A Pirate's Agony (Legends of the Soaring Phoenix Book 3) Read Online Free PDF Page A

chin. The scar reminded Amadi of the Capt’n, and he wondered again where he was.
    “You protected da girl,” the man said.
    “Aye, I did,” Amadi said, lowering his voice so as not to wake Chloe.
    “You shouldn’t have brought her here.”
    Amadi bunched his eyebrows. “Why?”
    The slave leaned forward, but he was shackled to the bars. “Da missus is a witch.”
    Amadi tensed. Since the last battle on Zuto’s island, he’d had enough of witches and their strange ways, except for Hannah and Mariah. They weren’t evil. 
    A bald man nodded. “The mistress claims to practice voodoo.” He looked over his shoulder as if someone was behind him, listening. He lowered his voice. “But she’s twisted it. Made it evil. She done killed her last husband.” 
    “I don’t fear witches,” Amadi said. His voice was strong. Maybe too strong.
    The driver glanced over his shoulder and glared.
    “You should,” the scarred man said. He lowered his voice, and Amadi detected fear.
    “The mistress picks a buck an’ takes ’im to her bed,” the man said. “If he pleases her, she’ll keep him in da house until she tires. When she tires, she tortures him.” He rattled his chains. “But that ain’t da worst part. She’ll order his death. Boiled alive. Dat little girl would be better elsewhere. Any place is better.”
    Amadi wanted to debate, but the man’s argument made sense. “What about da redhead with her? Is she a witch too?”
    The scarred man shook his head. “I don’ know nothin’ about her. She’s never far from the mistress. Not sure why. But I think it’s magic, the darkest magic.”
    Amadi clenched his bound wrists. “Why do you think dis?”
    “Because bad things happen around her. I think she’s cursed.”
    Amadi didn’t respond. He understood curses all too well. 
    The conversation died as quickly as it had started. No one spoke as the wagon creaked along the rocky road and each time the horses’ hooves clomped on the cobblestone, they jostled into each other. Soon, he’d be assigned to a slave gang again and forced to work in the fields. He desperately missed the open sea and the salty air on his face—the right to make decisions or offer an opinion on the Soaring Phoenix without fear of reprisal.
    The sun sank lower as the horses pulled into the slave quarters—a bunch of broken down wooden shacks. Weeds—oleander, nightshade, dumb cane—grew around the shacks. All deadly. Unease settled into his taunt muscles. He didn’t remember the poisonous weeds being here when he was enslaved.
    He whispered to the man next to him. “What’s with da deadly weeds? They weren’t here when I was here.”
    The man moistened his lips. “Spells. The mistress uses them for evil purposes.” 
    The cage door swung open.
    The man lowered his gaze and stopped talking.
    Amadi cursed his blight. Gèrard Dubois stood with his feet shoulder length apart and held a cat-o’-nail-tails in his hand. “Hurry and get out.”
    Dubois was uglier than what Amadi remembered, with his dark eyes and curled lip. He had been Jacques D’Aubigne’s overseer, and Amadi had hoped that after Dubois’s last entanglement with the Fiery Damsel , he’d stay clear, but he wasn’t that smart.
    Amadi nudged Chloe. “Wake up, lass. We’re here.” He tried to keep his voice calm so as to not scare the mere chit, but the vacant eyes of the slave children huddled around their mothers left little doubt the horror they’d witnessed.
    Chloe blinked open her eyes. “Mummy?” She clasped his arm.
    “Shhh, we need to move.” He tilted his head for her to move, afraid if she hesitated, she’d experience Dubois’ whip.
    “I said now,” Dubois said.
    Chloe’s eyes widened, and she stood, her little legs trembling. She stumbled after the men, but kept glancing back. Amadi forced his cramped legs to move and maneuvered out of the wagon, keeping his head down, hoping Dubois wouldn’t recognize him. But his fortune hadn’t been