Anne gritted her teeth at the sight as she jumped into the fray. She joined William; injured as he was, he was having a challenging time of it.
The man he was facing had an injury as well: a bullet wound in the chest, but he seemed unhindered by it. He poked and prodded William with his sword, testing William's defences as William danced out of the way. The man was fast, but William was the better fighter.
William and Anne worked with each other, years of training combining in a beautiful ballet of blades. As William aimed for the man's neck, Anne swung her cutlass low and up in an arc towards the torso. The enemy swiped both blades away with a single strike. Anne and William moved with the enemy's sword, twisting and tangling them together.
William stepped in and moved his sword forward. The tip of his blade caught on the man's crossguard. He flicked his wrist in a firm, practiced motion, and the man's sword moved up with his. The man had no choice but to let go of his weapon.
Anne dropped her weapon, and she too stepped in with both her hands forward. Just as Alexandre had taught them, she smacked her hands together directly in front of the man's face as hard as she could. The sound of the clap, the proximity of her hands to the middle of the man's eyes, and the confusion of the action coupled together in perfect harmony.
The man took a few steps backwards as he shook his head. The hollow calm in his eyes and on his face was gone, and it was as if he had awoken from a dream where he had been falling. Anne had broken the trance, and the man was dropped back into the tangled thoughts of someone in the middle of a life-or-death situation. His hand reached for the wound in his chest as if he only just noticed the pain from the bullet.
Before he could choose to fight or take flight, William stepped forward again in a riposte stance and struck the man in the gut with his sword. William pulled the blade out and retreated a few steps as blood poured from the wound.
No longer under the protection of the trance, the man cried out in pain. He held fast to the wound, trying to keep it closed, to stop the blood, and to keep his guts inside where they belonged.
Anne picked up her blade now that her opponent was no longer a threat and turned around to help with the rest of the crew. When she had a chance to look over the battlefield, she noticed that, despite the rough start, the crew were turning the battle around and using Alexandre's method to dispel the trance. They were lucky the trance on Silver Eyes' men wasn't as deep or as strong as the islanders. They had lost a few men, but with the secret technique their enemies weren't prepared for, as well as the superior numbers, they were winning.
"Captain, look," William called, pointing to the sea.
Anne turned her attention to the sea, to the Queen Anne's Revenge. The ship was not staying away from harbour as they had intended, but it wasn't landing ashore either. The ship was heading towards the town.
Please, God, don't tell me Christina thinks to take the fight into the town.
Anne watched as the ship came closer and closer to the town's harbour. The cannons on the harbour, a higher calibre than the ones pointed inland on the stockade, fired on the ship. Most missed with the erratic bobbing of the ship, but a few hit their mark and tore into their home.
The sound of battle around her brought Anne back to the field, and she glanced at the crew once more. Her men were finishing up the fight, with most of the enemy dispatched. The uninjured carried the injured off the field to attend their wounds as best they could be without Alexandre there. There was no more threat, and the stockade gates were now closed as well, indicating no further reinforcements would be sent their way for the moment.
The sound of cannons pulled Anne's gaze back to the sea. Their ship had turned now, no longer on a collision course for the harbour. As the broadside faced the town, the cannons at the bow fired off, but only two at a time. Each new shot had a small delay between them as they fired into the town.
Anne could see clearly where the cannons were hitting, but not why. They weren't aiming for the cannons firing back at them.
What is Christina doing?
Shot after shot laid into the town, breaking apart some of the taller structures with the large iron balls. As the ship fired, they too took on more damage. Whatever Christina's intention, it was not a gamble Anne felt was worth the amount of destruction they were causing.
Then, with a thunderous clang, a cannonball hit the huge golden bell in the centre of town. The bell knocked against the top of the tower, breaking the structure apart with such force it sent the wood flying in all directions. The bell itself tumbled end over end in the air in a frenzy of movement and sound as the striker hit the sides of the bell over and over. After a dozen rotations, the bell fell to the ground, out of sight beyond the stockade, and rang out for the last time, the strange tone warped by the damage from the cannon and the fall, no longer the same haunting melody it once was.
The ship, their purpose fulfilled, turned away from the town and away from the defending cannons protecting the harbour. They let loose a few more volleys, hitting one of the cannon battlements and damaging one of the ships at anchor before the broadside was at too far an angle.
Anne shook her head, her anger replaced with mild frustration. Without the threat of the bell, either
