A Mutiny of Marauders

by Daniel Coleman

  Usually Nash could pick up on the faintest sarcasm, but Livi seemed entirely sincere. He couldn’t for the life of him imagine who she was talking about though.

  She said, “I’ve brought my viewers this far and it wouldn’t be sporting to leave them hanging now.”

  Her viewers. Fame had convinced her after all. It didn’t matter what her reason was, Nash felt like celebrating. He contented himself with a nod of the head. “I’ll make a plan with Srenners and Ahab while you … do your pre-travel routine.” He still had no idea why it took her forty-five minutes to get ready to climb into a carriage, especially with servants to pack for her and carry her luggage.

  Livi nodded and her expression went serious as she studied his face. There was no hint of teasing or sarcasm when she said, “Nash. I …” She went silent again, gazing into his eyes. With the tiniest of head shakes, she seemed to change her mind. “I’m trusting you with my life, Nash.”

  Pressure like he hadn’t felt on Hollow Island settled onto Nash’s shoulders. Until now they had been a team working side by side for mutual benefit. And now she was putting the responsibility of their safety on him?

  With the straightest face he could manage, he simply said, “I know.”

  Livi laughed. “Nice one, Han Solo.”

  Nash loved the sound of it. He pulled the door open, and she punched him in the arm as she walked past. He watched as she made her way gracefully up the stairs but didn’t follow. They could probably use a little time away from each other. Even though he was happy to still have such a capable partner, he couldn’t help but feel that taking Livi to the Cold side was going from the frying pan into the fire.

  Within the hour, Nash and Livi sat across from each other in a new-to-them carriage.

  Livi adjusted the angle of her parasol in the window and said, “These cushions are inadequate, the shocks are merda, and the paint job is embarrassing.”

  “Then it’s a good thing you’ll be crammed under the floorboards when we roll into the Cold side.” Nash stomped on the floor of the coach. “I’d just die if you had to be seen riding in this perfectly adequate carriage.”

  “Perfectly dumpy,” she said. “We could have at least waited until dark. Either that or hang curtains on this window.”

  “What happens if sunlight touches you?” asked Nash. “They told us in training that sunlight is one of Vamps’ weaknesses.”

  “Then it must be true,” she countered. “Unfortunately for you, you’ll never see it happen.”

  Nash hadn’t really expected her to tell him her weakness. They had established from the start that she wouldn’t go out in daylight, and he couldn’t really see any reason he needed to know more than that.

  Livi adjusted her position on the bench seat again. “For what they charged for this pedazo, they could have at least thrown in some pillows.”

  Srenners, Livi’s footman had known exactly who to talk to for smuggling purposes, but the price wasn’t cheap. In addition to trading in Livi’s luxury carriage, Nash and Livi had each kicked in half a gig to buy it. When they got close to the checkpoint, Livi would hide in the floor. Ahab, who had taken off his servant’s sash and bought some nice clothes, would ride with Nash. If anyone asked, Nash was a bodyguard, escorting Ahab to visit a relative on the Cold side.

  When Nash had asked Ahab why people didn’t have themselves smuggled to the Cold side all the time, Ahab asked why anyone would want to.

  “Would it have hurt to wait until sunset?” asked Livi. “It’s only an hour away.”

  “That’s an hour longer we get to hunt tonight,” said Nash. As long as there were no hiccups, they’d be in Ponce shortly after nightfall. Since it was one of the biggest cities on Hollow Island, there was a good chance the Reaper would stay in Ponce two or more nights, as he’d done in San Juan and Troy.

  It was true that the carriage wasn’t quite as plush as Livi’s, but the inter-kingdom road was nicer than most, so overall the ride was as smooth as they were used to. Though Krete was the closest city to the check point, it hadn’t developed as the fulcrum of trade for the Hot side. That was the capital, Troy.

  They made small talk on and off. Nash watched the greenery pass on the side of the carriage Livi wasn’t blocking. Having grown up in a concrete jungle, he couldn’t get enough of the real jungle. Someday he’d get a guide and go exploring to see more of what this beautiful island had to offer. A couple of miles out of Krete, the sun finally went behind trees and Livi lowered her parasol.

  The carriage sped up suddenly. A rap at the door made him sit up and look around. Srenners yelled, “Bombard a drab mob!” Livi’s footman only spoke in palindromes and this one meant nothing to Nash.

  Nash slid the window open and stuck his head out. Pouring out of the trees and catching up from behind was a group of people on horseback. They all wore flowing white shirts and matching vests. Pirates. “Marauders,” he told Livi after scanning the bio of the nearest one. Level 3 Jennies. It surprised him to see brigands within a few kilometers of the heavily guarded checkpoint.

  Even though the carriage had sped up, the Marauders were closing in fast.

  “I count…ten on this side,” she said through her fangs.

  After a moment, Nash said, “Thirteen over here. They’re all spread out. Won’t be easy to scatter them like a route of Wares.”

  Livi cursed. “Twenty three makes a full mutiny. Matching outfits even. This is an organized, disciplined mutiny. They’ll do whatever the Booty Master says.”

  “A disciplined mutiny?” asked Nash.

  “That’s what a group of Marauders is called.” She scowled at him. “I thought you used to watch the hollows.”

  “So if you know all the jargon, does that mean you know how to fight them?” The horses were gaining ground fast. Nash pulled his gun and made sure it was on Lead, then he dumped a handful of bullets from his flatpack into his pocket.

  “I wish,” said Livi. “All I know is that their skin is blade-proof.”

  He’d heard that, but there was no saying if it was true or not. “I hope that doesn’t mean bullet-proof too.” Nash had the nearest Marauder lined up in the sight of his gun.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Livi look over her shoulder at him. “Only one way to find out.”

  Nash wasn’t ready to shoot yet. “Can we pay them off?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Will they be scared off by a warning shot?” he asked.

  “I don’t think Pirates are scared of anything.”

  That rumor he definitely didn’t believe. “What will they do to us if they catch us?” Mainly he wondered what they would do to Livi given Pirates reputation as ravagers and pillagers.

  “I can’t be sure,” said Livi, “but I have a pretty good imagination.”

  The Marauders weren’t making any noise other than the pounding of the horses’ hooves, no attempts at communication, just racing up way too fast for Nash’s comfort. If they were Level 1s he might be able to believe that they were just playing around, but Level 3s didn’t play a lot of games from what Nash had seen.

  “We can’t lose this carriage,” he said, but he was thinking about losing more than that. They were still on the Hot side, so technically Livi hadn’t put her life in his hands yet. Not officially anyway, but he had to do whatever he could to protect her.

  “We don’t want a fight!” he yelled, gun still aimed at the crooked-nose Marauder.

  His words were answered with calls of “Yarr!” from most of the Pirates.

  The nearby Marauder pulled something from his belt and started swinging it from a rope over his head. It was a grappling hook, and he was eyeballing their wheel!

  “We can’t lose this coach,” Nash told himself. “Don’t hesitate.”

  He pulled the trigger.

  The gun boomed like a cannon and the Marauder flew backwards out of his saddle as if he’d been yanked by an invisible rope.

  “Over here,” called Livi. Nash jumpe
d to her window, stuck his gun out, and fired.

  The shot missed. Before he could get good aim, the Marauder threw a grappling hook. It connected with a clack. After a few bumpy revolutions, Nash felt the wheel shatter. Wooden splinters sprayed into the air.

  There went the whole plan, disintegrating like the wheel had. Without the coach, he didn’t know if he could get Livi past the checkpoint.

  The horses plunged ahead under Ahab’s goad, plowing the street with the axle, shaking Nash back into the carriage. He switched sides, but when the Marauders spotted the gun, they pulled back behind the carriage. Returning to Livi’s side of the coach, he scared off another without taking a shot. Eight bullets left and he didn’t want to waste them on targets too erratic to draw on confidently.

  By the time he reached his window again, he was too late to prevent a chubby Marauder from looping a catch pole around Ahab’s arm and dragging him from his seat. Ahab hit the ground hard. Nash put a bullet in the Marauder’s back, and he fell instantly to the ground. But the damage was done. The pole was secured to the Marauder’s saddle pommel and Ahab was being dragged by an obviously broken or dislocated arm.

  The jockeyless horses pulling the carriage slowed, then began pulling sharply to the side where the wheel was missing.

  They came to a stop perpendicular to the road. Nash could see all twenty-one Marauders closing in. They circled at a distance, brandishing sabers and yelling “Yarrr!” and “Avast ye!” Two men dismounted and secured Ahab, while a copper-haired woman held a dagger to his throat. From the dusky trees came the first whistle of the coquís.

  “Parlay!” yelled the woman. “Or yer landlubbin’ helmsman gets skewered.”

  “Parlay,” answered Nash. That was actually a good sign, since he was pretty sure parlay was sacred to Pirates. The carriage was ruined, but there was still a chance to talk their way out of this.

  Gun still ready, but drawn away from the window, he said to Livi, “Two against twenty one. Any advice?”

  “Yeah.” She sat back against her seat. “Don’t let the looters plunder my booty.”

  8

  Fearless Cacophony

  << Pirates have always been known for their bluster and intimidation through speech. I won’t go into detail regarding the Pirate Castes, but what could be more appropriate than engineering voices with true power?

  - Darwin, President of Hollow Island Projections >>

  Livi watched Nash spring from window to window. With the carriage angled as it was, and no curtains on the windows, she could see almost the entire scene without bouncing around like a cute little fox protecting its den.

  “Now are you going to tell me how many bullets that gun carries?” she asked. He always gave away secrets when he was nervous, and now that he wanted to tell her—at least that’s what she understood from their agreement on the hotel porch—it could be a gold mine.

  “Ten bullets, half a dozen Holy Barbs cartridges.” He shoved bullets into the gun to replace the ones he’d shot.

  “And how many do you have in your pocket?”

  “Seven now. I have dozens in the trunk outside, but that doesn’t help us.”

  “Point for you,” she said. Two against twenty-one wasn’t great odds, especially considering the Ahab/Srenners liability, but Nash would pull it off. He easily handled an angry route of Wares and even took her down without any trouble. She wouldn’t waste time with him if he wasn’t at least as capable as herself. The fact that he was handsome and smart enough to banter with her didn’t hurt.

  “My daggers are no good against their blade-proof skin. I say you and I and Srenners abandon the carriage and walk to the gate. You can cover us with your gun.” Let him wonder if she really would abandon the goodman.

  Nash’s scandalized look was satisfying. “They’ll kill Ahab!”

  Acting sorrowful, Livi said, “He was a … goodman while he lasted.”

  His jaw dropped momentarily. “Make jokes, Livi, because that will help. We are absolutely not leaving him. We have to find another way.” He bounced a couple more times. “You don’t know their weakness?”

  “Nope. Fought one in my alley once, and my blades couldn’t scratch her. I had to wear her down with punches and kicks, then crack her head like a walnut on the street. She was bleeding so much I didn’t even have to use my fangs to get a snack afterwards.”

  A man called out from the right side of the carriage before Nash could react to the imagery. The Pirate held dual cutlasses, and wore a long moustache. “Ye have the honor of enterin’ parlay with the formidable Jack Tar, Booty Master of the fearsome Calico Crew, the fiercest Pirates anywhere in the world.”

  Another round of ‘yarrr!’s from his mutiny made Livi cringe. She hated Pirates. They wouldn’t be so bad if it wasn’t for the fact they talked like stupid Pirates.

  “And I’m Nash…” He looked like he wished he had thought to bring a surname when he immigrated. “I’m a Ranger, escorting the Lady Livi to the gate.”

  Livi jabbed Nash in the ribs and said, “Pirates love gold, right? Offer them gold.” She poked again to make sure he was paying attention.

  Nash slapped at her hand, and gave her a forceful look. He was so cute when he was angry. Returning attention to the Marauders, he said, “We have gold. If you name a price, we’ll have our man back and we can all be on our way.”

  No wonder outsiders spent so much time watching. Livi was having a blast in her front row seat of this particular encounter, even though the cushion wasn’t as soft as the carriage they’d traded for this piece of junk. A light cloud of dust hung in the air, stirred up by the broken wheel and she could smell the grittiness in the air.

  The Pirate leader dismounted next to one of his dead crewmates and placed a coin on each eye. In addition to the long, puffy shirt and vest, he wore a three-corner hat. “Alas, under different circumstances I could consider those terms. But ye’ve killed two of me men without even a warnin’ shot over the bow. Too late to settle this with a few pieces of eight. Bad for business if word gets out that the Calico Crew be soft.”

  The mutiny yarred again, and Jack Tar added. “As we Pirates do say—dead men tell no tales.”

  Opinions varied, but for Livi no Caste rivaled Pirates for annoying. “As we Pirates do say,” she mimicked.

  “If it’s a fight you want,” yelled Nash, “we’ll take as many down as we can.” Again with the tough talk. So cute. Especially since she knew he could back it up.

  “What say ye, mates?” said the Booty Master to his people. “Are ye afeared of the Ranger?”

  Shouts of, “Scupper that!” and “Sink me!” answered him.

  Pulling moustache through fingers, Jack Tar growled, “Ye say ye’ve a lady in the carriage? I’d consider tradin’ the wench for yer man, if ye was willin’ to throw in some gold alongside. And if the saucy morsel be to our liking.”

  Saucy morsel? That one wasn’t bad. She might have to take it for herself.

  “Pay you to take her?” answered Nash. “That’s outrageous!”

  “Then it do appear ye’ve nothin’ ter offer.” He motioned to the Lass who held the dagger to Ahab’s throat, and the woman drew back for a strike.

  “Wait!” yelled Nash,

  Did he actually believe the Marauders would destroy their most valuable bargaining piece? Ahab probably did, but his stake was significantly higher than Nash’s. The Lass paused and Livi poked Nash again, twice because of his reaction the first time, and said, “Tell him you need a minute to consider.”

  “Give me a moment to confer with the lady,” he told Jack Tar. Crouching at the window and trying to watch both sides at once even though the Marauders hadn’t circled them, Nash looked at her.

  Going for ‘infuriating’, Livi patted the seat next to her, but Nash didn’t take the bait or the seat. “Aren’t you the slightest bit worried?” he demanded.

  “Terrified.”

  “Yeah, you look about as uncomfortable as Brer Rabbit in a briar patch?”
Another one of his cute little sayings. “You think just because I was dispatched to rescue you from those Wares that someone will come along now to bail us out again?”

  Now that is interesting, Livi thought. Dispatched? She would’ve died in the street if someone hadn’t intervened, but before now she’d always believed in the Corporation’s policy of not intervening. There would be time to dig into that later.

  “Have you ever seen me run, Nash?”

  “What?” She loved his flustered expression when she changed the subject in tense situations. “No, you’ve never run away from a fight.”

  “Not run away,” she corrected. “Run.”

  “That night in San Juan, when I shot you with Holy Barbs.”

  “Okay, that doesn’t count because I was as slow and clumsy as a plebe.”

  “What’s your point?” he asked.

  “If you’ve ever seen me run, you know there isn’t a horse alive that can catch me, even in a dress and heels.”

  He didn’t seem placated. “We’re halfway between Krete and the fence. Can you keep it up for eight kilometers?”

  “No, but the trees are only a hundred feet away. That’s about 30 meters,” she offered, hoping he picked up on the patronizing tone. She probably wouldn’t abandon him like that, not unless the Marauders found a way to kill him and it became every Jennie for herself. If Nash died, she’d have no hope against them and there would be no reason to stick around. There would be no reason for the Marauders to hurt the servants at that point either.

  Jack Tar called out, “Step outside and parlay like a man instead of a mouse.”

  “We’re fine in here, thank you,” answered Nash. A mouse. That was the perfect description of him scurrying back and forth to cover both sides of the coach, even though the Marauders had gone stationary in a surrounding formation.

  With another poke in the ribs, Livi squeaked and scrunched her nose.

  Nash slapped at her hand to get it out of his ribs.