by Monica Hahn
Tales of Tibercon:
The Princess and the Pirate
By Monica Hahn
Chapter One
In a tavern known as The Roost, with a faded picture of a magnificent fighting cock on a weather-beaten sign creaking in the wind, five sailors were celebrating in a corner near the cozy fire. Sailors were not an uncommon sight at The Roost. It was located in Port Sinbad, after all, in the kingdom of Tibercon, which was rich off of sea trade. These weren’t merchant sailors, though, or navy men, but pirates, as one could tell from their slightly disreputable appearance and swaggering manner. They were paying in gold coins, and Sally wasn’t the type of barmaid to worry about the origin of her pay. She did wonder slightly about the leader of this group, as his bearing suggested former military and his clothing was too fine for the likes of his companions. He was also very handsome, with dark hair and inscrutable brown eyes. He hadn’t spared her more than a courtesy glance as she served them, although the others were much more free with their compliments and hands. She had overheard enough of their conversation, though, to not take offense at his indifference. It appeared the well-dressed pirate was planning matrimony.
“Tell us again what she looks like, Tarik,” Seb said, his tone teasing.
Tarik was too happy to be annoyed. “She’s beautiful,” he said, simply, almost worshipfully.
“I’ll drink to that,” Johan said, downing a mug of ale. “As I’ve seen her.”
“You’ve seen her?” Seb asked. “How, when the rest of us never even knew of her existence until tonight?”
“You’ve seen her, too,” Johan told him. “Remember that pretty thing painting by the cliffs?”
Seb was not as drunk as Johan yet, and as the memory flooded back, he cast a quick look of apprehension at Tarik. “I remember,” he said, shaking his head at Johan.
“She didn’t want to give you a kiss,” Johan said, snorting a bit. “Not that we would have hurt her. But then Tarik came along and spoiled our fun.”
Tarik was now scowling, and the two men sitting on either side of Johan nudged him not very gently. Johan looked at Tarik and smiled weakly. “And the less said of that the better. What’s the plan, Lieutenant? You bringing her on board?”
“I’ll fetch her later tonight,” Tarik said. “The captain has said he’ll marry us and we’ll go with you to Ware, as it’s time I went home. There I plan on becoming respectable again.”
“It’ll be a loss to the sea, it will,” Leonard said, raising his glass. “To becoming respectable again!”
They all raised their glasses. Seb chuckled. “Hard to see how it’s possible when none of you ever was,” he said.
They all laughed at that, but drank anyway.
“I’m just glad you’ll be marrying her right away,” Vance said. “Having an unmarried lady on board is never a good idea.”
“Pure unlucky,” Leonard agreed.
Tarik grinned, the uncharacteristic expression bringing out his boyish charm. “Oh, you’ll be safe enough with her on board,” he said. “As long as she’s safe. Otherwise, superstitions or not, there’ll be hell to pay.”
Seb looked truly shocked. “Nobody’s suicidal enough to mess with any lass of yours, Lieutenant,” he said, and the others all nodded ready agreement.
Tarik nodded at them and took another sip of his whiskey. “What did I say about addressing me as a lieutenant?” he asked.
Johan snorted. “That we shouldn’t do it now that we’re not navy anymore,” he said. “But that’s how we think of you, no matter what the navy says.”
Tarik knew it was useless to argue this point, having done so unsuccessfully many times in the past. These men would do about anything for him, and had risked their lives and careers to follow his orders that infamous day, but getting them to not use his now defunct title was impossible. After their discharges he had expected to never see them again, but instead they had followed him into piracy, in part because no merchant ship would hire them with their history of insubordination. He was blessed to have such loyal friends, and soon he would be married to the woman he loved. After being disgraced he had wondered if he would ever find joy again, but here it was, and it was almost too good to be true.
“To you men!” Tarik said. “For standing by me through the hard times. I’ll be proud to have you all stand by me for my wedding.”
“Hear, hear,” they said, and stomped their feet.
It was at that moment that the door to the tavern burst open and six men in uniforms of the Tibercon Defensive Guard marched through and then came straight toward Tarik’s little group. Tarik’s hand automatically rested on the hilt of his sword as he changed his relaxed posture to that of readiness. He noticed the accent colors on their uniforms and became even more wary. These weren’t regular military guards, but the elite guardians that were responsible for protecting the royal family.
“I’m looking for a pirate—name of Tarik,” the guardian in charge said.
The group put on their best innocent faces, which weren’t entirely convincing. “No pirates here, sir,” Johan said, with a wink. “But you boys look like you could use a drink.”
The guardian’s stern expression didn’t change. Tarik weighed his options, which he was better at when his head wasn’t fogged with whiskey. They could run, or fight, but either option had the potential to get his men injured. Normally he would confidently pit five of them against six any day, but his men weren’t usually this drunk, which was his fault. And this was about him, and only him. Somehow the king knew.
“Tarik!” the guardian said.
Tarik drained his glass and stood up, leisurely. He unwrapped his sword belt and handed it to Seb. “Keep that for me, would you?”
Seb narrowed his eyes. “You sure, Lieutenant?”
Tarik nodded, the warning in his face clear. He turned to face the guardians. “Well, gentlemen?” he said. “Shall we?”
The guardians surrounded him and marched him out.
“I don’t like it,” Seb said, his hands tightening on Tarik’s sword.
*****
As Tarik let the guardians escort him to the castle, he realized he was curious to meet the king of Tibercon. Arati had always seemed frightened of her father, but then again, she was just a sweet, innocent girl who hadn’t had nearly the exposure to truly awful human beings that Tarik had. He was interested in forming his own opinion. His attempt to engage the guardians in any sort of civil conversation was a failure, and they briskly walked in silence all the way from the village, over the bridge, up the hill and across the moat on the drawbridge. It seemed like a very long way. Without a pause, they brought him into the castle through a side door and then through a maze of corridors to the throne room.
Tarik assumed that this was to intimidate him, as there was no other reason for his audience to take place in such grand surroundings. And, although he had been in all sorts of situations before, many more overtly perilous, he was a bit intimidated. His Royal Majesty, King Saras of Tibercon, sat upon one of the three thrones on the dais. The middle one, of course, as it was the largest. He was surrounded by guardians. They parted as Tarik was moved towards the throne with no reduction in speed, and Tarik got his first look at Arati’s father. He was a decent height, or Tarik judged him to be so sitting down, as he did not rise. He appeared in his early forties, and was solid. Tarik was familiar with the physical type. Naturally strong and possessing a steady, if slow, energy that never faltered. He was bearded, and his blonde hair was flecked with silver.
King Saras glared at Tarik. Or maybe that was his usual expression. Tarik had never met him before and so wasn’t a good judge.
Saras certainly appeared to be scowling, however.
“Is this the scoundrel?” Saras asked.
The guardian nodded.
“Leave us,” Saras said, and the room emptied of everyone but Tarik, the king, and the chief guardian, who took a defensive position close to the throne.
Normally Tarik would have exhibited some courtly polish and at least bowed to the king, but he was already branded a scoundrel and so didn’t see a need to be polite, much less respectful. He did wait for Saras to speak first, however. Some etiquette is too deeply ingrained to be ignored.
“I imagine you know why you’re here,” Saras said.
Tarik shook his head.
“I understand the princess may think she is in love with you, but that is her youth and foolishness talking, and she is not to be trifled with. She is my daughter—a princess, and she is not for the likes of you.” He sneered at Tarik with disgust. “A pirate!”
“Actually, Your Royal Majesty, as a point of clarification, although my current occupation is as a pirate, my birth—”
“Your birth is of absolutely no interest to this discussion,” Saras said. “The salient point is that you will not be collecting a payment from me to leave my daughter alone.”
Tarik took a deep breath. “I am not seeking payment,” he said.
“So, you’re not trying to extort riches from me?”
“No, Your Royal Majesty, I am not,” Tarik said.
Saras snorted. “Does that mean that you actually believe that you are in love with the princess?”
“It does.”
Tarik stood straight, all trace of drunkenness gone with the seriousness of the situation. His gaze was true and his responses were crisp and heartfelt. Saras did not appear to be impressed.
“You will leave tonight,” Saras said. “And you will never return to Tibercon, ever.”
“Or what? You’ll have me killed?” Tarik didn’t seem too concerned about this possibility. Several close brushes with death had engendered a fairly cavalier attitude towards the eventual certainty.
“No,” Saras said. “My daughter tends toward the romantic, and killing you would make me a villain in her eyes and you an object of sappy regret. I need her at her best as I have plans that are no concern of yours. I can’t have her all weepy.” He leaned forward and made sure that Tarik was paying attention. “I won’t kill you if you don’t leave,” he said. “I’ll kill her.”
Tarik lost his impassive calm and his face reflected the horror he felt. “Good gods, man, she’s your daughter!” he exclaimed, completely forgetting any of the deference owed a royal.
Saras seemed satisfied with Tarik’s horrified response. “Yes, she is,” he said. “And as such, she is mine to dispose of as I see fit. She can be useful to me, but if she’s not going to be, then she may as well be dead.”
Tarik’s mind was racing through any scenarios that involved him leaving with the princess. He was even more determined that she needed to be saved from this insane father, but he was beginning to doubt that it could be done. Surprise was the only thing they had going for them, and they had obviously lost that. “May I see her?” he asked.
“Absolutely not,” Saras said. “If she knows that I am sending you away then the same weepy scene will ensue in which she will be sulking for months. No, you are going to leave—tonight, and never return. You’ll forget her in another couple of ports, and she will be indignant enough at being left that she will recover quickly from her heartbreak and be cooperative. Don’t try to contact her at all.”
“My ship leaves tomorrow morning,” Tarik said, in one last gesture of defiance.
Saras smiled coldly. “You’re not taking your ship,” he said. “You’re taking whatever is the closest ship that is leaving tonight. Be grateful that I’m not having you beaten as you deserve, but the princess needs to hear that you left of your own free will.”
The last sound Tarik heard from the castle was the music from the ballroom where the love of his life was dancing. It was a lonely sound.
He was escorted to the docks by the same guardians that had brought him to the castle. There didn’t seem to be any point in breaking free. If the king was serious about having Arati killed, then his only choice was to do exactly what Saras wanted. Because he loved her, he would do what he needed to do to ensure that she would stay alive.
He was placed on the first ship that was casting off, a merchant vessel whose captain was slipped a bag that jingled to accept Tarik. He thought about jumping overboard and swimming to shore, but when he turned from the railing to see if he was unobserved, he found that there was a crowd gathered on the deck behind him. He recognized one of the men, someone he had served with two years previously. “Baldwin?” he said, hopefully.
“Sorry, laddie,” Baldwin said, as two of the other men seized his arms. “You landed in a real mess this time, and we’re to keep you locked up until the next port.”
At that point there didn’t seem any real reason to go down without a fight, and so Tarik kicked one of the men in front of him, tore free of his captors and landed in a few good knocks before he was overpowered by sheer numbers and beaten to the ground. As unconsciousness stole over him, he smiled a little in relief. He preferred the bliss of being numb.
Chapter Two
Princess Arati looked at her room with a tiny amount of nostalgia. She didn’t have the best memories of her childhood, but it was the only home she’d ever known. It gave her a moment’s pause to be leaving the familiar for the unknown, and to be trusting her future to a man that she hadn’t known that long. But she loved him and believed that he was a good man, even if he was a pirate. And she felt treasured by him, which was a new and welcome sensation. It did seem odd to be leaving empty-handed, but she had already smuggled a small bag of belongings to Tarik that should be stowed away in his bunk.
She was primed for an adventure, and it was to begin now. As Tarik liked to say, “without action, all is lost.” Arati took a deep breath as she straddled the windowsill, before scampering down the ivy and creeping through the castle mews to the courtyard. She had done this so many times she knew the timing of the guards’ shifts perfectly, and she made it across the moat without incident. Tarik had told her to meet him at the bridge going into the village, and she was surprised that he wasn’t there when she arrived. She cast a look up at the bright, full moon and frowned. Perhaps he had gotten caught up in preparations. She waited another half hour or so as it grew steadily colder and darker. Then she ventured into the village.
It was dark and cold there, too. The streets were deserted. A few lanterns hung outside of any establishments that were still open, mainly the taverns where noisy merriment spilled out of the doorways. Arati clung to the shadows, not wanting to be noticed. She slipped through the village without incident and made her way down to the docks. Tarik’s ship was full of activity, and she could see the dockworkers steadily loading cargo in preparation of their early morning departure in a few hours. Sailors milled about on the deck. She got as close as she dared to the ship and chose the friendly face of a youth leaning wistfully against the rail.
“Boy,” she said. Then, since he hadn’t seemed to hear her, louder. “Boy!”
He looked down and looked surprised, then curious. “You talking to me, lass?”
“Yes. I was wondering if you would be so kind as to assist me. I’m looking for one of the men here. Tarik?”
His face clouded at the mention of Tarik’s name and he shook his head. “He’s not here.”
“What do you mean? I’m sure this is his ship.”
“Was his ship. He left earlier tonight on the Voyager. Our captain was real put out about it, too, since Tarik is a damn fine sailor, begging your pardon.”
“He left?” she said. The feeling of dread that had begun to take hold at the bridge now spread to her entire body, leaving her weak and near tears.
The young sailor looked concerned. “Is all well with you, lass? Do you need an
escort back into town?”
She shook her head blindly. “No, thank you. I’m perfectly well.” She knew she was lying. Without Tarik she would never be perfectly anything again.
“Who are you talking to?” another sailor asked, joining the young one against the rail. He was older, and the look in his eyes as he surveyed Arati made her shudder a little.
“A lass asking about Tarik,” the young sailor said.
“Maybe she’s the one he was running from,” the older one said, with a laugh. He leered at Arati. “I remember him talking about a lass he wanted to bring along, but he must have got tired of you if he fled to the Voyager to avoid you.”
Arati simply turned and walked away at this, not even caring anymore about her safety as she made her way back to her castle room without conscious thought. Anger was slowly replacing shock as her predominant emotion.
If Tarik had tired of her, it was unnecessarily cruel of him to carry out the farce of asking her to marry him. And he needn’t have chosen a different ship, since she had no desire to tag along where she wasn’t wanted. And who did he think he was, anyway? A common pirate—and her a princess! A single tear escaped her, and then she took a deep breath and let her rage bubble to the surface. As if she would cry for the likes of him! Good riddance to that smooth-talking, double-dealing, heart-breaking swine. She wouldn’t waste the tears. She ripped off the rope charm he had given her from around her neck, roughly enough that there would probably be bruising tomorrow. Although she held it for a moment over the fire, she couldn’t bring herself to destroy it, and settled for tossing it into a drawer. She lay in bed for what remained of the night with only her anger for company and finally fell asleep as the sun began to rise.
*****
She awoke, bleary-eyed and heartsick, to a message that the king had requested her presence. She thought, as she often did when being escorted to the throne room by several royal guardians, that calling it a request was not completely accurate.
The king was not alone. Joining him in the throne room was an unattractive prince that she remembered dancing with at the previous night’s ball. She forced a smile on her wan face and nodded at them both, hoping that this wasn’t going to take long. Her head was throbbing in a very uncomfortable manner.