changing the cloths as they start to warm up or dry out.”

“She’s so hot.” Toby flinched as the back of his hand came into contact with Ayla’s throat.

“That’s the infection.” Uma chewed her cheek. “I’ve loaded her up with antibiotics and I’ll have to give her some of my stock when she goes back to the
Banshee
.”

Toby replaced the first cloth, which was already warm to the touch.

“You’re doing great.” Uma checked the cloths around Ayla’s elbow. “A couple more minutes and we can start cleaning.”

“Cleaning?” Toby swallowed. The skin beneath the cloths looked fragile – giant blisters threatened to pop with each press of material and singed skin curled around raw-looking wounds.

“It’ll be all right.” Uma peeled the cloths away and
dropped them into the bucket of cold water. Then she squirted some soap from a Médecins Sans Frontières bottle into the second bucket. As the water foamed she dampened two fresh cloths. “Here.” She handed one to Toby. “Scrub the area
gently
. Be careful not to burst any blisters; they protect against infection. We’re just trying to remove loose dead skin. Can you do that?”

Toby swallowed. “I can try.” He dabbed at Ayla’s skin gently with the cloth, holding his breath the whole time.

“A little harder, Toby. Like this.” Uma showed him, moving in circles around the burns.

Toby pressed harder, terrified that he might burst a blister. He froze as Ayla groaned and twisted.

“Keep going.” Uma didn’t look up. “I want to get that arm reset and splinted before she wakes up.”

Toby gritted his teeth and rubbed in wider circles. The cloth was soon blackened.

Eventually Uma smiled at him. “Done. Now we have to rinse off the excess soap with clean warm water.” She dunked a cloth in the third bucket and washed Ayla’s skin until the blanket covering her became damp at the edges. “I’m going to pat the area dry and you’re going to cover it with this sterile gauze.” She handed him a packet and he pulled it open. As Uma dried Ayla’s skin, Toby lay piece after piece of gauze over the burns. Finally Uma wrapped
a bandage around her arm and upper torso, holding the whole thing in place.

“Good job, Toby. If you like, you can hold her hand while I sort out this broken bone. When she wakes up, I’m going to need you to get her to drink as much as she can. In small sips. There’s only one of me and I have to get back to Dee. She still needs help. And there are a lot of untreated injuries on deck, too.”

Toby nodded. “And Rita and Harry.”

“Rita and Harry? What? Where are they?” Uma faced him with a frown.

“They … they’re in the wreck room. That’s where we came in. They were too injured to come up on deck. Hasn’t anyone said?”

Uma’s brows came together, her face thunderous. “You just let me treat this sailor from the
Banshee
, when you knew that two of our own were too injured to
move
.”

“I’m sorry, I-I didn’t think.” Toby choked. His hand twitched on Ayla’s. Of course Uma was right – Rita and Harry should have come first. How could he have forgotten them?

“Toby, I get it.” Uma was already gathering her medical kit and running for the door. “She’s the first girl you’ve ever seen. But crew comes first – always.” She disappeared down the corridor.

Toby sat next to Ayla, unable to move. He would never have believed for one moment that he could have put the
Phoenix
’s crew second to anyone or anything else. What did it mean that this girl had driven every other thought from his head?

“I’m a monster,” Toby muttered. “This can’t happen again.” But one hand still covered hers.

Abruptly Toby was overcome with a wave of weariness and he laid his forearm on the table, dropped his head and slept.

Ayla twitched beneath him and Toby woke up. He opened gritty eyes and stretched. He ached in places he hadn’t ever known he could ache. Even his thumb muscle hurt from gripping Nix. Toby rubbed his eyes and looked at Ayla.

She still slept. Her black lashes lay in stark contrast to her pale cheeks, but Toby realized that she had some colour now, and that her chest was rising and falling more calmly.

“She’s looking better.” The captain’s hand landed on his shoulder and Toby jumped. Immediately he released Ayla’s hand.

While he slept, the mess hall had become crowded. Lamps now lit the shadows and on a table to his right, Rita also slept, her torso tightly bandaged. Big Pad was
back too, strapped to his table, his eyes firmly fixed on Dee, who remained unconscious. Marcus held her hand, his own injuries untreated. A queue of pirates with various minor cuts and bruises slumped against the far wall and to his left, Uma bent over Harry.

Toby’s eyes widened as she stood up, and pulled Harry’s scarf over his face.

“Is he…?”

“He didn’t make it.” Barnaby sank down on to the bench next to his son. “Uma did her best.”

“If she’d have got to him sooner…?” Toby felt sick. His friend was dead.

A lamp flickered and Barnaby shook his head. “Uma was amazed he even made it back to the ship. He slipped away without ever waking up.” Tears shone in his eyes. “I owe him my life. He and Rita, Carson and Dobbs took the brunt of the initial attack and gave me time to talk them into capturing rather than killing us.”

“Which gave us time to come for you.” Without thinking, Toby took Ayla’s hand again and she settled into a more comfortable sleep, the frown lines on her face smoothing away.

“You saved us yesterday, Toby. I’ll never forget it.” Barnaby put his arm around his son’s shoulder.

“Yesterday?” Toby blinked.

“It’s after midnight.” Barnaby rubbed his eyes. “We’re anchoring in a smuggler’s cove. Now … are you going to tell me why that girl from the
Banshee
was so keen to help me back to the ship?”

“Nell still wants the coordinates for the solar panels,” Toby sighed. “That’s why Ayla is here. She was sent to make sure you weren’t captured by the Tarifans, so Nell could get the coordinates from you.”

“Then the danger is as great as ever.” Barnaby’s lips twisted. “Ashes,” he said quietly.

“Just protecting her investment, she said.” Toby stroked Ayla’s hand as he spoke.

“We need the solar panels ourselves,” Barnaby whispered. “You understand that?”

“Of course. We can’t get to the island without them.” Toby was surprised that his father would even ask. “I just wish there was some way to pay her back.” His fingers twitched. He lowered his voice, as if Ayla would hear him. “We can’t even let her keep the map.”

“Map?” Barnaby raised his eyebrows.

Toby glanced at the bag Ayla still clutched, even in sleep. “We found a map in the portmaster’s office. I think it might actually show the way to the island.”

Barnaby stared at his son. Then he dragged his fingers through his tangled beard. “You mean
the
island?”

Toby nodded.

“Such a thing can’t possibly exist, we would have heard of it. No one knows for sure where the island is, therefore there can’t be a map.”

“The portmaster couldn’t translate it.” Toby’s eyes remained on the bag. “He was obviously trying, but Hiko could read it. He said the title of the document was ‘Volcano Island’.”

“Volcano island,” the captain repeated slowly. “That could be anything.”

“But it could be
the
island. An unnamed isle, brought out of the sea by a volcano,” Toby pressed. “The portmaster
really
wanted the map translated and it was locked up.”

The captain sucked air in through his teeth. “And you say you have this map?”

“Not exactly.” Toby looked at the bag again, just as Ayla opened her eyes.

As before, Ayla went from fast asleep to firing on all cylinders. The fog cleared from her eyes and Toby snatched his hand away from her as she shot into a sitting position, trapped the blanket edge to her chest with the bag, and alternated her glare between Toby and his father.

She didn’t bother asking what had happened to her; instead she coolly assessed the dining-room-come-hospital and then looked at her arm, plastered to the elbow.

“Who did this?” She lifted her plastered fist.

“Uma is our doctor.” The captain leaned forward. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine.” Ayla tossed her head. No weakness showed in her posture or expression.

“You’ve just woken up, you must be feeling awful.” Toby picked up the drink he had promised to make her sip. “Here. Uma said you needed this.”