The pirate threw a bag of coins down on the table, making a thud heavy enough to shake the crooked and rotting wood. Elfyn O Se considered the leathered bag, pretending currency had any worth here in the Caltanissa Archipelago, then folded his hand. The pirate stared at him, then folded his own hand, and a second pirate pulled the cards back into the deck. Elf watched the man across the table closely. He was older, beaten down by the brutality of the archipelago; his skin yellow and his skull protruding through his face. Beneath sixteen layers of shabby clothes, Elf could see skin. He could also see malice in those features, a fire beneath the greasy hair and red eyes, and since Elf had not won a single round so far, the threat was more than warranted.

‘So,’ he said, flashing the gaps between his teeth. ‘You ain’t a tourist.’

‘What made you think I was?’ Elf asked. Next to him, Mihri shot him a look. She had positioned herself between Elf and the dealer, watching both of them with not a single speck of trust across her features. His companion sat straight with her arms crossed and scorn written across her face, probably wishing she was anywhere else. Elf had to admit, he would have preferred a different meeting point. Though the space was made for private meetings between two people - card dealer optional - the pirate sitting across from him had bought four massive cronies with him. Each of their chests were bare and their muscles scarred by infection, the smell of sweat as heavy as the stifling air. If a fight were to break out, Elf was sure no-one could move enough to pull pistols out without pushing someone through the wall. The added disadvantage was the fact they were on their ship.

The pirate didn’t answer his question. Instead, he waved a bony, mummified hand at the dealer, who began dealing a new set of cards. Mihri watched closely for signs of sabotage, while Elf kept his eyes on his adversary across the table. He knew the answer to the question anyway; he wasn’t a pirate, and it was written all over him as clearly as the grime that covered the table. He was dishevelled, but not dirty, his dark hair long and unkempt, but washed and falling over his face in a curl he couldn’t control. His leather coat was old and wearing at the seams, but the worth it used to carry still clung to the fabric like a ghost that couldn’t let go. Elf wondered if the pirate had figured him out or not. If he did, he wouldn’t be the first.

Elf had sailors blood running through him, as familiar with the ocean as most people were with walking, but in the company of Mihri - who could get seasick on the calmest of waters - the roughness of the sea spray and violent storms lost its edge. Unlike him, Mihri Munnamurrah held onto the finery of her old life, her dress clean and pressed, and the leather holding her blade to her waist was stiff and new and unblemished. She was a tall woman, broad around the shoulders with dark skin and darker eyes, her black curls cut short and fluffy around her jaw.

‘What do you say…’ Elf asked the pirate. ‘We start making some real bets?’

‘You ain’t won a single card all night,’ the pirate said.

‘I see that as a win on your end,’ Elf said.

The pirate only narrowed his eyes. He wasn’t stupid, though Elf had been hoping he was. Mihri glared at him, then kicked him under the table, making him yelp. She leaned over, her voice barely a breath against his ear.

‘They’re possessed.’

Elf regarded the pirates around him. He hadn’t noticing anything off about them — different from other pirates at least — but Mihri had always been more observant than him. He gave a small nod, and she pulled away. The dealer pushed the cards across the table, and Elf considered the hand. If he waved two of the cards he had a chance, and there were four cards out of the six left in the dealers deck that could give him the highest hand. He waved two cards away.

‘Name something you want, and I’ll name something I’ll take,’ Elf said.

The pirate laughed. ‘You throwing around stupid words, kid. Maybe I want your guns, or your ship?’

Elf grinned back, then reached into his pocket and pulled out an old, rusted engine part, throwing it down on the table. He had no idea what it was or what it did, but he had been told it was rare. The pirate’s smile faded.

‘Where’d you get that?’ he demanded.

Elf shrugged. ‘Got plenty of them. Didn’t you hear about that massive war down south? A lotta ships going down, and the parts are just… there.’

‘Why ain’t you taken them?’

‘Because they’re good to bargain with.’

The pirate glared at him, and silence fell over the room. Elf still couldn’t see whatever Mihri had seen, but if she was right — and these pirates looked like they had seen better days — then a chance at escape was the one thing they couldn’t ignore. Real engine parts, not the bootleg stuff that ran through Caltanissa’s black markets, could get a ship out of these cursed waters and well into the mainland.

One of the other pirates leaned forward and plucked the part from the table. He turned it over with a narrow expression, then gave a nod and placed it down on the table. Elf foraged through his pockets for another one, and dropped it down with its pair.

The dealer’s hand struck fast, catching his wrist and slamming his hand down against the rotting wood. In a blink, Mihri had her cutlass pulled from her belt and held it against the dealer’s throat, and the pirate with the engine knowledge pulled is own sickle free and wrapped it around her neck. By the time Elf pulled his own pistol from his belt, all the other pirates had weapons ready, save for the dealer and the pirate at the head of the table. Elf directed his weapon towards the leader’s head, a steady thumb locking the flint into place.

‘What you asking for in return?’ the pirate asked, unbothered by the steel between his eyes. Elf moved his finger down to the trigger. Next to him, Mihri’s throat bobbed nervously, but her hold on her blade was sure.

Elf cocked his head forward. ‘I saw a chest behind the fat one.’

A sword was at his throat before he could blink, the cold steel pressing hard against his skin, the muscles of his larynx tightening.

He grinned. ‘So, it’s worth a bet.’

‘No,’ the pirate said.

‘Scared you’ll lose?’ Elf challenged.

The dealer grabbed the cuff of Elf’s coat and ripped it back, revealing the skin beneath. Elf’s false confidence crashed. In full view of the table was the mark that bound his soul, the jagged ring of black that formed a perfect circle beneath his palm. It reminded Elf of a ring left by a cold bottle of ale on a warm day, wobbly and thinner in some places compared to others, but a perfect circle all the same. He flinched, and the pirate at the end of the table laughed, low and confident.

‘You ain’t giving me nothing worth a bet,’ he said. ‘I don’t want your table scraps, and I’d bet the coins before I used them to buy your junk. You can’t leave the archipelago whether you have them or not; throw them out.’

Elf ripped his hand free from the dealer, lifting the pistol into the air and waving Mihri down. She threw him an angry look, then ripped her sword from the dealers throat and shoved it back into the scabbard. The pirate waved to his cronies, and they copied.

‘It don’t matter what they mean to me,’ Elf said. ‘What do they mean to you? How badly you want them?’

The pirate considered his words. He glanced at the dealer, then lifted his cards from the table and considered them. ‘How many others you got?’ he asked.

‘Two engine rings,’ Mihri said. ‘A compressor, a ventilation, and most of a fuel line.’

‘Yeah, what she said,’ Elf said. ‘Enough to get a full boat out of the archipelago.’ He lifted his boots onto the table, crossing them at the ankles to stretch out across the space and claim some of it back from the foul-smelling oafs around him. ‘I could go on and on about how I intend to break this pesky little curse, but you don’t care, do you?’

‘Ain’t as stupid as you look,’ the pirate said.

Elf waved the comment away. ‘What do you say? Can we stop with the back and forth and gamble like real men?’

‘I want to see the other parts,’ the pirate said.

Elf glanced over at Mihri, and when she only glared back, he offered a small wink. She rolled her eyes, then got to her feet and pushed past his chair to the door behind him. Moments later, she reappeared with Jian.

Yao Jian was a squirrelly thing, bony and oddly shaped, as though his skin didn’t quite fit over his skeleton. Jet black hair fell in uneven, choppy pieces over his shoulders. He stared at the scene with his dark, pointed eyes, always a little too wide, too unfocused, as though his attention was always somewhere else. Though, in a general sense, Elf supposed it was.

Jian reached into the pocket of his coat and threw down the rest of the parts, where they clattered and bounced across the wood. He shifted uncomfortably, then gave a single nod to Elf and ducked back out the door. Elf turned back to the pirate.

‘You can’t have the chest,’ the pirate said.

Elf threw his hands up in defeat. ‘Then you can’t have the parts.’

‘This is not a fair bet.’

‘Hard for me to call that when I don’t even know what’s in it.’

The pirate fell silent, stumped, and Elf bit down on his lip to stop from laughing. There had been truth to that statement though; he had no idea what was in the chest. All he knew was that the job required him to have it before the night was out.

‘No bet,’ the pirate said. ‘It ain’t worth that.’

Elf sighed and pulled his feet down from the table. It was time for plan two. He threw his cards down and reached for the engine parts, only for the sickle to dig into the underneath of his chin. He froze, and the pirate grinned.

‘You’ll be leaving them parts,’ he said.

Elf grinned and dropped back into his seat. ‘So the bet is on?’

He could see the desperation in the men around him; the desperation that felt so haunting and familiar, that he couldn’t afford to give into, the need to get out of these waters no matter the strength of his ship. He’d go and draft himself in that big fancy war if it meant he could get away from the monsters of the deep. The same feelings echoed in the face of the man in front of him, a man who had met the supernatural forces that lurked in the abyss, forces that no human was made to combat. Now they struggled with the battle against the undine, and those were ghosts that didn’t leave survivors. If this chest was connected to this job in any way, it had to be magic. The question was, were they willing to swap it for a chance to get away completely?

Elf would.

The pirate only smiled. ‘I told you already. No bet. You ain’t got nothing.’

Elf cocked an eyebrow. This is what he got for dealing with pirates. ‘You’re robbing me?’

The pirate spread his arms wide in invitation. In that moment, Elf did see the unnatural features of an undine. The spirit clung to the underneath of his skin, flashing a lightning bolt of silver through the eyes. It wouldn’t be long before those spirits turned to flesh, and the pirates were shells for them to inhabit. He also had no intention of going two versus four. He sighed again, then got to his feet.

Mihri threw him a wide-eyed look. ‘We’re leaving?’

‘I came for a bet, not a fight,’ Elf said.

‘And you’ll be leaving them parts,’ the pirate said.

Elf shrugged. ‘What am I going to do with them?’ They were the real thing, but they wouldn’t last long. The warship he had scored them from had been below the waves for months, and rust had claimed what he hadn’t salvaged.

When Mihri continued to stare at him, he grabbed her arm and dragged her to her feet. She shot him a dirty look, then pushed towards the door. Elf gave a mock bow towards the pirates, then followed. Mihri stood on the other side of the door, where Jian was still waiting. Jian gave a grin, then a nod. Plan two had been a success.

‘We’re walking away?’ Mihri demanded. ‘We need that chest!’

‘We’re not walking, we’re standing here,’ Elf said. He grabbed her arm again and forced it into motion, following the narrow hallway towards the gangway. Mihri struggled to keep up with his long strides, but didn’t pull away. When she spoke again, her voice was low and dangerous.

‘What did you do?’ she asked.

‘I didn’t do anything,’ Elf said. ‘You need to trust me, lovey.’

‘Oh god, we’re going to die,’ Mihri mumbled.

Both of them pushed out onto the dock to be blasted by rain lashing against the stone. Elf flinched as lightning lit up the sky, followed instantly by an earth-shaking boom. The storm that had only painted the sky grey when they had arrived was now on top of them, the wind howling like a wounded animal. It tore away from the shore though, and Elf had sailed worse.

Jian waited at the bottom of the gangway, his coat thrown over his head, which threatened to tear into the ocean as soon as he let go. Mihri squeaked as water drenched her dress and flattened her hair, but Elf kept his grip firm and pulled her into the storm. Cold seeped into his skin, turning his bones to ice, but he ignored it and rushed across the cobblestone dock towards the Ossory.

Lit only by streetlights that rippled their light across the stone wharf, his ship was small and old like a hunched woman, rocking wildly as spray blasted the shore. Though she was old, she was the kind of woman who would run a sprint with a bat in hand to swat at any monster that came at her, curved and bulky with a glint that could stare down any creature in the abyss below. She was a twin-mast with a steam engine and three thin, long towers extruding from the back. The front end of the ship was long and boxed at the front, with the cabin leading to the underneath only a simple iron cube. The wheel that pulled the ship into motion sat in front of the box leading down, the wooden deck shimmering with no intention of gripping the feet that dared stand on it.

Aitan Reitif stood by the gate on the deck, waiting for the three of them to approach so he could drop the gangplank, but Elf was faster and had no time to wait for that creaky old thing to drop. Instead, he made a running jump for the bow of the ship, catching the rope that anchored it in both hands and carrying the momentum into a spinning climb that launched him onto the ship. His boots slipped against the water-soaked wood and he stumbled, his heart lurching, but he quickly collected himself and rushed over to Aitan. He grabbed the rope that held the gangplank as the other man opened the door, and it crashed onto the ground with a bang that rivalled the thunder above.

‘Wind’s with us, cap’n,’ Aitan said. ‘But it’s gonna be a rough one.’

‘Can you do it?’ Elf asked.

‘Don’t insult me.’

‘Elf grinned and threw his head back towards the wheel, and Aitan rushed for it without another word. Jian crossed his path before he had time to blink, helping Mihri, who was slipping against the gangplank.

‘I know you can brace the sails in this!’ Elf had to yell over a sudden roar of wind that battered the ship. ‘You ready?’

‘You driving!?’ Jian called back.

Elf pointed to Aitan at the wheel, and Jian rushed for the main mast. With a single, hard pull, Elf lifted the gangplank, locked the gate in place, then turned and rushed for the cabin, taking the stairs two at a time.

‘What did you do, O Se?’ Mihri had followed him down, and was wringing the water from her skirt. Elf turned back to the crates that filled the tiny, industrial space, scanning the labels until he found the gunpowder.

‘Go to your cabin and get some rest,’ he ordered. ‘It’s about to get rough.’

‘What did you do?’

‘Right now, we need to get out of here, before they notice,’ Elf said. ‘Our main goal is getting out of his storm.’

‘Se!’ Mihri snapped. Elf turned and caught her glare.

‘I need your navigation when it clears,’ Elf said. ‘Let us worry about getting —‘

A boom echoed through the air above, hollow and lower than any thunderclap, and Elf cursed. He pushed past the gunpowder - it would be useless in the rain anyway - and dug up the shells for his six-shooters. Mihri said something else, but he ignored her as he grabbed a box and ran back up the stairs. His twin pistols hung on a nail by the door, waiting for this moment. He dropped his flintlock on the ground by the door and pulled both of them free, fumbling to load the bullets in. Beneath him, the mismatched clatter of footsteps told him that Mihri was rushing down the hall below, and struggling against the rocking of the ship.

‘We got company!’ Aitan called.

Elf rushed back outside, flinching as the rain lashed at his skin like knives, then ducked behind the wall again as another gunshot ricocheted past his head. Lightning blasted across the sky, multiple arcs ripping through the clouds and lighting up the pirate taking aim from the front of the ship. Elf aimed at the figure, and as the light died, he fired. A scream told him he hit his target, and as the figure fell over the edge of the deck, the noise was cut off by a boom of thunder.

‘They got canons, cap’n!’ Aitan shouted.

Of course they did. Ossory wasn’t the kind of ship to have anything that cool, but the lurch in the floor beneath him told him that the wind had caught the sails, and even without the engines powered up, they would tear out to see faster than any bullet.

He had forgotten to start the engine.

A hand snapped itself onto the gate of the gangplank, and Elf shot at it, turning one of the fingers into a bloody pulp as it disappeared beneath the ship once more. Another arm had caught the rope anchoring the ship, and Elf fired, missed, swore, and rushed towards it. As he passed Aitan, he ripped the other man’s scimitar from its hold on his belt and slammed it down on the rope, causing the man holding it to crash into the water below.

The ship shivered beneath him, then lurched powerfully enough to almost knock him off his feet. He turned, and saw Jian standing by the main mast, one rope clamped between his teeth and another two wrapped around his fists as he fought to keep the sails even. Beyond the shaking cloth, bursts of black smoke escaped from two of the chimneys. They puffed once, twice, then let out a long black plume, and Ossory was moving. Mihri was in the engine room.

Another boom tore through the air, and Elf threw himself onto the deck as a hole blasted through the taffrail, sending splinters of wood and metal flying. Elf swore, then glanced out the hole to see the canon on the front of the pirate ship turning to take another shot. He swore again.

‘Take cover!’

Aitan ducked behind the wheel, unable to let go in his attempt to keep it steady. Jian didn’t move, instead wrapping another layer of rope around his wrists and yanking hard. The sail above snapped into a smooth shape, and with another lurch, the ship was pulling out to sea.

The boom of the cannon was swallowed by a large clap of thunder, and another hole blasted through the taffrail. Metal splinters flew across the deck, and Jian crumbled, letting out a cry. Elf swore and struggled to his feet, slipping against the water pooling around him, and rushed over. The rope Jian held now flew around wildly, and Elf caught it in both hands, pulling it straight. His muscles strained, and tying it down made his entire body scream with the effort. When he was sure it was secure – at least for now – he lifted the smaller man from the ground and carried him towards the stairs, slowing as he reached Aitan.

‘I got this, cap’n. Go.’

Elf nodded and hoisted Jian further up into his arms, taking the stairs two at a time and ignoring Jian’s whimpers of protest. He turned away from the storeroom and down the hall to another branch of spiralling stairs that led down to the main room. Here the storm was muted, swallowed by the attempts at finery that held the room together. The polished wood had stained from years of battering with salt and storms, and the gas stove in the corner stood as nothing more than a holder of dirty laundry and rubbish. The sofa was moth eaten and stained, and much too small compared to the table in the middle of the room, but Elf dropped Jian down on it anyway.

Jian hissed in pain and lunged for his leg, where a jagged piece of metal was sticking out of his knee. Elf glanced at the skin around it, showing bloody and black through the hole in his pants, then gripped the shard and ripped it out. Jian cried out, and fresh blood spilled from the wound, but not so much that it was a concern.

‘You’ll live,’ Elf said.

‘Fucking hurts,’ Jian said.

Elf snorted, then stepped over to the sorry excuse for a kitchen and pulled the medic kit from a worryingly leaking cupboard. There wasn’t much left in it, but there was enough gauze to cover the wound and that was all he needed. He sat on the table as Jian struggled to pull his pants down and expose the wound completely. As Elf pulled the gauze straight and began to wrap the joint, he glanced back at where the treasure chest was sitting on the other side of the table.

Jian hissed and flinched, but Elf ignored the noises as easily as he ignored the warm blood staining his hands.

‘What do you think is in it?’ Jian asked.

‘I have no idea,’ Elf said. ‘They were willing to kill us to keep it.’

‘I noticed. It weighs nothing.’

‘So it wasn’t a struggle to switch it out?’

‘Nah. Aitan didn’t even need my help. He threw it over his shoulder and marched up the gangway.’

‘Huh.’ Elf glanced over at the chest again. Their decoy one had been heavier, both Aitan and Elf needing to lift it just to put it together, though from here they looked exactly the same. Black with bronze linings, and a lock made of jade and obsidian. The bronze had patterns etched into it, swirling lines that reminded Elf of water rippling deep beneath the surface. He had figured it was magic, though now he looked at it, he saw only a simple chest.

A creak of the floor outside warned him before Mihri stormed into the room, in one of her usual huffs. She still resembled a drenched rat, though now she was covered in soot and ash, and her eyes held a fire that told Elf she was intent on murder. She glared at him, then noticed the chest and faltered. Frowning, she opened her mouth to say something, then closed it again.

‘Oh, shoot me,’ Elf said. ‘We swapped them.’

Mihri pushed her hands into her hips. ‘Were those three words really hard to say?’ she demanded.

‘No, I just said them,’ Elf said.

Mihri glared at him. ‘You still don’t trust me.’

‘It was a need-to-know thing,’ Elf said. ‘I was flying on the seat of my dick out there.’

‘Last time you made a decision without the rest of us, we ended up in this mess,’ Mihri pointed out. Elf glowered. He had told her many times he didn’t want to be reminded that all of this was his fault. He knew that already.

‘Okay, but…’ Jian pushed himself into a sitting position. ‘What’s in it?’

‘I don’t care,’ Mihri growled.

‘Our freedom is in it,’ Elf pointed out. Though, as he said the words, he wasn’t entirely sure they were true.