by Jaxon Reed
“Help! Help! Can’t swim.”
One of the marines said, “Recognize him, Denn?”
The old man peered over the side and said, “Not one of ours.”
The marine reached over and stabbed the pirate in the water with his shortsword. They heard him scream until he slipped under.
Stin turned his attention back to the twins. He said, “Quent, I know that fellow, the old man. He was with us on Dream of the Isles. He’s going to recognize me, and he needs to recognize you, too. As Quarl. Otherwise you’re going to end up stabbed or on the end of a rope. Come on, help me get your brother’s clothes off.”
Quent frowned, watching Stin struggle with his dead brother’s cassock.
“What are you doing? This isn’t right.”
“Do as I say or you’re a dead men. Take off your tunic and breeches and put this on. Quick, before they see us.”
Reluctantly, Quarl took his own clothes off and pulled his brother’s cassock over his head.
He said, “There’s blood and holes in it.”
“Don’t worry. Nobody will notice. Now hold still, I need to bop you on the head.”
“What?”
“You’re about to suffer a memory loss. Otherwise, nobody will ever believe you’re Quarl. You may look like him, but once they start talking to you they’ll wise up quick.”
Stin grabbed a floating plank from Wavecrest’s deck out of the water. He said, “Try not to scream.”
He swung it up alongside Quent’s head, making a lout splat! Quent grimaced in pain, but didn’t cry out.
Stin said, “Let’s get your brother back in the water. Face down.”
Together they flipped Quarl’s body over and eased him back into the sea. Stin kicked the corpse, separating their makeshift raft from the body. It floated off in undergarments, face down.
Stin looked back at Quent, still holding his head where the plank hit him. He said, “Who are you?”
“I’m . . . Quarl?”
“No. You don’t know who you are. You don’t remember anything. And you’re not going to remember anything until you come to a port and get far away from anyone on either one of those two ships. You understand?”
Quent nodded, then flinched as the motion of his head brought a fresh wave of pain.
Stin looked back to the launch, now a mere hundred paces away. He said, “Ready? I’ll call them over.”
Quarl made a much smaller nod this time. Stin raised a hand and hollered at the men on the boat. “Over here! Over here!”
Everybody on the little boat looked his way and the marines paddled in their direction. Within minutes the launch pulled up alongside their raft. Old Denn looked out over the side at them, along with the marines.
One of the marines said, “Recognize these, Denn?”
“Aye. That un’s our ship’s healer. This un’s Stin of Coral.”
The marines reached down and grabbed them, helping them up into the boat. Somebody gave them each a blanket and they dried themselves off and bundled up.
Denn said, “How are ye, Quarl?”
Quent looked at him and squinted. He said, “Do I know you?”
Denn and one of the marines discussed his injuries. The marine swore he knew a soldier who had suffered a head injury while fighting and couldn’t remember anything afterwards.
The marine said, “Truth to tell it was a pub brawl, and he got walloped behind the eye right here with a pewter mug. He was never quite the same after that.”
While they talked, another of the marines approached Stin. Their leader looked him up and down and said, “Are you Stin of Coral?”
At that moment the boom from the navy ship swung out over the water again. Stin watched. In the distance he could make out Melton’s peg leg as it jerked at the end of a rope. One of the bodies jerking around was smaller than all the others, the legs shorter. Stin realized it had to be Cuppers. He struggled to keep waves of guilt and horror from showing on his face.
He turned his attention back to the marine and said, “I am he.”
The marine nodded at his two men. They lifted Stin up to his feet, then pulled his arms behind him and began binding him with a length of rope.
Stin said, “What is this?”
The marine said, “I have orders that if you were found, I am to deliver you unharmed to the Royal Dungeon in Coral.”
“Now look, we can discuss—”
The leader pulled out a piece of cheesecloth from a pocket and squeezed Stin’s cheeks. When his mouth opened, the marine stuffed the cheesecloth into it. Then he wrapped another piece of cloth around Stin’s head, holding the cheesecloth in place so Stin couldn’t spit it out.
He said, “I also have orders to gag you until you are safely in the ship’s holding pen. Nobody is to talk with you or have anything to do with you. Apparently, you’ve got a potent magical tongue.”
The other two, now finished tying his hands, chuckled at this statement and one of them made a crude suggestion. Everyone on the boat laughed except Stin and Quent.
They all sat down as the rowers paddled the boat back toward the navy ship. Stin watched helplessly, bound and gagged, as King Keel grew steadily closer.
Chapter 16
Greystone and Trant stood on the deck of King Keel next to the towering Archemon. Below them, out over the water, flotsam and corpses floated. The boom swung out over the side one more time, and the last of the pirates were chopped from their ropes, splashing down to join the dead. In the distance they could see the launch rowing back, evidently carrying a few merchants who had been swept overboard in the fighting.
“I think that went rather well, don’t you, Trant?”
Trant nodded at the wizard. He said, “A sunken pirate ship. Very few losses on our side. I’d say it went well. What is your opinion, Captain?”
Archemon smiled, the corners of his mustache rising with his mouth. He said, “I think it may be a while before the pirates stir up enough courage to attack again.”
The three turned back to the tableau of death and destruction on the water below. The launch paddled steadily toward them, but looked to be several minutes out.
Greystone said, “Pity we couldn’t capture their captain alive. I would dearly love to know more about their secret island.”
“I thought wizards knew all about such things,” Archemon said.
“Oh no, not at all. And we keep secrets even among ourselves. I’m afraid it was my predecessor, the original Greystone, who set Gloomis up with his base of operations. Unfortunately, he was killed before anyone could learn much about the arrangement. The secrets to Corsairs Cove died with him, at least as far as wizards are concerned.”
Archemon’s eyes widened and his mouth dropped open. He said in an incredulous tone, “Why would a wizard help a pirate?”
Trant chuckled and said, “Don’t ask, Captain. I know from long experience, stories such as these usually take at least three or four hours to tell. Trust me.”
Greystone said, “Well, actually it is quite an intriguing tale. It involved a beautiful woman, like so many good stories do. You see, there was a love triangle between Gloomis, the first Greystone, and—”
“Begging the Captain’s pardon, sir,” a young marine said. He looked very nervous, no doubt from not only having to address the captain, but a wizard and a prince as well. Archemon made a gesture to indicate all was well and the young man relaxed visibly.
He said, “Captain Jessup from Seacaller sends his regards, and wishes to return the ‘magic parchment’ to the wizard.”
“Ah, yes,” Greystone said, taking the proferred scroll from the marine. “This was how we knew the proper moment to make our appearance. I have its mate here with me. Whatever is written on one is immediately seen by the other. That’s one secret we wizards do share with one another.”
He tucked the parchment into a fold in his robe.
Trant said, “We need to be getting back. There’s a little matter we have to address ba
ck home.”
Greystone nodded in agreement and said, “Indeed. Captain I’m afraid I’ll have to tickle your ears about Gloomis and my predecessor some other day.”
Archemon smiled and said, “You are welcome aboard my ship any time, Wizard. May the Creator bless you in your quest.”
“And you in yours.”
Greystone turned away from the Captain and the marine, and conjured up a travel globe. It cast a hazy yellow light in all directions, floating just above the deck boards. While everyone nearby stopped to stare at it, he and Trant walked through and disappeared.
-+-
Greystone and Trant walked out into the streets of Greystone Village, the hazy globe fading fast behind them. They appeared before Greystone’s house on one side of the street and the village pub on the other. The metal men stood in their same locations, heads tilted down. Townsfolk still avoided them, although their presence seemed more tolerated now that time had passed and people had grown accustomed to their presence.
More people were in the streets, as well, many sporting the orange-red leather armor of Coral. One of them walked up and saluted Trant and the wizard.
“Captain Tomlin,” Greystone said. “How delightful to see you again. We have been cavorting with different kinds of captains just now. Have they taken you away from Princess Margwen?”
Tomlin flushed. He said, “She’s here, in your manor. I registered my disapproval of her accompanying Lord Trant on this mission, but my opinions were not taken into consideration.”
Trant chuckled and said, “Don’t feel bad, Tomlin. I couldn’t talk her out of it, either. It seems my beloved has little taste for staying at home while I go about trying to take my kingdom back. I’m going to try again to at least have her stay here in the village while we advance on Emerald.”
Greystone said, “We shall have to get your kingdom back so you two can get married and give poor Tomlin a rest. Be ready on the morrow at my signal. I’ve got to hop over to a meeting of the Magic Council next.”
Trant nodded and clasped hands with the wizard. Greystone conjured another transport globe, walked through it and disappeared.
Trant smiled at Tomlin and slapped him on the back. He said, “Captain, I think you’re going to love Emerald. At least I hope you do. When Margwen and I get married and I get the throne back, I don’t foresee us traveling a whole lot.”
-+-
Greystone was the last to walk into the meeting of the Magic Council in Oldstone’s castle. He smiled at everybody and took his place at the table.
“Gentlemen, we are ready to find the Forlorn Dagger once more,” Oldstone said, looking around the table, holding the eye of each wizard for a moment. Mita stood behind his right shoulder; present, but not as an official member of the council.
Oldstone said, “Redstone has a plan.”
All eyes turned toward the short, orange-haired wizard. He smiled in delight, and stood to address everyone. He said, “Right, then. We know the general area in which the dagger was lost.”
With a flourish, he produced a map of the Hidden Forest, which floated in the air beside him.
“It was right about here,” he said, circling an area between Greystone Village and the main road with his finger. “We have the vicinity well guarded, and have seen no sign of Darkstone since the battle. By all accounts he remains cowering in his castle at Emerald, likely scared witless and sick with defeat.”
Redstone smiled at this and waited for some chuckles. The “Troublesome Trio,” Quartzstone, Sandstone, and Silverstone, glared back at him.
Redstone cleared his throat and said, “Yes. Well anyhow, the plan is to maintain the magical wards in the area. I am quite certain they are more than adequate to alert us of Darkstone’s presence, should he show up. Subtlety was never his strong point, you see. He never had the skill to pull off a delicate or complex spell. It was always, ‘Boom! Boom!’ with him. Alas, those who are weaker in talent often try to compensate with showmanship.”
He smiled around the table again. Quartzstone’s scowl increased, measurably.
Redstone continued. “So, we’ll keep the wards up and search for the dagger in complete assurance of no interruption by that pesky Darkstone, who is no doubt still nursing his wounds from the last whuppin’ we gave him!”
Quartzstone said, a sneer thinly veiled in his voice, “How do you propose to secure an object that drains magic? Or have you thought of that?”
Redstone said, “I’m glad you asked, young man!”
Mita noted Quartzstone’s spine stiffening at the mention of his age. He took it as an insult.
Redstone didn’t seem to notice. He said, “Our plan is to surround it with a large magical globe of energy. The magic won’t touch the blade, you see. It will just surround the dagger. No one can get in, and the blade can’t get out.”
He smiled in triumph at Quartzstone. Mita thought if the glare on the younger wizard’s face were a weapon, it would surely kill the jovial Redstone.
Oldstone stood and said, “Very good. When do you propose to begin the hunt?”
“Tomorrow morning.”
“Who would you like to assist you in the matter?”
Redstone chuckled confidently and said, “Ah, Loadstone and me can handle it quite fine. There’s no need to worry about that puny sniveling coward back in Emerald. He hasn’t made a try for the dagger, or we’d have known from my magical wards. No doubt he’s too scared. Quivering in his boots! Probably spent all his power on that little prison Mita broke for us. I don’t think that pitiful excuse of a wizard is going to dare venture out of his palace. We’ll be fine!”
-+-
Thanden flew into the king’s private chambers off the throne room in the Emerald Castle. Endrick harrumphed at the little intruder, while at the same time wondering how the little sprite knew where to find Darkstone all the time.
Thanden circled weakly around both men’s heads before landing awkwardly on the table on his butt, making a tiny thump! He stood up and tottered about, dazed, looking for all the world like a miniature drunk with wings, his putrid green light glowing dimly.
Darkstone said, “Snap out of it, Thanden. What news do you bring?”
Thanden scratched his head, then rested his chin on his fist while tapping his foot.
After a moment of this, Darkstone said, “Well? Did you bring a message or not?”
As if remembering suddenly, Thanden raised his pointy finger and smiled. He fluttered up to Darkstone, pulled out a scrap of parchment, and bowed awkwardly in the air. The motion cost him, though. He quickly spiraled back down to the tabletop out of control, crash landing and rolling head over heels several times.
Endrick sighed, and leaned back in his chair. These meetings with the wizard discussing administration and planning bored him immensely. He mind wandered to half a dozen other things infinitely more enjoyable than discussing weighty matters of the kingdom. Especially since the problems the wizard kept bringing up were mostly Darkstone’s fault. Endrick couldn’t figure out why the wizard seemed so worried about their present lack of manpower. He was a wizard, after all. He could harvest an entire field with one swipe of a hand in the air. Who cares if all the villagers are dead, Darkstone could bring in the crops himself, Endrick thought.
Endrick mulled that idea over a while longer, trying to decide if Darkstone would be offended by the suggestion. Just as he decided he might throw it out at an opportune moment, Darkstone looked up from the small fragment of parchment with fire in his eyes.
“Bad news?” Endrick asked.
“The fools think their wards are sufficient to warn them of my presence.”
“I see. I take this to mean they are finally going after the dagger?”
“Not only are they going after it, they are so little worried I’ll interfere they’re only sending two weak wizards to fetch it. They’re confident that if I am to show up, they will be warned in time. Ha! They don’t know I can be there without setting off the wards. F
ools.”
Endrick paused before responding. He had pushed the wizard a bit far in his insults lately. It truly would not be prudent to push hard now, he thought. But the chance to poke his puppetmaster proved too rich a temptation to pass up.
He said, “Why, it’s as if they don’t even know who you are. After all, you almost defeated them last time.”
If Darkstone noticed the insult, he didn’t show it. Thanden stood back up and made a small trumpeting noise, attracting their attention. He began pantomiming, first throwing himself around the table top, lying in various awkward poses, then hoisting himself up and walking bent over in a straight line, then turning and slowly stomping back in the opposite direction, his arms held out straight before him.
Endrick said, “What’s he saying?”
“It appears Greystone has gathered the pieces of the metal men to have them reassembled. That’s actually not a bad idea. I didn’t consider it when I left behind our destroyed army.”
“Ah, something else you didn’t think of.”
Darkstone’s head jerked up, and Endrick noticed his pupils constricting. He did not miss that last insult.
“Careful, Endrick. If they are doing what I suspect they are, you’re going to need my help to retain the throne. More so than ever.”
Endrick changed his tone, and the expression on his face. He did not want to push too hard. Like it or not, I am still his puppet, he thought.
“And what do you suspect they’re going to do?” he said, much more respectfully.
“I think they’re going to try and get me, or at least occupy my attention. You were right. After nearly losing earlier, there is no way Oldstone would let two lesser wizards go after the dagger alone. No, they are setting me up for a fall. I would not doubt if every one of them were there, along with their battlemaiden.
“Once I am out of the way, they’ll use the metal men to take back this kingdom. Everybody knows the first thing to do in battle is take out the wizard. They’re coming for your throne, Endrick. You need to prepare for invasion.”