by R. J. Louis
“Nice and easy folks,” Wilhelm says, his cracked lips parting in what could be a smile. Rico, for his part, looks on blankly, his eyes wide pools reflecting the starlight. “Nothing to see here, nothing dangerous at least.”
“H-H-H—”
“Easy Rico,” Wilhelm says. There’s a surprising weight to his voice. He speaks with care, though it’s closer to the care one might use when talking to a wild deer that could jump at any moment. Worse, as I become aware that Rico has some semblance of control over the glowing runes which shield us from the breathless chill of space. If he spooks, we could all end up as soup. Realisation strikes Jonas at the same time, and I see his jaw clench.
“H-H-Home,” Rico stutters, looking out over the side of the ship.
“Gods bother kid,” Jonas erupts with a growl. “Thought you were getting better. You’re dumb and blind now? Home is that way.” He points off the bow of the ship towards the rising Shard of Flare. Strangely enough, the reaction eases the tension, and the crew turn back, normality filtering through them.
“Aye,” Wilhelm says, twisting Rico towards our destination. “Captain’s taking you home. There she is. Flare, pride and soul of the Solarii, home of the dragons, resting place of Pandora, and the shining glass city of Rezir.”
At this, the solemnity among the crew passes, and they give a cheer. Evergreen was a bad job, but Faerie Country’s always bad. It’s time to shake off the cobwebs and get back to what they know best. Pillage, plunder, and profit. And there’s no place better, they know, than Rezir, crown jewel of the Flarian Desert, richest city in the Shards.
The perfect place for pirates.
2 - Dangerous
Wilhelm leaves Rico between us, as we turn our gazes from the unknown to our next destination. The scarred navigator moves swiftly to the Captain’s Cabin. Her door swings open in advance of his knock, and she turns from her position hunched over the table.
“We need to talk about Rico.” Wilhelm says.
“We need to talk about a lot of things, Wilhelm. We need to replace the sailcloth wholesale, if not the entire upper rigging. We need to watch our retreat, we need somewhere to lay low. We scraped our way out of that colossal shit-show by the skin of our teeth, and now, after near burning my ship apart, my Navigator is electing to step down from his duties. Jamala knows Flare well enough, so we’ll cope, but I want you to think long and hard about your decision. Rico’s a wild card, I’ll acknowledge that easily enough.” Thunder waves a hand, silencing Wilhelm’s interruption. “There’s enough on my plate I actually can do something about, without adding that boy.”
“Permission to speak anyway, Captain,” Wilhelm says. “Even if you can’t manage him, the whole crew saw him—”
“The crew have seen all sorts of things.”
“He engaged the shield without blooding the runes!” Wilhelm snaps, before lowering his voice. “It was magic.”
“You’re magic.”
“Not like that. We aren’t magic. We’re divine. I’ve got a sliver of Talos’s almighty spirit just as Mithra gives you your creativity, your connection with the machine—”
“Tread carefully.”
Wilhelm blanches. The Captain does not idly speak of her augmented body, constantly humming with the sound of whirring servos and buzzing gears.
“Of course. But, whatever Rico is... he clearly doesn’t have a divine investment, and even if he did, it shouldn’t grant him that kind of power. How did he do that? What is his connection to this ship? This crew? He knew where you were.”
“What are you implying?”
“Captain. You’ve maintained since the beginning that Rico was the first to join your crew. That he sneaked on board before you’d even left the docking bay, and it was bad luck to turn out a stowaway. That’s not true, is it.”
Thunder pauses. She steps around the small wooden table and slumps back in her heavy chair. “No. Not exactly.” Her sapphire eyes weigh Wilhelm in one long cold stare. “The ship was empty when I acquired her. The Kingfisher had been cleaned out. She was a little battered. I put together a skeleton crew, enough to get me out of Rezir. Short contracts, hard men and women. The kind of Voyagers you get in two hours of bargaining at the cheapest watering hole. That same day we were en route to Spark, and Rico appeared on deck. I initially thought he’d come on for the job, there were a lot of new faces and I was in a rush, though I’d swear up and down I never interviewed him. So, maybe he stowed away. Young kid, looking for adventure, we’ve all been there.” Thunder pauses to glance at Wilhelm, wrinkled and scarred, with an eye-patch over the missing eye he’d given to the Faerie seer on Evergreen. “Though it might have been some time ago. He was mute. I tried putting him off in Spark, but he just kept cropping back up. I half thought I was cursed.”
“That’s the story you told the crew.”
“Aye. And it’s true, but I don’t think Rico stowed away on board that night. I think he died somewhere, and woke up... like he does now, mute, dumb. He learnt to talk. Took months the first time. Now though, each time he comes back, he’s quicker. I don’t know why, or where from. We can ask Rishad, though he’s loathe to talk to me, never forgave me for taking The Kingfisher off his hands...”
“Whatever Rico is, whatever he can do, we have to acknowledge that he’s changing. Growing stronger.”
“It certainly seems that way.”
“He could be dangerous.”
“This is The Kingfisher, Wilhelm. We’re all dangerous. You never had a problem with it before.”
“Captain?”
“You’ll be putting off in Rezir, I assume? Navigating your way to retirement before you lose any more body parts?” Her teeth flash white in the dim room.
“From Rezir to Torrent, and the salt-sea.” Wilhelm’s eye clouds with memory. “It’s been a long while.”
3 - City of Miracles and Fools
Flare, home-shard of the Solarii, is closest to the Dark Star around which the coalition of the Shards orbit, bathed in the odd indigo light. Rezir had been the first city, built of glass and stone, by those first remnants of humanity that found themselves alive on the Citadel after the shattering. The great Ark, where the Table of Fifteen now rule, couldn’t hold them for long, and Flare was a bright, shining beacon.
Over the years, its closeness to the Dark Star turned the Shard into a desert. A brightly lit wasteland of sand and scales. As the land changed, so too did Rezir, growing bigger, brighter, a bauble of Fool’s Gold. Many Solarii, the nobler children of Pandora, moved to the Citadel, forming the Table, and conducting the great political dance, far from home. Others, those more enchanted by strength, power, and what they saw as a divine right to rule, took Rezir and made it what it is today. A gold coin, one side shining and bright, the other dark and stained.
And to that city, The Kingfisher descends.
She is walled on all sides, a pyramid of glass, with rising towers visible through the tinted sheen. Great glass chimneys provide air-flow through the city, but just looking at it you can tell it must smell.
The docks are built onto each side of the pyramid, silver spires rising up from the glass that slow-moving ships can carefully approach and latch onto. The docks are crowded. The whole city is crowded. But there’s always room for one more person and their coin in Rezir.
An awkward hush falls over the crew as the ship comes to a stop. There are people moving between the docks and ships, clambering across thin bridges of glass and silver, and The Kingfisher draws eyes.
Not for the good reasons, either. She’s a burnt, pitted mess of a ship, her hull scarred with charcoal and scraps of singed cloth where sails had once been.
“Mister Mudge.” Thunder steps behind the wheel, where her First Mate and Jamala, Wilhelm’s second, finish the tying off of ropes and supports, bracing the ship.
“Aye, Captain?”
“We’ve a few things to see to in town. Give the crew a few hours to stretch their legs. No making trouble. They’ve ear
ned a break.” There’s a roar of agreement from the men and women around them. “Keep an eye on our newcomer though, wouldn’t want him getting lost in all the hubbub.”
“You worried he’ll do a runner?”
“I’m more concerned about someone with a Watchtower tattoo taking him for a runner than him doing anything himself.”
Mudge pauses, his eyes darkening. “You think Archangel is still around?”
“Preachers like her never quit until they’ve made a believer out of you, and I’m not keen on donating our newest recruit to the End of the World Charity she’s shilling.”
“What if she’s—”
“Telling the truth? And what would you have us do? Hand deliver some poor unfortunate soul to her icy fortress? After your speech yesterday on heroics?”
“You hated that speech.”
Thunder sighs. “I didn’t hate the speech. It pissed me off royally that you made me the bad guy in the eyes of the crew. We got supremely lucky in the Wrathhowl, you’ll be bruised for a full week.” Her teeth flash in a bitter smile. “But there’s a reason I made you First Mate, Zach. I think I needed to hear that speech, just as much as the crew did. I hated the position it put me in, and I’ll have your skin for a coat if you challenge my authority again, but you were right. We could be better. Maybe we should. Maybe not selling Izaak to the Watchtower is the first step in that direction.”
“What’s the next step?”
“I don’t rightly know. But I’m confident the step after that is profit.” Thunder’s smile darkens. “Cause if not, we’re not going to last very long. You may have other ideas, but this crew didn’t sign up to save the world.”
“I’ve been thinking about that. Thinking about a way to get some money.”
“Oh? Care to enlighten me?”
“You’re not going to like it, and we’ll need the ship in better condition. Let’s get these repairs done, and see what we can find out about Rico. I think we’ll all sleep a little better if we know he’s not liable to blow the ship up around us. Surely Travil will take spent Skyhooks in trade.”
“Aye. But how many, and whether it’s enough to get me a meeting with Rishad...” Thunder sighs. “And don’t forget we’ve got a farewell to plan.”
4 - Muddy Water
“Don’t leave, Wilhelm.” Rico’s voice is surprisingly sure. He needs Wilhelm to understand. “Please. You have to stay.”
“Rico, son.” Wilhelm’s single eye is watery, and for the first time since Rico has known him, he looks old. He packs the small satchel of goods at the foot of his bed. “I’m just going to go see what the rates are like. Odds are good, The Kingfisher’ll be going past Torrent, surprising nobody.” His eye twinkles. “And I’ll be forced to catch a ride as it’ll be the cheapest vessel that’ll take me. That’ll give the Captain a few days to pester me into staying, and I’ll still get to speak to the Drowned Scholars when we get to Torrent.”
“The Drowned Scholars?”
“Aye. Experts in my order. They know dark secrets, and I have questions for them.”
“Questions about me.”
“Yes. Questions about you, son. Don’t take this the wrong way, but you are frightfully weird.”
Rico looks down, glum. “So you can just tell the Captain we need to go to Torrent?”
“Oh, no. That looks bad. I can’t give orders, and I can’t request special treatment. Not after Evergreen and Mudge’s little breakdown. Captain needs to show she’s in control of the ship. I go off, I look around at some of the other trading vessels. I’m back tonight for the farewell dinner Kendra’s cooked, and by then Captain’s found a reason for us to make Torrent our next destination that the crew will be happy with. A rumour of sunken treasure, or a trade deal.”
“Politics.”
“Aye son. Sooner or later you figure out it’s all politics.”
“Why can’t she just make the ship go to Torrent. That would show she’s in control.”
Wilhelm shrugs on his pack, his one eye narrowing at Rico. “It’s real easy to muddy the water between control, power, and respect. Aye, the Captain could force the crew into doing her wishes, and many Captains do. But then there’s no loyalty, no respect. If you hold all the power but no respect, you paint a target on your back, and pirates know all sorts of ways to make accidents happen.”
“They’d die before they touched her.” Rico’s eyes grow bright, and there’s a pressure in the room that makes Wilhelm’s ears ring.
“Calm.” Wilhelm reaches out, putting one scarred hand on Rico’s shoulder. “And not just the calm that comes before the storm. Captain can look after herself, kid. You just try and keep this under control until we figure out what’s wrong with you.”
“Maybe there’s nothing wrong with me. I’m different. Is that so bad?”
“You looked ready to murder half the crew, Rico. How do you think your Captain would feel about that?”
Rico pauses, his eyes dimming, and Wilhelm turns to leave.
“Make sure you come back, Wilhelm. We need you.”
“I’ll be back son, don’t you worry. Not many ships out there will want to take on an old man with one eye. It reinforces bad stereotypes, no matter how useful my divinity is.” He chuckles, and then turns, leaving. He glances back once before stepping out onto the deck, and concern and fear war in his gaze.
5 - Blood and Burning Skin
Mudge sets his shoes to the sandstone pavement of Rezir with a weight that he can’t quite fully wrap his mind around. His face is bruised, and he looks as if he would be at home among the more colourful refuse that might wash up on shore of a populated port town. Of course, Rezir is land-locked, their potable water coming in great barrels from Torrent and Evergreen. Shipped every day on countless sky-ships. He’s worked that lane once or twice in between stints in jail. It was low-paying, back-breaking labour, but the captains of those ships didn’t ask too many questions.
Thinking of Evergreen sours the ache in his guts. His bruised ribs probably don’t help much, but Mudge can’t sit still and rest. Every time he closes his eyes, he sees Percy, falling to his knees, a Wolfpack crossbow bolt blooming red in his chest. He sees the riotous ‘pack surrounding him as Dante beats him bloody on the deck of the Wrathhowl. He paid that debt, paid it quick and true. It doesn’t help him in the moment. Every now and then, he turns, and makes sure I’m still walking beside him, as if I might wander off into the unknown. When he sees me, his face draws in even tighter.
He knows Rezir well enough, and while his Captain walks off one way to meet an old friend of theirs, he stumbles on. He needs to move. Work out the energy, it feels like there is a fire in his blood. Jonas, of all people, sent him off, the grizzled Wolf evidently knowing something of vengeance and pain. Mudge wants to drink, but it feels wrong. He needs to fight, but that feels like a mistake. He snorts, cringing at the pain in his nose. What happened to him? He’d met countless men and women across the Shards, he’d lost all of them, along the way. Not all dead, of course, his track record isn’t that bad. But somehow, Percy had connected to something none of the others had. He toys with his thoughts, letting the motion of his pained shuffle spin the gears of his mind into new grooves. He mourns, and he plans. And in a corner of his mind, a dragon’s hoard glitters.
* * *
Captain Erin Thunder walks alone. Her hulking mass is more than enough to deter any would-be assailants, and those more desperate than sensible can see the ice in her eyes and the storm brewing behind her gaze. She follows old, familiar streets, the city of Rezir is always the same, yet constantly changing. Without room to expand outward, new shops replace older ones, fresh paint on old buildings. She turns down alleys, the city a messy grid of buildings, hunched in like towering cliffs around ravine-like streets, until she finds an old shop, not likely to be replaced any time soon.
“Well met, and welcome to Travil’s Tantalizing Treasures,” a squeaky voice says from behind a stack of old books, as Thunder crouches th
rough the door. “We’ve just received a lot of stock, that’s why the place is so—”
“You don’t need to mess me around Travil. I know you can’t throw anything away.”
There’s a crash as something bangs into something else, and drops something, followed by a curse as a heavy object finds a sandal-covered toe.
“Erin?!”
“Trav.”
“Gods be gone, I never thought I’d hear from you again!”
“Find your way out of that mess and you can see me in all my glory,” Erin says with a chuckle, turning to browse the crowded shelves.
There’s a shuffle and a stumble and finally a slight man with messy black hair and wild eyes tumbles into view in the dimly lit shop. He’s at least half the size of Thunder, her augmented body already larger than normal, and his already dangerously bright eyes shine with an almost impossible luminescence as he beholds her.
“Rishad’s going to kill you,” he says, by way of formal greeting.
“Not if he kills you first.” Thunder grins, then holds out a hand. “Good to see you again, Trav.”
Travil looks down at the proffered hand, before batting it to the side and pulling himself into a tight hug. Thunder freezes, awkward, and slowly peels him away.
“Gods Erin,” Travil says, looking up at her. “You got old.”
“So did you, point it out again and you’ll find out whether these old bones are still as strong as they used to be.” She chuckles, relaxing slightly. “I hate to do this—”
“You wouldn’t be here without a good reason, not after you took that sky-ship.”
“Aye. There’s something going on. Something involving my ship, and I think our mutual friend might have something to do with it.”