Chris Wooding - Retribution Falls

Frey pushed through the press of bodies, with Malvery clearing the way ahead. Pinn and Jez came behind. Pinn had been subdued by his confinement in the Ketty Jay the night before, and Frey had extracted promises of good behaviour today. He charged Malvery with enforcing them, knowing how the doctor liked to bully Pinn.

It was fun to torment the young pilot now and then, but Frey knew how much it meant to him to see Retribution Falls before they left. Just so he could say he’d been. Just so he could tell Lisinda of his adventures, on that day when he returned in triumph to sweep her into his arms. Having asserted his authority, Frey was happy to give Pinn a little slack.

The stronghold was constructed in a squared-off horseshoe shape, with two wings projecting forward around a small interior courtyard. It was dull and forbidding, with square windows and iron-banded doors. Its walls were dark stone, streaked with mould. A place built for someone who had no interest in flair or aesthetics. A fortress.

Surrounding the stronghold was a ramshackle barricade of metal spikes and crossed girders, eight feet high and surmounted by wooden watchtowers. The watchtowers were manned by rifle-wielding pirates, who scanned the crowd below them, no doubt deciding who they’d shoot first if they had the chance. In the middle of the barricade was a crude gate, a thick slab of metal on rollers that could be slid back and forth to grant access to the courtyard.

Frey and the others fought their way to a vantage point as the gate began to open and the crowd erupted in ear-pummelling cheers. The floor shook with the stamping of feet. It occurred to Frey that they were standing on a huge platform that was held up by a scaffolding of girders, and that it might not be built to take this kind of weight. It would be an ignominious end to his adventure, to sink to the bottom of a foetid marsh beneath a hundred tons of unwashed pirate flesh.

It wasn’t until Orkmund climbed the steps to his stage that Frey caught sight of him. The pirate captain Orkmund, scourge of the Coalition in the years before the Aerium Wars, who disappeared fifteen years ago and was thought by most to be dead. But he wasn’t dead: he was building Retribution Falls. A home for pirates, safe from the Navy. A place where they could conduct their business in peace—with a hefty cut for Orkmund, of course.

Though he must have been in his mid-fifties, Orkmund still cut an impressive figure. He was well over two metres high, bald-headed and thickset, with squashed features that gave him a thuggish look. Tattoos crawled over this throat, scalp and arms. He wore a simple black shirt, tight and unlaced at the throat, to emphasise an upper body and arms that were heavy with muscle. He walked up to the stage with a predator’s confidence, surveyed the cheering crowd, and raised his arms for silence. It took some time.

‘Some of you know me by sight,’ he shouted. His voice, though loud, was still faint and thin by the time it reached Frey’s ears, and he had to concentrate to hear. ‘Some don’t. For them new to Retribution Falls: welcome. I’m Neilin Orkmund.’

The cheer that erupted at that drowned out anything else for a while. When the crowd was relatively quiet again, Orkmund continued.

‘I’m proud to see so many men and women here today. Some of the finest pirates in the land. Some of you’ve known of this place for years. For others, it’d only been legend until recently. But you’ve come at my call, and I thank you for that. Together, we’ll be an unstoppable force. Together, we’ll make an army like Vardia’s never seen!’

More cheers. Pinn and Malvery cheered along with them, caught up in the moment.

‘Now I know some of you are frustrated. Champing at the bit. You wanna get into action, don’t you? You wanna break some bones and smash some skulls!’

Another deafening cheer, accompanied by clapping and jostling that threatened to turn into a riot.

Orkmund held up his hands. ‘You’ve enjoyed my hospitality. You’ve dipped your beaks in the delights of Retribution Falls. And in return, I ask you only one thing: be patient.’

The pirates near to Frey groaned and muttered. Suddenly the fervour had gone out of the crowd.

‘I know you’re disappointed. No one wants to get out there more than me,’ Orkmund hollered. ‘But this ain’t no small task we’re taking on! We ain’t here to rob a freighter or steal a few trinkets from some remote outpost. We ain’t just a crew of fifty men, or a hundred. We’re a crew of thousands! And a crew of thousands takes time to gather and co-ordinate.’

There were reluctant mumbles of concession at this.

‘The time’s coming very soon. A matter of days,’ said Orkmund. ‘But I’ve brought you here today because I’ve something to show you all.’

As he spoke, a troop of armed pirates sallied out of the stronghold, guarding two dozen men who were carrying a dozen large chests between them. They carried the chests up onto the stage as Orkmund continued.

‘I know that there are doubters out there. What are we doing here? Why are we waiting? Who are we attacking, and why’s it still a secret?’ Orkmund said, prowling back and forth on the stage. ‘Well, first ask yourself: why’d you come to Retribution Falls? Why’d you answer my call, when you didn’t even know who you was fighting? For some, it was loyalty to me. For some, it was the call to adventure. But for most of you . . . it were this!’

He threw open one of the chests, and a gasp went up from the crowd.

‘Loot! Ducats! Money!’ Orkmund cried, and the crowd cheered anew, their spirits roused. He went to the next one, and threw that open, revealing that it, too, was full of coins. ‘All this, for you! Booty! A share for every man that survives, and a right generous share it is too!’ He threw open another one. ‘Now ain’t this worth fighting for? Ain’t this worth waiting a few more days for?’

The pirates howled with glee, shaking their fists in the air, driven rabid by the sight of so much money. If not for the respect they had for Orkmund and the multiple guns trained on them, they might have tried to storm the stage right then.

But while Pinn and Malvery were yelling themselves hoarse, Frey had spotted something. He turned to Jez. ‘Can you see the stage?’

She craned to look over the shoulder of the pirate in front. ‘Not really.’

‘Come here,’ he said, and crouched down to offer her a piggy-back.

‘No, Cap’n, it’s really alright.’

‘I need your eyes, Jez. Help me out.’

Since she couldn’t think of a good reason to protest, she climbed awkwardly onto his back and he lifted her up.

‘You know, my eyesight’s not all that great, I mean it’s—’

‘The last chest on the right,’ said Frey. ‘Describe it to me.’

Jez looked. ‘It’s red.’

‘Describe it more,’ he said irritably.

She thought for moment. ‘It’s very fine,’ she said. ‘Dark red lacquer. Kind of a branch-and-leaf design on the lid. Silver clasp in the shape of a wolf’s head. Oh, wait, he’s opening it.’

Orkmund was throwing open each chest, whipping the pirates into a frenzy with the wealth paraded before them. Frey didn’t need Jez to tell him that the red-lacquered chest was full to bursting with ducats.

And that was it. The final piece fell into place.

‘Everyone!’ he said. ‘We’re leaving.’

Pinn whined in complaint. Malvery raised a threatening hand to cuff him. ‘Fine,’ Pinn sulked. ‘Let’s go.’

Frey let Jez down to the floor. ‘Seen enough, Cap’n?’ she asked.

‘Oh yeah,’ he said. ‘I’ve seen enough.’

The streets were relatively quiet on their way back. Retribution Falls seemed cold and bleak without the din of drunken revelry. Frey stepped through the sludge of debris and bodily fluids from the night before, setting a quick pace. He was eager to get to the Ketty Jay. There was a purpose in his walk.