Fengel sighed. "I don't know. That gemstone would make us all rich. And we'd get to keep the treasure in the holds." He sighed internally. He really wanted to keep that treasure. And more than that, what if Natasha got her hands on the gem? It was unlikely, but possible. He had left her on the same beach that the Perinese sailors had ended up on.
The more he thought about it, the more the idea preyed upon him. He had her ship, but what if she got the gem? What if she was the one to bring it back to Grey? She'd be able to afford another airship at the least. She would come for him.
Lucian shook his head "No, we're definitely better off without it. Just thought you'd like to know." He stood. "Evening then, sir. I'll go make sure Lome is settled, then hit the sack myself."
Henry put away the wine bottle. Then he moved to prepare his captain's bedding for him.
"Worship fires," muttered Fengel. He sat upright as it came to him. "Lucian, give Maxim a new heading. Dead east. Watch for anything unusual. Skeleton crew: I want everyone rested and fed."
His first mate paused at the door. "Sir?"
"I saw something on the horizon to the east just before we came down here. Henry did as well. Now that I think about it, it simply must be one of those tribal worship fires the mad captain described." Fengel stood from his chair, removed his boots, and moved to the bed. His officers sputtered, the both of them trying to dissuade him at the same time.
"Enough!" he said with the iron voice of command. "We'll have our cake and eat it too, and make sure that Natasha won't get a slice at all. Wake me when we see something. We've got a gemstone to find."
Chapter Fifteen
Mordecai swung his cutlass at the thick foliage. Four of the tightly packed nettles fell, brushing against his unprotected forearms. Pain bloomed where they touched him, his skin feeling like it had caught fire. He clenched his jaw to keep from making any sound, yet a strained grunt pushed itself from his lips.
Morning sunlight illuminated the jungle in shades of pink and blue, though it was still too low to cast any real light in the clearing through which they forged. And the clearing was anything but. Nettles grew thickly in the space, shooting up to head height from the rich earth beneath their feet. Encompassing the clearing was the jungle; dark, dangerous, and impenetrable. To their right hung the Stormwall, close enough to shake the jungle canopy with its gusts and breezes. Directly ahead to the south rose a rocky crag, jutting up from the jungle canopy maybe a league farther on. Up above it hung their prize. The ragged form of the Copper Queen dangled in the breeze, somehow snagged in such a way to halt its aimless drifting.
Natasha followed on his heels, widening the path with her own blade and muttering a constant low-grade stream of invective against her husband, the jungle, and the baser attributes of the Goddess herself. Mordecai heard her gasping breaths between each curse. She was getting tired, finally.
Behind them followed the crew, or what remained of it. Their march had been forced, pushing through the night in desperation after the drifting airship. They followed it across the Silverpenny River and into the jungle on the southern bank. Through thick foliage, poisonous creepers, and surprise quicksand they ran. Numerous obstacles presented themselves. Sometime around midnight, after the second aerial attack by the aggressive, venomous spiders living in the lower branches of the surrounding trees, some of the men decided to make a stand. They refused to go any further without rest. Natasha accommodated them, leaving their corpses to feed the rich earth of the jungle floor.
Fengel had won again. Somehow he had escaped the predicament they had left him and his men in, gotten back aboard the Queen, made it through the Stormwall, and then crept up on them, taking Natasha's Reavers utterly by surprise. But how?
It was an academic question. Without another airship they'd be stranded in the jungle, at the mercy of whatever had killed the crew of the Albatross. They'd also miss any chance of getting the treasure back. Or any chance at revenge.
Oh, yes. Especially revenge.
Mordecai let his rage burn slowly, the fuel that kept him going. After a few more minutes they reached the edge of the clearing, skin blistered and swollen from the sting of the nettles. Natasha again took the lead and he fell back to rest his arm. He followed her back into the grip of the jungle.
Darkness enclosed them again. Beneath the upper canopy it almost seemed another world. The earth at their feet was rich and dark, thick ferns growing wild. Here and there lay deadfall trees, but there was surprisingly little dead foliage. Overhead grew the banyan and baobabs, all laced together and fighting for sunlight. The air was musty and sweet, like fruit set out for too long and gone to rot. Branches swayed overhead as the pirates moved, a sign of the monkeys and lemurs that leapt from branch to branch, spying on them from high above. Mordecai kept a wary eye about. Last evening they had been attacked by poisonous snakes, jungle cats, and unnaturally large spiders.