by Simon Archer
Both the burly orcs loomed over him, but you had to give the man credit, he wasn’t intimidated. Once we all were on deck, Bill turned to me.
“Ye run a tight ship, Captain. I’m impressed.”
I snorted. “Did ye think it’d be less ship-shape for being orc-run?”
“I know better than to think that,” Bill replied. “More than most ye might find in the Admiralty.”
Pirates did tend to be more accepting of oddities at sea than regular navy or even merchantmen. In general, pirate ships were a sort of violent democracy where the captain could be voted out by a suitable majority of the crew and either put to shore, marooned on an island or at sea, or killed outright.
A lot depended on how the captain treated his men and how well they were paid in plunder, grog, and action. Bill had a new ship and a new crew, and I bet that none of them knew the truth behind his escape from Commodore Arde and The Indomitable.
“Let’s take this to the War Room,” I said as I brushed past Markland to lead the motley crew into the aft castle. “Mary, see that Cerridwen’s comfortable and then make an attempt to call Ligeia.”
“Are ye sure that’s wise, my Captain?” she asked.
“Nay, but do it anyway,” I answered. “Make sure she knows Bill is here under flag o’ truce, an’ she’s not to kill him. Since she an’ Shrike are the ones with a real grievance, they’re entitled to a say in what comes next.”
“I find myself concerned that I’ll not be leaving here with all my parts intact,” Bill commented. “Perhaps ye could afford me a bit of assurance, Captain Skullsplitter?”
“We’re under truce, Bill,” I said, intentionally using the familiar address. “Long as ye comport yerself as a gentleman an’ adhere to the rules o’ parley, you’ll walk out without a scratch. Ye have my word.”
He frowned and scratched his beard. Treachery followed in Bill’s wake like a loyal dog, and he expected a double-cross. I had his witch though, and there was definitely something between the two. He had wanted to do something when Mary used the evil eye on the surprised Cerridwen, but he held his peace. Even now he was looking for a way out and, seeing none, charged full speed ahead to see what would happen.
“Fair enough, Bardak,” he replied.
“Captain Skullsplitter,” Shrike corrected him, earning a glance of surprise from his former commander.
I smirked to myself. Apparently, Bill still expected a modicum of respect from his old first mate and was genuinely shocked that it was lacking. We passed through the door below the helm and went to the navigation room, my War Room. There was no way I’d sully my own cabin with this meeting.
There were enough chairs around the table to accommodate the five individuals I expected, and once the three of us were settled, I fixed Bloody Bill with a glare.
“Before ye have to face yer past, Bill Markland,” I began, “I need ye to tell me true: Do ye still have Ligeia’s comb in yer possession?”
“Well,” he prevaricated, “yes and no.”
“What in the hells does that mean?” Shrike snapped, then froze and looked at me, embarrassed at his sudden outburst.
I waved it off, unsurprised, and waited for Bill to answer.
Receiving no real acknowledgment from me one way or the other, Markland sighed and answered. “It means that I do not have it on my person, nor is it in my establishment or upon my ship.”
“Stop with the games,” I said as I slammed my fist down on the table. Both men jumped at the sudden crash and stared at me. “If ye don’t have it, Cap’n, then, like it or not, you are of no use to us. I've got the means to go an’ search out all yer hiding places, but what neither of us has is time. The Indomitable and The Pale Horse are turning our way, an’ they be carryin’ the might o’ the Empire. Hells, man, I killed a bloody governor. D’ye think they’ll rest until I swing from a gallows rope?”
My eyes narrowed, and I leaned forward to gaze at Bloody Bill. “Do ye really think I won’t forget that I’m a civilized orc for long enough to tear yer grinnin’ head from yer shoulders an’ turn ye into a figurehead for me prow, long as ye last, if ye don’t get straight with me.”
Bill blinked. He had expected a captain, but he hadn’t expected an orc. Another pirate would have played his games, but I was far from being just another pirate, and my patience was worn so thin you could see through it.
“Since ye put it that way,” he sniffed, “I’ll tell ye honest, Captain. The comb is safe. It is stashed in one of my hidey holes, but not one that dear Mister Shrike was there to see.”
I wanted to reach out and tear the smug smile from the man’s face, but I just gritted my teeth and let him continue.
“I’ll make a deal with ye, Captain to Captain. I’ll lead ye to this bit of treasure in return for my life and the return of my witch. Cerridwen is… dear to me.” He looked down at his hands where they rested on the pinned-down map of the archipelago. “I give ye my word.”
I nodded, and Bill turned to Shrike. “For what it’s worth, old friend, I am sorry for what I did, but I didn’t have a way out for anyone aside for me.”
“I ain’t yer friend,” Shrike spat. “Not anymore. Ye set that ship to sailin’ past the horizon when ye left yer crew to rot.”
Bill sighed and looked back at me. “I trust ye intend to carry on with the unpleasant meeting ye have planned between myself and Ligeia?”
I nodded. “You would be correct, Bill Markland.”
“Bloody hells,” he swore. “I don’t know what I did to deserve ye as a tormentor, Captain, but yer a right heartless bastard.”
The War Room door swung open then for Mary and Ligeia, the siren naked and dripping wet as she usually was when she deigned to come aboard.
“Thou art the one without a heart, William,” Ligeia said in a quiet, musical voice. “I did nothing to cause ye to leave me, and yet you did and took my treasure with.”
Bill stared at her silently, his mouth working like he wanted to say something, but the words didn’t come. His eyes, though, were stricken. Had he never expected to see her again, despite having stolen a part of her power?
I looked between the two of them, and it suddenly dawned on me. Bloody Bill Markland hadn’t just taken Ligeia’s comb and fled, hoping to escape her wrath when she discovered the theft. No, he still loved her, and he wanted her to follow him.
“Gods below,” the man whispered. “Ye be more beautiful now than ye were when ye cared for me, all those years past.”
Damn me for a fool. This was a complication we didn’t need.
23
“Stop,” Ligeia said firmly. “I’ll not hear any more of thy honeyed words, thief. I would kill thee but for the hospitality of my Captain and his crew.”
Bloody Bill froze in place at her words, and his expression darkened. He was silent for a long time, but just as I opened my mouth to address him, he said, “So, ye think us ended?”
The siren nodded. “Yon witch is thine, is she not?”
“Aye,” Bill slowly nodded, “but what does that have to do with anything?”
Ligeia scowled. I glanced at Shrike and Mary and then very deliberately folded my arms across my chest and leaned back. I had seen she-orcs take down war chieftains when incensed enough, and it usually all began with a foolish question like that. All I really needed was for Bill to be alive and talking to guide us where we needed to go. He wasn’t required to have all his limbs.
“Everything,” the siren hissed. She wasn’t bothering to hide her shark-like teeth. “Ye said ye loved me, pirate, yet ye stole my comb and disappeared while I sought food for us.”
“Men had found me,” he protested. “I only wished to protect ye, and I had no time to hide it.”
A hint of fear wafted through my nostrils, and I took a deep, satisfied breath as Ligeia leaned over Bill Markland like she was about to take a bite of him. He cowed back, but it was a credit to his willpower, or maybe his love, that he didn’t drop his hands to his weapons.
>
“I do not believe you,” the siren growled and straightened to her full height. “Return that which is mine, and I will spare ye to the mercies of my Captain.”
Bill swallowed hard and nodded. “I mean to, lass,” he whispered. “The deal is struck, the hostage is taken. I’ll return to me ship an’ we sail with the mornin’ tide. I gave my word to take ye all to where I hid yer comb, and I plan to.” He searched me out with his eyes, gazing around Ligeia’s slim, taut form. “That is still the deal, Captain?”
“Aye, Bill Markland,” I replied with a firm nod. “Ye deal straight with us and lead us to the comb, then we all stand against whatever the Admiralty sets to kill us.”
He looked back up at the siren and smiled disarmingly, his hands spread apart with fingers wide. “See, Ligeia dear? We can work together, get yer comb, an’ then join Captain Bardak’s crusade. Ye could visit me…”
She hissed again violently and slashed a hand through the air. “No!”
Bill winced, then she leaned in and whispered something in his ear so softly that even I couldn’t hear it. He blanched and stared at her with wide eyes as she stood.
“May I leave, my Captain?” she asked as she turned to regard me steadily.
“Go, lass, with my thanks,” I replied with a thankful nod. Our eyes met, and she blinked a single nictitating membrane before she turned and sauntered out.
“That went well,” Shrike muttered. “Now, there’s the matter o’ you and me, Bill.”
Markland turned slowly from where he’d watched Ligeia depart and gazed at Shrike for a long moment. “Aye, Mister Shrike, there is.” Something dark flickered in the Captain’s gaze for a moment, then he smiled and spread his hands magnanimously. “What would ye have of me, old friend, or do ye plan to deny me too?”
I exchanged looks with Mary. In my view, things were going quite well. Not only had Ligeia not killed the man I suspected was a former lover outright, but she’d accepted my deal with him. She’d also referred to me as her captain, something that sent a warm tingle through me when it was said.
“I’ll not deny that we were friends once, Bill,” my man replied. “Nor will I deny that I served ye, quite loyally, in fact, as yer first mate.”
Bill sighed in resignation. “So, then, what d’ye want that’ll make things right between us?”
Once more, Mary and I exchanged a meaningful glance. Either Bloody Bill was awfully intent on settling his debts, or he was a damned good liar. In either case, the man seemed quite sincere. I didn’t like it. Not only could I not tell whether or not the pirate was lying, but I also wanted to believe him. There was something about the man, he fairly dripped with a feeling of trustworthiness, even though I knew full well what he was. Perhaps this was something about him, or maybe a gift from his witch. Whatever the case, I had to exert my will to take anything Bloody Bill said with a grain of salt.
“I’m afraid,” Shrike began, looking down at his nimble, long-fingered hands for a long, thoughtful moment, “there ain’t nothin’ that’ll square the betrayal what lies betwixt us, Cap’n Markland. I’ll not ship with ye again, come hell or high water...” He smirked faintly and tapped the side of his prominent nose, “But I will take that double share ye promised me from our last take an’ be done.”
I couldn’t help but chuckle at that which earned me a dark look from Bloody Bill before he scowled at his former mate. “Fine, then. We’ll settle the score when we retrieve Ligeia’s comb. Ye have my word on it.”
By my figuring, Bill’s word wasn’t worth much, despite the aura about him. I expected he’d try to double-cross or trick us when we went to get the siren’s comb. The pirate was definitely afraid of her, so he’d have to have something planned there. He didn’t seem to have any sort of fear for me… but he should. Whatever happened, though, this particular challenge would reflect far more on me than on Bloody Bill. My reputation as a true buccaneer and not a marque-carrying freelancer for the Admiralty was on the line.
Bill and Shrike spat and clasped hands across the table while Mary and I bore witness. When they settled back, I said, “We’ll take good care o’ yer witch, Bill an’ see her safely back to ye when the deed’s done.”
“As we agreed,” he affirmed. “Now, unless ye have more talking to do, I should get to my ship and roust my crew.”
“Aye.” I rose to my feet. “Pleasure doin’ business with ye, Bloody Bill Markland, an’ a pleasure to finally make yer acquaintance.” I offered a hand.
He looked at it for a moment, then clasped with me. His grip was strong for a human, and we shook as equals. After that, I showed him to the gangplank and saw him off, standing at the rail to watch as the notorious pirate sauntered off along the pier. Shrike and Mary joined me in watching him go.
“He means to double-cross us,” Shrike observed.
“I expected as much,” I said with a low growl. “We’ll be ready for whatever he decides to throw at us. Like as not, it won’t be ‘til he’s got his witch back.”
“Agreed, Captain,” Mary added. “Cerridwen is quite dangerous. Her tradition doesn’t acknowledge many of the limits that the Sisterhood tries to ingrain in its students.”
“What does that mean?” I asked as I glanced over at her.
“It means that she walks an even darker path than I do,” my witch replied. “I’ve got fey blood to bolster my hexes and give me the strength to face most any witch. Cerridwen, though, is not just a foreseer, but a deathspeaker and stormsinger as well.”
I’d heard those names, but they really meant nothing to me. Witch, shaman, and sorcerer were all words that described different kinds of practitioners of magic, and there were sub-classes to go with each. The Sisterhood mostly trained the more benevolent kinds of witches like healers and windcallers. Arde’s coven and their attempted hurricane went against most of what I knew their organization stood for.
Or at least, what they claimed they stood for.
“Stormsinger I can guess, knowing about the windcallers,” I mused, “but what do ye mean by deathspeaker?”
Shrike made a warding gesture and spat before Mary said anything. She laughed and shook her head.
“Are you familiar with necromancy, Captain?”
Necromancy. I’d heard the word a few times in my life. It was magic that dealt with spirits and the dead. Tales even said that a powerful practitioner could return corpses to a semblance of life and send them against their enemies. Orcs had stamped out the practice long before I was born after one nameless warchief had enlisted the aid of a necromancer to slay his own people and return them to unlife as an unstoppable, tireless army of the dead.
“Aye.” I nodded. “Ye say Cerridwen is a necromancer?”
“She can speak with the dead,” Mary replied. “I cannot say if they would answer her call for succor or not.”
“Make sure she does not make that call, then.” I shook my head in disgust and wondered suddenly if Bloody Bill Markland’s crew might not be composed of at least a few dead men. “Knowing that now, I’d rather tie her to an anchor and toss her overboard, but we need her to keep our deal with Bill.”
I reached up and rubbed the bridge of my nose. “Shrike, we sail out after The Witch’s Promise. He said with the morning tide, but make sure we’re ready to get underway with a moment’s notice. Hopefully, he doesn’t know that Kargad is out there yet, but he will the moment we’re far enough from port.”
Shrike straightened. “Aye, Cap’n. Do ye have any other orders?”
“Nay.” I shook my head. “Methinks I’ll go and look for some rest before morning. Ye should, too. Just pass along the message and get some winks.”
“Yessir!”
Once he ran off to carry out my orders, I turned to Mary. “‘Tis not the adventure I’d hoped for, but this will make or break our reputation in the archipelago, maybe even the empire.”
“I know, my Captain. We shall be ready for anything.” A sly grin spread across her face. “Shall we go below?”
I knew what that smile meant, and maybe that was what I needed. “Aye, witch, I like how ye think.”
When we reached my cabin, the door opened on something unexpected. Ligeia paced between my bed and my desk, and when Mary and I entered, she stopped and stared at the both of us, her eyes wide.
“Oh!” she exclaimed. “I forgot that you…” With both hands, she made a sort of obscene gesture, an extended finger sliding through a circle made with pointer finger and thumb of the other hand.
I guffawed and shook my head as the siren made to leave, her scaled skin flushing pink. Mary covered her mouth, blushing as she giggled madly.
“Don’t ye go, lass,” I said before Ligeia slipped away. “Ye were here for a reason, and I wish to hear it.”
My witch, her shoulders still shaking occasionally, caught Ligeia’s arm in a firm but gentle grasp. “Come and sit, dear songstress,” she purred, guiding the taller woman to my bed and pulling her down upon it.
The siren didn’t resist, but her shoulders slumped a bit. I didn’t join the pair on the bed. Instead, I dragged a chair over from my desk and sat down heavily in it so I could clearly regard them. Mary moved to kneel behind Ligeia, her small, strong hands stroking and massaging the siren’s shoulders.
“I do not know what to say,” our guest spoke after a few moments of the witch’s attention. She had been visibly tense at Mary’s initial touch but quickly relaxed and leaned into it. “I did fall in love once, with the man William Markland. I found him floating, near death, not far from the cove where I once made my home. Tiny was smaller then, perhaps the size of a rowboat. Both of us had eaten well, and something about him…”
Her voice trailed off for a moment before she found the words to continue. “We brought him to shore, gave him fresh water and food, and he slowly recovered. He told me of the land and life above the waves, while I shared tales of my own life below it. Like ye, Captain, he took no umbrage at my eating of the dead, and he treated me well. He taught me of love, and we lay together many times. On land, in the shallows, wherever the mood took us.” She let out a wistful sigh, her eyes closed.