by Simon Archer
“Aye,” the man said before scuttling around me to see to his comrades.
Smirking to myself, I walked on, my hands going through the motions of reloading my pistols one after another. It was a rote gesture, something else that I’d gotten good at through deliberate practice. The whole “Bloody Bill Markland” persona was just that, a way to strike fear into the hearts of enemy and ally alike.
I was bloody ready to start over, too, with my new ship and crew, but then Shrike had to go and get himself rescued by none other than the famous captain of The Hullbreaker, the scourge of Milnest, the Orc Captain Bardak Skullsplitter. It was the last damned thing that I needed. I spat in disgust and proceeded on my way, my thoughts growing darker until I came within sight of my ship.
The Witch’s Promise was a heavy frigate-built galleon. She carried more cannons than the orc’s ship but, likely as not, wouldn’t be able to outrun the damn thing under full sail. It’d be close, though. I’d have to keep the bastard from ramming me, and then there was that damned Dragon Turtle of Ligeia’s. That thing could sink any vessel shy of The Indomitable and could bounce most cannonballs off of his shell.
At least I’d crippled the siren when I took her comb. It was an inadvertent theft, too. I hadn’t realized I’d had the thing when some of my old crewmates found me. Rather than risk their deaths by waiting for Ligeia to return, I’d gathered my things and made sure I was gone before she and Tiny returned from their hunt.
It was a decision I truly, deeply regretted… which is what led us to here. She hated me now, but at least she was still alive and unharmed, and that gods-damned orc actually seemed to care for her.
I snapped at the crewmen guarding the gangplank as I stormed up and in. My men hurried from my path as I rampaged through.
“Get ready, me hearties!” I roared to the deck crew. “We sail on the morning tide!”
“Aye aye, captain!” the shout of the crew answered.
Rather than heading to my cabin, I took one of the doors that led to a curving staircase descending into the bowels of the ship. Muffled shouts came from above, and conversations echoed indistinctly. Lamplight cast flickering shadows as I passed, descending past the two decks worth of cannon to the deck of rowers. In the fore and aft, this deck held the brig and the ship’s stores, although even more goods were held below.
Timbers creaked, and waves slapped the side of the ship. This deck wasn’t below the waterline, it would have been damn useless for rowers if it was. Still, it was a good place to keep things safe… or hidden.
I strode past the empty benches and nodded to the two guards that stood outside the entrance to the brig. “She was howlin’ up a storm up ‘til an hour ago, Captain,” one of them reported.
“Nothing more than that?” I asked.
The other shook his head. “We even looked in on her. Not sure what in the hells she was trying to do, but with the witchbinders on, it likely ain’t much.”
I nodded and waved a hand. “Unlock it.”
“Aye, Cap’n,” he said as he pulled out a ring of keys. The other guard readied his cutlass and stood back as the first unlocked the door and opened it for me.
Rather than give the captive a chance to escape, I stepped quickly into the dark room. It was lit only by the dim lamplight filtering through the barred window of the heavy wooden door behind me. I stopped just inside and leaned back against the door as I waited for my eyes to adjust.
“What brings ye here?” a hoarse, female voice from the darkness asked. Glittering eyes shone as a shape rose, barely visible, across the room.
“I've got a job for ye, Adra Notch-Ear,” I replied, “an’ it could spell your freedom.”
The shape hunched forward with a jingling of chains. “What makes ye think that I won’t try to slip your hold as soon as my bonds are off?”
“I still hold your fetch, shaman. So long as I have him, you are mine.” There was no need for the pirate brogue here.
I still couldn’t see her face, but I knew what to expect. My witch had managed to trick and steal the fetch of an orc shamaness, holding the spirit bound in a small hoodoo doll that I kept wrapped in silver chains in my quarters. I’d learned to ignore its whispers, but I was ready to be rid of the accursed thing.
Adra hissed laughter. “So ye say, pirate king,” she said with as much derision in her hoarse voice as she could manage. “Why do ye keep me in iron and silver if ye have nothing to fear from me?”
There were many reasons I had chosen to keep the shamaness down here and away from most of the crew. She was disconcerting and strange even when she wasn’t talking to the invisible spirits that she claimed surrounded us. It made my skin crawl, and frankly, I didn’t need any hits to the crew’s morale. She’d convince them to eat each other, given half a chance.
“Because I don’t bloody like you having the run of my ship,” I replied. “Because Cerridwen thinks you’re trouble, even without your fetch.” My hands dropped to rest on my pistols as the shadowy, glittering-eyed figure started to inch closer. “And because I’m not so sure that you aren’t just playing all of us for fools.”
The she-orc let out a howling cackle of laughter at that, and I almost shot her. I had one of the flintlocks half-drawn before I caught myself and eased it back. “Enough!” I shouted.
She dropped into a giggling silence after a moment, and her eyes fixated on mine. “What is your task, pirate king?” she hissed.
I shifted my feet a little and hooked a thumb into my belt with a disarming grin. “Are ye familiar with Bardak Skullsplitter?”
Adra grew silent.
“Nothing to say, orc?” I demanded. “I believe ye know the name.”
“The spirits whisper of the orc who went to sea and who loves her with all his heart.” Her voice had gone strange, taking on a subtle timbre as if there were more than one thing speaking through her. “The breaker of hulls is his ship, and all the winds and tides call out his name as they batter the frail ships that float and fly by their whimsy.”
“So ye know of him, one way or another.” I reached up and pushed back a stray lock of hair. It was damp. The warm, stifling air in the brig was making me sweat. “Good. The job is simple. I will arrange for you to get about Bardak’s ship. Play to his graces and share with me his secrets. Earn his trust. Then, when the time comes and I give you my word, sabotage him.”
She hissed again and asked, “You will free Baz?”
“Aye, Adra Notch-Ear, I will. Ye have my word.” I stepped forward boldly and spat in my right palm before offering to her.
Those gleaming eyes studied it for a long moment as the spittle slid over my skin and started to drip to the wooden floor. Finally, Adra made up her mind, spat in her hand as well, and we clasped. Her hand was feverishly hot, and her eyes burned as she gazed up at me.
I must say that she wasn’t terribly unattractive for an orc. Her face had the same strong features as the rest of them, but she had no tusks. Cerridwen told me that the she-orc had ripped them out of her own skull and offered them to the spirits to bind Baz to her. This sacrifice had given her a fetch of prodigious power and influence over the world of spirits. I thought the lack of tusks softened her face and made the woman look more human, despite the forest green of her skin and her shining yellow eyes. Her head was shaved, and her pointed ears stuck out almost perpendicular to her skull, including the notched right ear that gave her that particular epithet. Blankets and ragged cloth wrapped her strongly muscled form, giving her a shapeless, unnatural quality that only added to her disturbing mystique.
She was the only truly worrisome part of my plan to deal with Skullsplitter and his damned ship. The rest was already in place, and I had contingencies planned. Oh, yes, did I have contingencies.
“As a token of good faith,” I said, “I’ll let ye out of those bonds.” With that, I reached back and rapped on the door behind me. “Cecil! Unlock the door and bring me the key to the witchbindings. The deal is struck.”
&n
bsp; There was no back talk, no questions, only a firm, “Aye, sir!” before the crewmen moved to open the door of the brig.
It was good to be the king.
26
In the wee hours of the morning before the tide surged in against the many ships docked at the port of Tarrant, Ligeia slipped over the rail of The Hullbreaker to rendezvous with Sirensong and inform Kargad of everything that had transpired. Mary and I watched her go, then stood by the rail to watch the sun paint the clouds a deep rose.
“Red sky at morning…” she began.
“Sailor, take warning,” I finished. “It ain’t the weather we need to watch for, though.”
The witch smirked at me. “Not with me along, aye. Yon ship, though…” She gestured off in the direction of The Witch’s Promise, which was already bustling with activity.
“Ye learn anything from Bill’s witch?” I asked.
“Nothing,” she replied with a shake of her head, then leaned back against the railing and regarded me, her forehead furrowed in thought.
As serious as the moment was, I couldn’t help but admire how the loose, open blouse she wore exposed just enough of the creamy swells of her breasts to draw the eye with unspoken promises. She was a beautiful woman and quite different than Ligeia, who was Mary’s match in her own right. I had the analogy right: Fire and water.
Perhaps, in my adventures, I’d meet earth and air, too.
“What?” she asked as her right eyebrow lifted. No one, even me, could put much past Mary Night.
“Just my mind going walkabout,” I replied with a slight grin before I rolled my neck, turned, and yelled out across the deck. “Oarsmen to their stations! Cast her off an’ make ready to ride the tide!” Then I turned and pointed to a random crew-orc. “Ye, there! Go an’ roust me first mate from whatever hole he be hidin’ in an’ send him my way.”
“Aye, aye, Cap’n!” the orc shouted back before he rushed off below decks. Apparently, he had some idea where Shrike was, and it wasn’t the first mate’s cabin. Interesting.
“How’s Nagra?” I wondered when I turned back to Mary. The witch had her back to me, her elbows resting on the ship’s rail while she gazed out past the docked vessels at Bill’s warship.
The Witch’s Promise was a ship of the line, a galleon, with two decks of cannons, it looked like, and a deck of oars below that. She carried more rigging than The Hullbreaker and was definitely a new ship.
“Good,” the witch replied absently. “She’s keeping an eye on Cerridwen for now.”
“Is that safe?” I wondered. Nagra might be talented, but she hadn’t had much experience in the world yet. The girl was barely a year past her coming of age, hadn’t taken a mate, and it was only at her father’s urging that we’d taken her aboard the ship at all. Kargad had been right, though. Nagra was a hard worker, and easily a match for a newly recruited able-bodied. I had no regrets, especially now that her witchy inclination had been brought out.
“Safe enough,” came the short reply.
I was silent for a minute, watching my witch thoughtfully. Was she brooding? I’d heard that witches weren’t exactly normal in the head, but Mary hadn’t shown any real sign of distress in the time I’d known her. Admittedly, it hadn’t really been that long, and our relationship had gone far and fast. Once again, I had no regrets.
“Somethin’ botherin’ ye, lass?” I asked finally.
She shook her head, then turned it look at me. Her fingers tapped lightly on the dark wood of the rail. “I have a bad feeling about what’s coming, my Captain. I swear to ye, though, Mary Night will see it through.”
I put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. That was an interesting oath. “What do ye see, Mary?”
She gave me a faint smile. “I’ve learned to trust my intuitions. All witches do, else they don’t stay long in this world.”
“Aye, but what do ye see?”
“I’m no foreseer.”
“Tell me anyway,” I rumbled. At this point, I had to know. My witch was actually worried about something and was trying to hide it. I was certain that it wasn’t my displeasure she was afraid of, so what?
“‘Twas a dream, my Captain. Ships burning in the darkness, while a great, white shape loomed over them all, a ship with a skull at its prow,” she said with a sigh, then reached up and pushed back her thick mane of hair before her mismatched eyes met mine. “Bodies were adrift in the sea, and the waves were red. Storms and thunder, cannons and shouts, and amidst it all, the sound of laughter.”
I worked my jaw before I impulsively pulled the witch into a tight hug. She went stiff with surprise, then relaxed, stretching her arms around me as she pressed her body against mine. Her soft cheek rested on my bare chest.
“Worry dreams,” I suggested. “Even I’ve had ‘em before a raid or battle sometimes. Sometimes even the night before I set foot on shore.” A soft chuckle shook my frame. “Have ye been long at sea, Mary Night?”
“Long enough.” She tensed again, just a little, but remained nestled in my arms. “Why do ye ask?”
“She’s a harsh mistress, my witch,” I replied. “Sometimes she likes to test ye, send ye dreams an’ portents that seem to mean one thing but really mean another.”
“I know this, Captain,” Mary said as she squirmed a little to look up at me.
I smiled faintly. “An’ I wanted to remind ye. I think Cerridwen’s got ye shaken, somehow. Am I right?”
The witch blinked, then blushed as she nodded. “Aye, a little. We were friends once before we went to the Sisterhood and our paths diverged. Once, she protected me from those who…” Her voice trailed off, and she just gazed at me with her mismatched eyes.
So there was a history there, and maybe even a long one. It was hard to know how long a witch had lived based solely on her appearance. They tended to be one of the archetypes, no matter their age: Maiden, Mother, or Crone. Most of the ones I’d ever seen were, in appearance, maidens or crones.
Mary continued quietly. “Ye can probably guess I didn’t have an easy childhood, but Cerridwen watched over me. She was an apprentice to our town witch, and I was just an orphaned fey-born girl. ‘Twas her mistress that tested me for talent and referred me on to the Sisterhood. Once I left to train with them, we fell out of contact until now.”
“Ye seemed excited to have her captive, did ye not?” I wondered.
“Aye, I did.” She nodded. “We rather became rivals when I came into my own as a witch. I was, quite simply, more talented than she was, at least in the areas that made me useful as a ship’s witch, but she’d mastered foresight. I suppose she saw something that turned her against me, and I suppose I cannot truly blame her for that.”
“Are ye happy here?” I asked.
Mary let out a soft giggle and nestled against me. “What do ye think, my Captain?”
We were interrupted at that moment by a soft cough from behind me and turned to see Mister Shrike standing a respectful distance away.
“Not to interrupt,” he said, “but ye wanted to see me, Cap’n?”
Mary and I separated, and I walked over to the man. “I need ye to tell me more o’ Bloody Bill Markland. We’re about to sail an’ follow in the bastard’s wake to try to find Ligeia’s comb, an’ then see what treasure we can wrest away after that.” A faint grin spread over my features as I said that. “So the more I know, the more likely we’ll do all that with our hides intact.”
Shrike smirked and glanced from me to Mary and back. She’d returned to brooding at the rail as the day grew faintly lighter. It wasn’t long now until we’d be casting off and following after The Witch’s Promise. Kargad would be ready, as would the siren and her Dragon Turtle. Anything that went wrong wouldn’t be from lack of preparation on our part.
“He’s a treacherous son of a bitch, Cap’n,” Shrike asserted. “Deadliest man with pistol an’ cutlass as I’ve ever seen. Ye saw his draw before the Touch o’ Gold, aye?”
“How could I have missed it? Let me guess,
” I opined. “He likes t’ get the drop on his foes, an’ his fightin’ skills reflect it?”
“Aye,” Shrike said with a nod as he glanced off towards the other pirate’s ship with a scowl. “There are few things he cares about aside from gold, just his witch an’ his power, far as I ken.”
“Do ye expect he’ll give ye trouble over yer share?”
“Nay, Cap’n. He’ll keep the deal we made, up until the moment his part’s fulfilled.” Shrike paced slowly back and forth as I stood still on the aft castle by the helm.
“Then we’ll have to be ready for him,” I stated as I folded my arms across my chest. “Thank ye for these insights, Mister Shrike. Now, I see The Witch’s Promise startin’ to ease her way from the pier, so we need to finish castin’ off and follow. Get the crew movin’ an’ I’ll be on the wheel.”
“Aye, Cap’n!” Shrike saluted me and darted off to grab the watch officer and finish making the ship ready to sail. Truth be told, it was almost there already after my earlier orders. We’d been standing ready, waiting for Bill to make the first move, and now he had.
With sails furled and oars stroking, the massive galleon glided ponderously away from the pier and out into the waters. I bellowed the command to cast off, and The Hullbreaker slowly started to ease away from the dock, pushed by the poles of my burly crew.
Once we had drifted far enough to make room for the oars, I roared out, “Back water!”
Oars shot out and dug in as my rowers put their backs into it. I guided my ship backward with an eye to the rear and a hand on the wheel until we were through the packed ships crowding the port. Then I started us turning as I shouted, “All ahead!”
The rowers lifted their oars and changed direction, digging the paddles into the dark water and letting out a “Heave ho!” as the drummer started beating a rhythm. This time, it was slow, almost lackadaisical, and certainly not what any of us were really used to, but we didn’t actually want to overtake and pass The Witch’s Promise.