by Mike Truk
My heart was in my throat. I’d never said these things. Never even put them into words, not even to myself. My own philosophy was crystallizing as I needed it, as I spoke it. “I know that what’s happening between us can lead to great pain down the road. That your causes might tear you from my side. But I’ll risk it, because right now I feel alive, feel glad to be alive, feel… I don’t know, fucking joy at being by your side, knowing that a woman like you feels anything for a guy like me. So I’ll take it. Again and again and again till Blind Fortuna turns away from us and we’re cast in shadow and the wheel plunges us down into misfortune and we die. But I’ll die unrepentant, Yashara. No matter what comes, no matter how it hurts, I’ll never regret this. Never.”
Tears brimmed in her eyes. She wiped them away, gave a curt nod, and climbed out of the bed.
I sat back against the pillows and watched as she dressed. Something about her expression forestalled further words. Had I presumed too much by offering my own childhood experiences as a comparison? Had she suffered much more than I? What did I even know of her background, other than she had once spent time aboard a pirate vessel? Suddenly, I was filled with questions, and wished for nothing more than to call her back down beside me, to ask about her life, how she had begun the Mailed Fists, what she had seen, done, and suffered.
But something held my tongue. She laced up her jerkin, picked up her scimitar where it was propped against her chair, and then leaned forward once more to kiss me.
“I’m glad you’re well, Kellik.” Her whisper revealed nothing of her emotions, and her face could have been a mask. Then she stood, turned, and left the cabin, closing the door quietly behind her.
I sank down amongst the pillows and draped my arm over my eyes. By the Hanged God’s withered asshole. Had I fucked up? Should I have kept my mouth shut? Or was that what she’d needed to hear?
Either way, there was no denying how amazing it was that she’d agreed to help me in Port Lusander. With her, Pogo, and Pony by my side, my chances of success had just risen immeasurably.
And… what of life after I defeated the Family, cleansed Port Gloom, and killed my father? I interlaced my fingers behind my head and stared up into that foggy future. Could it involve something with Yashara?
I thought of a small cottage somewhere, a farm holding perhaps, or no - a shop down by Port Gloom’s Bay of Despair, or maybe an inn -
I snorted. The idea of Yashara doing anything but fighting was ludicrous. And then, of course, there was Tamara and Cerys. Complex feelings surrounded both women, ardor and desire but more than that - something akin to… love? No. Surely not. Companionship?
I twisted about, pressing my cheek into the pillow and stared at the cabin wall. I didn’t know what I felt for them other than a desire to be close, to have them by my side, to protect them, to enjoy their company, to make them laugh, make them smile…
Netherys. Iris. I imagined each woman standing side by side, the svelte dark elf with her cruel smile, the polite necromancer with her black-rimmed eyes and distracted manner. Were they but tools? No. That felt wrong as well. Did I have feelings for them?
I chewed the inside corner of my lips as I tried to sort out how I felt. I wanted the best for Iris - to protect her, help her regain her mental balance, to find a way to… to what? Gift her a mausoleum of her own and make necromancy acceptable to one and all? And she hardly needed my protection; she’d been the primary cause of the Sodden Hold’s destruction.
As for Netherys… how was I to even begin describing my relationship with an infamous dark elf? She was with me because of her visions of destruction and blood. Supported me as long as my path led to ruin. I thought of her back at Skurve’s butcher shop, drawing me into that dark side room, going down on me, relishing how I’d sought to dominate her, had fucked her throat as I’d abandoned myself to lust.
No. She was like fire, perilously beautiful but utterly destructive. She’d be sure to draw out my worst tendencies at any opportunity. I had to keep her close, but be wary of her, lest she turn me toward my worst instincts. But oh, how she was useful. Without her, for example, I’d never have found Pony as he’d sunk in the waves.
I sighed. Tamara, Cerys, Yashara, Iris, and Netherys. Not to mention Maestria, in whose bed I now lolled, who’d fucked me here with hearty abandon only a few days - no, maybe a week at this point - ago, and was now bearing us to Port Lusander. How had I become enmeshed with so many dangerous and beautiful women?
A knock sounded at the door, peremptory as if a mere formality, and then Maestria strode in, doffing a three-cornered hat and studying me with her one good eye.
“Yashara said you’re recovered.” She paused, examining me, and then a wry smile cracked her stern expression. “More than recovered, it would seem. I should have known better than to lend you my bed.”
I sat up, went to stammer some apology, but she waved my words away and turned Yashara’s chair around so that she sat with its back between us.
“Enough, Kellik. After what you went through you’re welcome to a celebratory fuck. Now, I’m in a difficult situation.”
My heart skipped a beat. “Are we still over the trench?”
Maestria pulled out a long-stemmed pipe from her jacket. “The trench? Hardly. We left that a few hours after that monster swam away. It’s been smooth sailing since. No, my quandary is this: I want to thank you for your bravery in driving that beast away, but on the other hand, I’d never have had to risk the Bonegwayne if it weren’t for your presence on her decks. So what do I do?”
I didn’t know what to say, so instead watched as she packed her pipe, leaned over to open a lantern and inhale the flame into the bowl, then puff out several clouds of aromatic smoke.
“The point is moot.” She tapped the pipe’s stem distractedly against the chair back. “The crew is taken with you. Something about your being swallowed by that nightmare and birthed right out of its stomach with a war troll as your midwife has caught their imagination. If I were to throw you overboard I’d face a mutiny. No. You’re safe enough, so I guess I should accede to public opinion and thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” I said, nonplussed. “Any time.”
“Ha. No. Absolutely not. But when you’re feeling up for it, I’d like to present you to the crew. They’re looking forward to giving you a cheer and an excuse for me to break out the rum.”
“Whenever you like,” I said, feeling nothing if not agreeable. “I’m at your disposal.”
She glanced down at my crotch then back up at me, a smirk crossing her face. “It seems I’m ten minutes too late, so another time, perhaps. Now. You must be hungry?”
My thoughts scrambled as I tried to keep up with the twists and turns of the conversation, so I settled for the easiest answer. “Famished.”
Maestria exhaled a puff of smoke. “As I imagined. I’ll order some victuals brought in. Don’t get too comfortable, however. You’ll not be staying in that bed indefinitely.”
“I should be so lucky.”
She grinned around the stem of her pipe. “So you should, but I caution you not to bank on Blind Fortuna’s favor any more than you have. We lost two days making repairs following the attack, but despite the loss of my poop deck and some damage to the stern the Bonegwayne emerged from that battle with surprisingly few structural problems. The rudder required some seeing to, but we’re fine now. I anticipate making the crossing to Green Haven in three or four days’ time, and from there it will be another week to Port Lusander.”
“Excellent,” I said. “Let me know what I can do to pull my weight.”
“I’ll settle for your not thrusting us into any more mortal adventures.” She exhaled an oily plume toward the ceiling, then stood. “I’m glad you’re better, Kellik. It’s a certified miracle that we survived that encounter. By all rights we should be touring the bottom of the trench right now.”
I couldn’t help but grin. “Told you it was a good gamble.”
She raised an eyeb
row. “You’re ever so slightly in my good graces right now. Don’t fuck it up by talking shit, aye?”
“Aye, aye, Cap’n.”
She lowered both brows.
“I mean, yes Captain Maestria. As you command.”
“Hmm. Very well. I’ll have the food sent in. You can rest here one more night and then I’m turning you out. Understood?”
“Understood.”
Maestria considered me a moment longer, her gaze lingering as she looked me up and down, then gave me a final nod and left, leaving the door ajar behind her.
By Blind Fortuna’s bellicose bottom, I should really throw myself at ship killers more often.
I’d just settled back when the door was flung open and Tamara entered, a tray held in both hands, Cerys and Pogo just behind.
“He’s awake!” Tamara’s joy was obvious, her smile unrestrained. “And ready for a feast!”
“You’re fast running out of lives, Kellik,” said Cerys, shaking her head in mock wonder. “You keep pulling off these impossible feats and it’ll catch up with you.”
Pogo sketched a formal bow, one arm flung out to the side, the other crossed over his belly as he bent over as best his twisted back allowed. “Let me thank you from the depths of my withered heart, Master Kellik, for saving Pony’s life. He is dear to me, and though it could be argued quite plausibly in any court of law that he was forced to risk his life due to your reckless behavior, you demonstrated admirable loyalty in turn when it was needed most.” He straightened. “The maxim that I think can be drawn from this exchange of favors is that -”
“Pogo, hush,” said Tamara, setting the tray on my lap and sitting on the edge of the mattress. “You promised not to lecture.”
“I am not lecturing! I am eulogizing! There is a distinct difference, in that a lecture, or to lecture, is to give an oral presentation intended to convey information or teach people about a particular subject, whereas to eulogize is -”
“Pogo?” Cerys had opted to lean across one of the far bed posts, crossing her arms over her chest.
“Yes, yes, very well.” He sniffed in annoyance and adjusted his glasses. “But since when are we all on such familiar terms? My name is “Pogmillion,” and though I don’t insist on ‘master’ as a prefix, it would not go amiss.”
“Very well, Master Pogmillion.” Cerys couldn’t help but smile. “Now, can we get a word in edgewise?”
“Of course.” He hopped up onto Yashara’s chair and there sat, swinging his boots back and forth. “I am not so garrulous as all that. You going to tell him about his lost blade?”
“Lost blade?” I felt a lurch of panic. “The frost sword?”
“Gone,” said Cerys, expression apologetic. “I think it’s somewhere at the bottom of the trench.”
“Ah well.” I tried not to feel glum. I’d begun to really like having that sword at my side. “A small price to pay for defeating that monster.”
“How are you feeling?” asked Tamara, reaching out to touch my brow. “You’re sweaty. Did a fever just break?”
“Something like that,” I said. “I’m doing much better. In fact, good as new, really. I think this king troll business is going to prove really useful. Did you use the White Sun to heal me?”
“Of course. You were near dead when Cerys pulled you over the gunwale. Shattered ankle, compound fracture in your left arm, acid burns all over your body, but worst across your face. Your eyes…”
Cerys shook her head in wonder. “How you survived that I’ll never know.”
“How did you survive that?” asked Pogo. “It all seems rather improbable to me.”
“Netherys played a large part,” I said. “I saw her witch fire almost constantly. But beyond that… I don’t know. I don’t actually remember most of it. Just a blur of the monster’s tentacles, its body. I was leaping, then falling, in the water then inside it…” I shook my head as beads of sweat prickled forth across my brow, and gave a husky laugh. “Just thinking about it makes me afraid.”
“I don’t think anybody saw all of what you did,” said Cerys, “though we’ve tried to piece it together. I fell into the ocean shortly after those snake things attacked, and missed most of what followed climbing back on board.”
“Yashara says you leaped right after her and fought the tentacles,” said Tamara. “That you fell into the ocean, but then were somehow flung into the monster’s mouth. It was going to bite you in half but Pony flung a spar of wood into its maw, causing it to bite its own tongue. She lost track of you after that.”
I shrugged helplessly. “No idea, sorry. That all sounds right? How’s Pony?”
“Pony?” Cerys snorted in amusement. “The war troll? He’s fine. You’d never guess he nearly drowned after being partially digested. He’s been learning how to smoke from the sailors. Seems quite content.”
“Good.” I turned my attention to the tray on my lap. Hard biscuit, chickpeas, beans, and salted fish. My mouth flooded with spit and I immediately placed the biscuit in the beans to begin softening it.
“What did Maestria say?” asked Tamara. “She’s been tight-lipped ever since the trench.”
“We’re good.” I spooned up chickpeas and shoveled them into my mouth. Suddenly, I was utterly ravenous. “Maybe ten days to Port Lusander. Seems I’ve become a local hero and she’s got no choice but to bow to popular opinion.”
Pogo sniffed. “As far as I can tell all you did was get yourself swallowed by a particularly large fish. If I’d known that was all it took to be beatified, I’d have done it myself years ago.”
I grinned at him as I chowed down on the food. “Next time, eh?”
He peered sagely at me over his glasses. “Indubitably.”
“Yashara’s with us,” I said to Tamara, then turned to Pogo. “You and Pony as well, she said.”
“It’s a remarkably terrible business decision.” He leaned forward and took up a corner of biscuit, which he held up to the light as if examining it. “I advised strongly against it, or at least to negotiate unparalleled terms. But she decided there are greater matters at stake, and asked that I not needle you for a daily fee of a hundred gold to be added with compound interest to the two thousand, six hundred and eighty-seven gold you already owe us, nor to draw up a formal contract which I may or may not have with me, and which I should definitely not encourage you to sign while you may still not be possessed of your complete faculties.”
“Very kind of her,” I said, taking a cup of water from Tamara and washing down the salted fish. “Very generous of you.”
“Yes,” sighed Pogo. “I am nothing if not generous. It is, perhaps, my greatest weakness. But here. In case you lack reading material later tonight. I’ll just set the contract beside this lamp. Please pay particular attention to clauses seven, nine, and thirteen.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “Understood.”
“However.” Pogo’s expression turned serious. “I must make my abhorrence for Port Lusander clear. These swamps are home to numerous ancient goblin tribes; it is speculated by the few professional historians of our race that we originated from this region, many millennia ago. ”
“Interesting,” I said, “and… you abhor this, why?”
“For decades now they have been enslaved by local companies who force them through utterly reprehensible means to harvest local resources against their will.” Pogo’s features wrinkled in disgust. “Port Lusander has a terrible reputation amongst my kind. I visit it only because I must.”
“Damn,” I said, sitting upright. “I’m… I don’t really know what to say.”
“There’s nothing to be said.” Pogo wiped his hands on his legs. “I am loyal to Yashara and yourself, Master Kellik. If our adventures bring us here, then that’s all there is to it. I shall not enjoy the experience, however.”
“I wouldn’t expect you to. Thank you, Pogo. And that means our team is now composed of Yashara, Pony, you, Tamara, Iris, and Netherys.” I looked over to where Cerys still le
aned. “Almost a full complement.”
“Mmhmm,” said Cerys, noncommittal.
I shoveled the last of the beans in my mouth, washed them down, then sat back, chewing. There was no doubt as to the nature of my inquiry.
She stood there, svelte, poised, every inch of her a Crimson Noose assassin, looking at once entirely relaxed yet ready at a moment’s notice to fling herself into action.
“And to think,” I said, “that when we first met you were posing as an innocent noble woman.”
“We’ve come a long way since then.”
“We have indeed.”
Tamara turned to look at her. “You never did tell me the specifics of how you two met. I heard about Elias after, but…”
“I was trying to get the gold I owed you,” I said. “Snuck into the Gardens dressed as a priest of St. Endelion. Cerys here was walking with some pompous lord, looking as innocent as she was beautiful. I saw her pouch of gold and thought she’d make an easy mark.”
Pogo snorted. “You are a terrible judge of character.”
“I have my moments,” I said. “But I have to admit I was surprised when she attacked me, then chased me across half of Port Gloom and nearly cut my throat. That I didn’t see coming.”
“And to think,” said Cerys, smile wry, “how everything would have turned out so differently if you’d just chosen someone else’s day to ruin.”
“Port Gloom would be a much calmer cesspit of corruption,” I said. “Elias would still be working you and holding your sister’s captivity over your head. I’d probably be dead, face down in the harbor, Iris would still be at Wargiver’s -”
Cerys raised a hand. “Enough. I get the picture.”
“We’ve effected some real change already,” I said. “We’ve killed some very bad people. Elias. Skurve. Wargiver. That horrible woman who was taking care of that mutilated wizardess. Everyman Jack himself.”