Creation Mage 7

by King, Dante

  I padded across the floor, covered in a plethora of rugs and carpets, and made my way to the enormous floor to ceiling window that was covered with a thick velvet curtain.

  Not fearing that anything hostile could get to me here, at the heart of the Pirate Queen’s lair, I pulled back the curtains and let the broad light of day flood into the room.

  For a moment, I recoiled and blinked in the bright sunshine, feeling like one of Dracula’s close relations. When my pupils had grown accustomed to the tropical glare of the gorgeous Spectral Realm morning, I saw what was making the unabating soft tapping noise.

  It was a homing phoenix. One of the origami-style, magically enchanted parchment birds that mages could use to communicate to one another. It was the Avalonian equivalent of the self-destructing tape recorders that the Impossible Mission Force agents used in the Mission Impossible movies.

  “Who’s sending me mail?” I asked myself. I opened the window, and the papery bird flapped its way into the room and landed on the gilt dressing table sitting in one corner.

  I felt a strange, swirling sense of foreboding. Was this a communication telling me that one of the other ships had run into difficulties? Was one of the fraternity brothers going to tell me that some sort of trouble was afoot?

  “Shut the fuck up, imagination,” I growled to myself as I picked up my cloak and slung it around my bare shoulders, “it’s too early for your shit.”

  With a thought, I turned the cloak into a simple pair of black combat-style pants, plain linen shirt, and light black jacket.

  I stood in front of the homing phoenix, but I wasn’t quite sure where to start in actually retrieving the message. I could glimpse pen strokes within the tight furl of its main body, but I couldn’t find a fold or anything to grab to get it open.

  “Uh, a little help?” I ventured.

  The parchment bird had no facial expression, only a rudimentary tilt of its head, but it still managed to give me a pretty condescending look all the same. It was almost as if it was saying, “And you call yourself a mage?”

  “I’m still learning here,” I said defensively.

  The phoenix’s simple beak opened and then folded back, revealing a split along its bottom jaw.

  “Thanks,” I muttered and dug my fingers into the slit.

  The homing phoenix went limp, its wings spreading out and its tail uncurling. In no time at all, where once there had been an intricate origami bird, there was now only a slightly curling sheet of parchment lying on the dressing table.

  The script that flowed across the missive was so neat and elegant that it looked like it had come straight out of the props store of some Jane Austen period drama. If it hadn’t been for the series of red ring marks that hinted very strongly of red wine, not to mention the bubbled corner where something highly corrosive had been spilt, I might not have been able to guess who’d sent it.

  Mr. Mauler,

  I hope this missive finds you well. In fact, I hope this missive finds you at all. I am dictating this message to Igor, as I find myself inadvertently and temporarily—I hope—to have lost the use of my arms. Nothing to worry about, I assure you, merely the side-effect of too much wizard cabbage, which slipped my mind. However, Igor is also enchanting the homing phoenix, so if it does not reach you, it will be his guts that I will have for garters.

  I am writing in the hope that you, your four female companions, and the illustrious Captain Chillgrave might have found yourselves in the company of some pirates. One specific pirate, to be precise.

  If this is so, and she has not slain you or chased you away already, I would urge you to gain her favor. The time is coming when all good people—even if they might not appear so ‘good’ on paper—need to come to the aid of the collective whole. I would implore you to ensure that this famed female, that you may or may not meet, be swayed into being able to be counted on for the final battle with the Arcane Council. The pirates of the Spectral Realm are nothing if not scrappy fighters, and fierce.

  As far as I am aware, everyone else is doing their part. Igor and I are running our ships together, as it turns out that my dear cousin has all the nautical navigation skills of a mountain goat with cataracts. As far as I know, the other ladies are perfectly safe, with one exception. Currently, we have no idea where Mallory Entwistle is. I have been in correspondence to those leading the other ships, and no one knows where she’s toddled off to.

  Still, I’m sure she will turn up. She is highly capable, as you know, and would stick in the craw of anyone foolish enough to try and do her harm.

  I reiterate, Mr. Mauler, we need the pirates who sail and smuggle under the command of the woman who has been such a thorn in the side of the Arcane Council, even in death.

  Wishing you well, and hope you’re enjoying this splendidly clement weather, mate.

  R. Chaosbane.

  I read through the letter once more. I would have given it another once over, but the corners of the parchment began to smolder, and I just had time to throw the homing phoenix out onto the balcony before it burst into blue flames and withered away into ash.

  So, the Headmaster wanted me to do exactly what I was currently doing: strengthening ties with the head honcho of the Spectral Realm pirates. Although the way that he casually mentioned that Mallory Entwistle had upped and disappeared was more troubling.

  Still, I’m sure she’ll turn up…

  It was the sort of way that you might mention your hope that the remote for the television will resurface. Still, that was Reginald Chaosbane for you. I doubted that anything short of the actual end of the world would raise his heart rate above its resting rhythm.

  The rest of the message sounded hopeful, though, as far as it went. Everyone was still doing what they could for the cause, seeing if they could sniff out the location of the Twin Spirit’s Stronghold. I figured that all I could do at my end was continue down the path that Alura, Janet, Barry, and I had set out on.

  With this decision made, I pulled on my boots, opened the door, and strode out into the hall. There was a guard stationed outside my door, and he led me down to where Barry and our host, Isobel were already sitting and chatting.

  Once more, I was struck by how different the interior and the vibe of Castle Goldskull was to any expectation I might have had regarding pirate queens and their taste in decorating.

  Isobel Galeflint and Barry were sitting outside on a deck that looked to have been expertly crafted from repurposed ship timbers. The al fresco setting was straight out of a catalogue for vacations to the Cinque Terre. The deck merged into a lawn, bordered on either side by twelve-foot hedges, which ran down a slight slope to the edge of the floating island, before it dropped away into the azure seas below.

  The underside of the leaves of the towering hedges, which provided extra privacy and security to the outdoor space, were bright gold. They glimmered and glittered in the soft rays of the morning sun, mirroring the stark golden exterior of the massive house behind us. It was a truly remarkable exterior space.

  Despite the relaxed and luxurious surroundings, I noticed numerous guards stationed around the verdant walls of the hedges. They were keeping wary eyes on Barry as he chatted with Isobel. As the guards outside the separate bedrooms proclaimed, it was clear that Isobel did not trust us just yet.

  “Justin!” the Pirate Queen said in a lazily regal voice. “Come and join us. Don’t let the girls and boys around the garden put you off. They’ve already eaten and won’t bite you, unless I tell them to. I’m yet to see your two female friends, but I’m sure they’ll be along shortly.”

  I walked slowly over to the table. Far below us, I could hear the gentle hiss and murmur of the surf breaking. I had to admit, tactical advantages aside, Isobel Galeflint most definitely had one of the best real estate spots in town.

  I sat between the Pirate Queen and the poltergeist sky-pirate. I turned and looked at Barry as I reached for the steaming coffee pot and the “Good morning” that I had been about to send
his way died in my throat.

  Barry looked like a new man. Or, well, a new ghost, I supposed. Or poltergeist. Or whatever the heck the guy was in this realm.

  He no longer looked weak and sickly. On the contrary, he looked like he was about to explode with zestful vivacity. Instead of the greenish glow that had surrounded him and emanated out from him when he had been a poltergeist in Avalonia, Barry now transmitted a soft golden radiance. It was only subtle, and you only really saw it out of the corner of your eye, or when you weren’t looking directly at him. However, it was there, and it made me hopeful that my old pal was back to firing on all cylinders.

  Judging by the way that he was grinning in a slightly maniacal fashion, I thought that he was and then some.

  “Barry,” I said, “you don’t look like as much of a piece of shit as you did yesterday. I trust that the whole Death Font visit thing went well?”

  Barry’s smile widened to the point where I thought that if he didn’t rein it in soon, the top of his head was likely to fall off.

  “Oh, aye, sir,” he said, running his thumb and forefinger along his terrible mustache and laughing delightedly at me. “Oh, aye, it went marvelously, sir, marvelously! Well, grab me by the main mast and twirl me about, but I’ve not felt this full of piss and vinegar for many moons, sir!”

  “Good to hear it, Barry,” I said, patting the pirate on the shoulder and feeling the firmness and strength in him in the way that he didn’t even budge. “Good to hear.”

  “Yes,” Isobel said, toying with a piece of fruit on her plate, “Captain Chillgrave certainly is looking like a million pieces of eight, is he not? He’s got all the old vitality that the old tales of him tell of, I believe. He’s looking fitter and brighter of eye than he was last night at any rate. Not that such a thing would have been hard. I’ve seen zombies that looked livelier than he did last night. Now look at him—he’s practically crackling and sparking with vigor.”

  Barry got up from the table, swooped off his hat, and bowed low before the Pirate Queen. “Aye, and I will not hesitate in saying that I feel myself sorely in your debt, Admiral Galeflint.”

  My gaze flicked over to Isobel, and I caught the cunning gleam in her own eyes. Obviously, having the esteemed and famous Captain Barry Chillgrave owe her one was something that she would not overlook.

  I didn’t want to piss on anyone’s bonfire, but I also knew that it was always best to have all the cards laid out on the table, so I spoke up.

  “Yeah, it’s a great thing that Isobel did, Barry, letting you access her Death Font, but there’s the deal you struck with Chopsticks Nutlee that you need to remember. Obviously, you’re going to have to let her down on the whole killing the Pirate Queen and stealing all her treasure plan.”

  Isobel snorted and gave me a half grin, which told me she would have loved to see Barry and Captain Nutlee try and kill her.

  “Ye know what I’m going to say to that great succulent sea cow when I next see her?” Barry said, replacing his hat and pouring himself a steaming cup of coffee.

  “Avast there, matey, and walk your fat ass off the plank?” I said.

  Barry looked taken aback. “I was going to say, ‘Ready, steady, go fuck yourself!’ but your way has a more piratical sound to it, don’t it?”

  The door to Castle Goldskull opened, and Alura and Janet came out into the open air. They were looking smoking hot as usual, though there was a wariness to the way they approached the table and sat down. They reached for cups of coffee and food, but only nodded so as not to interrupt the conversation they had walked in on.

  Isobel raised her hand and flapped it around her head as if she were shooing away a bothersome fly.

  “Bah, fuck that sluggard Chopsticks Nutlee. Pirates wouldn’t be pirates if they didn’t betray one another,” she continued, somehow managing to swagger while sitting. She turned her full attention on me, those sea gray eyes of hers piercing me with their intensity. “Justin, as surprised as I might have seemed last night when you confided in me, I have to admit that I wasn’t really that surprised.”

  Janet paused in the act of plastering a bagel with cream cheese, and Alura cast me a surreptitious look from under her crystalline eyelids. The air was suddenly thick with tension.

  Barry cleared his throat and looked from Isobel to me and then around at the guards that lined the hedges.

  “Relax, all of you, relax,” Isobel said, smiling wickedly around at us all. “Admittedly, I think that you’d be hanging by your entrails from one of my balconies right now, had it not been for the fact that Justin here came clean about your plans last night, but luckily for you, he did.”

  Janet resumed cream cheesing her bagel, and Alura added cream and sugar to her cup of coffee.

  “Why do you think I let you replenish yourself at the Death Font, Chillgrave? Out of the goodness of my heart?” the Pirate Queen said casually. “I’m fresh out of goodness and my heart hasn’t pulled its weight in years.”

  “You looked a little taken aback,” I said. “When I told you about Nutlee’s proposition to Barry.”

  “That was more because you told me the truth,” Isobel said. “The truth is a very rare beast in the Spectral Realms. So rare that it often completely throws and obfuscates the minds of those who hear it. It was the novelty of you coming clean with me that took me by surprise, not the actual news itself.”

  “You already knew about the deal with Nutlee?” I asked.

  “Correct,” said Isobel. “And how could I not? Nutlee already sent a messenger to me, divulging your plan to kill me and steal my loot and Death Energy, before either of your ships had so much as bumped their keels against the Cupido Island wharves.”

  I had thought that Barry might fly into a rage at this, but it appeared that the poltergeist captain understood the measure of his fellow pirate captain all along. He chuckled to himself and shook his head.

  “Aye, I’ve met the likes of Chopsticks Nutlee before,” he said. “You can practically smell the stink o’ betrayal on her like a cloying perfume. It’s predictable pirates like her that give the whole profession a bad name. No originality, ye know.”

  After taking a dainty sip of her coffee, Alura put down her cup and addressed Isobel with as much dignity and politeness as I imagined anyone had ever shown her since she had been killed and sent to the Spectral Realm.

  “Your Majesty,” she said, “now that you have at least made up your mind not to have us killed just yet, I was wondering if I might ask you another question?”

  “And what’s that, diamond girl?” Isobel said.

  “Have you given any more thought to aiding us in the mission that we spoke of last night? Will you side with us against the Arcane Council?” Alura asked.

  Isobel Galeflint studied Alura’s pretty face carefully. She tapped a finger on the pristine white tablecloth and traced the outline of the knife that lay on it.

  “It seems to me,” she said thoughtfully, “that I already have helped you. I helped your captain here get some lead back in his pencil, ain’t that so, Chillgrave?”

  Barry looked at Alura and Janet, and then nodded.

  “That be so, Admiral Galeflint,” he said.

  “Right. And you all know that hackneyed old saying, don’t you? One good turn deserves another. So, just so as we’re on an even keel in this fancy little friendship that we seem to have struck up, it’d rather nice if you were to give me some help in return.”

  “And then, once we’re even, you’ll join with us and our cause?” Janet asked, wiping bagel crumbs from her mouth with the back of her hand.

  “I’ll have a fucking good think about it, matey, how about that?” Isobel said noncommittedly.

  “And you can tell us where the Stronghold might be.”

  “Mayhaps,” Isobel said with a note of finality.

  It didn’t seem as if we had any other option, as far as I could see.

  “What is it you need our help with?” I asked.

  Isobel le
aned back in her chair and folded her hands in her lap.

  “It’s pretty simple, really,” she said.

  “Why don’t you just do it yourself, then?” Janet interjected. “Or get some of your goons to do it?”

  Isobel smiled a shark’s smile at Janet. “I like you. You have sand. Grit. A spikiness that must be your father shining through you, if half the stories I hear about that man are true. You remind me of me.”

  “I’m not sure if that’s a compliment or an insult,” Janet said, taking another bite of bagel.

  “A bit of both,” Isobel said. “And the reason that I’m not going to do this myself or use any of my crews to do it is a simple one: you four owe me now. So why would I not use that favor? If you die, then I have lost nothing.”

  “Ah, so it’s one of those kinds of favors, is it?” Barry said.

  “That’s right, Chillgrave,” Isobel replied evenly. “It’s one of those favors where you can use the newfound energy and vim that my Death Font has given you to square the debt you owe to me. What did you think I bloody well let you re-energize last night for? So that you could enjoy an extended vacation sailing about the Spectral Realm like some Manafell playboy? Not on your afterlife.”

  “What is it you would have us do then, Admiral Galeflint?” Barry asked.

  “There are a couple of highly experienced, highly fucking troublesome raiding ships that have been playing havoc with my smuggling operation, located near one of the isles not too far from here. I have already lost three ships of souls to these bastards and don’t really want to risk any more of those who are loyal to me—not when I have you, your ship, and your crew at my disposal, Chillgrave.”

  “That’s a very sound and cold-blooded tactical move, Your Majesty,” Alura said.

  “I know,” Isobel said sweetly.

  “You want us to take care of these two raiding ships?” I asked.

  “That’s right,” Isobel said. “Specifically, I want you four and all your shipmates waiting back at the port to take your schooner and act as bait.”