Reecah sensed rather than saw Cahira turn a thoughtful look her way. She waited, expecting a scathing retort, but one wasn’t forthcoming. She met Cahira’s gaze.
“Aye.” Cahira nodded, a slight smile turning up her thin lips. “But had ye not gone and skewered the baron, I’m thinking yer intervention wouldn’t have been required.”
Reecah spit out a nervous laugh.
“Ye got pluck, I’ll give ya that.”
Reecah gave Cahira a tight-lipped smile and looked back at the passing waves. What an odd word—pluck. Grammy had once said the same thing, long ago; that she had her mother’s pluck. Come to think on it, so had Grimclaw.
“So, what do you think of the prince?” Cahira asked.
“The prince?”
“Aye, he’ll be on that black galleon we passed a while back.”
“Ah. With the king.”
Cahira turned her whole body to face Reecah, leaning a casual elbow on the rail and staring at her with a bewildered look.
Reecah swallowed. “What? That was the king’s ship, wasn’t it?”
“You’re serious?”
Reecah nodded, confused.
“Ye just get into the city yesterday, or what?”
Reecah nodded again.
“Really? Ye mean ya never knew the prince sailed down here weeks ago with an army of dragon slayers? It’s all anyone’s been on about forever. The king ain’t to be dirtying his hands with the plight of the dragons. That’s what ‘is army’s for.”
Revelation washed through Reecah. If that were true, there was a good chance she would see the king soon after all. To answer Cahira’s question, she shrugged. “I’ve been busy.”
Cahira glared at her like she expected a better response than that. “With…?”
Cahira expected an answer she wasn’t about to give. She didn’t dare tell the redhead she had actively fought the king’s men. If the prince was sailing to Thunderhead, the last thing she needed was for him to get wind of her involvement with the baron’s misfortune. Thinking further on it, the king’s men already knew about her. She’d fought them…
Her eyes grew wide. Glaring at Cahira, cold prickles tickled her skin. “You mean the prince was already here?”
“Well, ya. Who else but the dark heir would be crazy enough to attack a colony of dragons? From what I hear, he and ‘is Majesty’s elite guard have put a proper end to the Fishmonger Bay colony. Prince J’kwaad is likely returning to Thunderhead to gather the rest of the royal fleet and pick up his sister and the royal vizier.”
Reecah gripped the railing hard, the only way to keep her rubbery legs from failing her. She stared at Cahira, blinking several times and mouthed the words, “Vullis Opsigter.”
Cahira nodded. “Aye. The steward of Draakhall. Ye know him?”
Reecah nodded, her mind reeling with the implications of the prince’s role in Dragon Home’s destruction. She wondered if she had seen him during the battle outside of the Dragon Temple.
Cahira grabbed her by the elbow. “Are ya okay? Ye ain’t lookin’ good.” She forced Reecah to face the rail. “Ain’t nothing to be ashamed of. Ye’ll get yer sea legs in time. If ya gotta hurl, ye best be doing it over the rail. Us deckhands ain’t to be taking kindly to swabbing vomit.”
Reecah was happy to let Cahira think she suffered from seasickness. Anything to stop her questions.
Leaning over the rail and staring at the churning surf splashing off the side of the ship, she actually experienced a bit of queasiness. Thinking about Cahira’s explanation, she recalled the black galleons anchored in Thunderhead.
“I’ll give ye a hand to me berth if’n yer needing to have a wee lie down.”
Reecah shook her head. “I’ll be fine. Like you said, I need time to get my sea legs.”
“Well, I’ll be leaving ya to it then. I gots me duties to perform. If ya need me, I’ll be in the foresail riggin’ for the next while. The cap’n expects all available hands to be on the lookout across the northern coast of the duchy of Svelte.” Cahira turned to go.
“Wait.” Reecah grabbed her by the forearm.
Cahira regarded Reecah’s hand, her eyes narrowing.
“Sorry.” Reecah let go. “Sorry. I was just wondering…what does the prince look like?”
“J’kwaad? Ye claim to know the viscount but ye don’t know what the prince looks like. You really are a strange one.” Cahira said, studying Reecah. She appeared poised to say something else but didn’t. Instead, she nodded with an approving look on her face. “How does the prince look? Pretty good, actually. Tall. Fit. Dark. Chiselled face and sporting a well-kept goatee.”
Putting her hands on her hips and raising her eyebrows, Cahira warned, “Don’t ye be getting’ yer hopes up, GG. J’kwaad’s station is out of reach to someone from…Where did you say you’re from?”
“I didn’t,” Reecah said absently, searching her memory of all the people she remembered seeing at the Dragon Temple. Other than Grog, Junior and Jaxon, and the two men she had killed, only one man’s face stood out. A sense of doom overcame her. “Does the prince have an angular nose?”
Cahira put a finger to her chin in thought. “Aye. Now that I think on it, he does at that. Even so, he is very handsome in me books. I wouldn’t be throwing his boots out from under me bed if ya get me meaning.” She strode away. Looking over her shoulder, she winked. “He’s certainly magical, if that’s what yer implying.”
Reecah clutched the railing again. The wizard! Prince J’kwaad was the knight in the black armour with gold piping. She remembered their eyes meeting across the courtyard. If she wished to confront the king, she was going to have to do it before the prince’s armada returned to Draakhall. She had a sinking feeling that bumping into the dark heir before she had a chance to explain herself to the high king would not go well for her.
Another bad feeling seeped into her thoughts. If the prince had left Dragon Home, did that mean all the dragons were dead? She tried to convince herself she was being paranoid, but couldn’t help worrying that all dragons included Lurker, Swoop and Silence.
She spied Raver perched on the highest yardarm. Imitating a cardinal’s chirrup, she called him to her—hoping not to draw attention to herself. It took a couple of whistles before she got his attention.
Raver ruffled his wings and dropped from the sky, catching his flight at the last moment to land on one of her leather vambraces—the wind ruffling his feathers. She glanced around, but nobody appeared to notice.
Reecah wasn’t sure she could bear parting with the only living link to her past but she had to know if her dragon friends were okay. ‘Damn it!’ she thought, angry with herself for allowing her emotions to get the better of her. Again. An audience with the king wasn’t going to go well; she could see it now.
Raver tilted his head, his image blurred by tears. If she let him go, she might never see him again, but what choice did she have? She had to believe her precious side-kick had the ability to speak with dragons.
Being careful that nobody looked her way, she leaned in close. “I need you to find Lurker and the others. Let them know I’m travelling to the high king’s castle. Tell them the wizard who attacked us outside the Dragon Temple is High King J’kaar’s son. If the prince finds me, I’ll be in trouble.”
Raver blinked twice, tilting his head to the other side.
Wrapping her free hand around his side, she hugged him to her cheek. “Go now. Find Lurker.”
Raver bobbed his head. “Find Lurker! Find Lurker!”
She threw her arm into the air beyond the railing, casting him to the wind.
He cawed once and winged away south—his black body blending in with the dark relief of the Spine.
“Be safe, my friend,” Reecah whispered to the wind. “Thank you for being my rock while the rest of the world abandoned me. I love you.”
The Serpent’s Slip dove into a trough and cut through the next wave. A plume of water cascaded high over the deck, soaking her fac
e, disguising the tears that rolled freely down her cheeks.
By the time she cleared the spray from her eyes, Raver was gone.
Reecah was content to spend the day clutching the landward rail watching league upon countless league of inhabitable coastline pass by—snow-capped mountains dominated the eastern horizon. She wondered if all the mountains in the world were gathered in this one stretch of land—surely there couldn’t be more elsewhere.
The damp spray sporadically reached her from the bow of the ship, soaking through her cloak and dampening her clothing. She shivered uncontrollably but refused to find a place to warm up—her distant stare hoping to catch a last glimpse of Raver returning with the dragons; an outrageous thought, she knew.
Conscious of keeping the pocket that held the journal dry, she thought about her intended audience with the king. She wasn’t sure how to address the man. Did she curtsy, bow, or take a knee? Did she require clothing more suitable to a king’s company? If so, what type? Being a simple girl from Fishmonger Bay left her sadly lacking worldly knowledge.
Her dealings with Tarrek brought home a reality she hadn’t considered. How would she pay for the clothes? For that matter, how would she pay for anything? If Thunderhead were any indicator, food and lodging wouldn’t be handed to her. A sinking feeling gripped her. She grimaced at her naiveté. The more she thought about it, the more she wanted to throw her hands up in defeat.
How did she expect to save the dragons if she couldn’t look after herself?
Peering around a pile of net covered crates, a wiry sailor with scraggly hair covering the top of a balding head, studied the new passenger with interest. There had been quite a commotion two nights ago when the ship cast off before the morning tide—leaving Thunderhead in an unusual hurry. It was rumoured that Cahira had been the cause of their flight, but watching the newcomer, he was certain he had discovered the real reason.
According to the ship’s night watch, one of the baron’s ships had given chase but Serpent’s Slip shallow draft allowed her to outdistance the pursuit, sailing through the calmer waters of the coastal shallows. When dawn had broken over The Spine, the baron’s ship was nowhere to be seen.
Stranger yet, it wasn’t like Cappy to allow dames on board. Especially when their route took them into the Unknown Sea. There definitely must be something special about this girl.
He didn’t think there was a man aboard who wouldn’t love to have a tumble with her, but that wasn’t justification to allow her presence to endanger their voyage. That’s what ports were for.
A strange coincidence accompanied the girl’s appearance. Rumour had it that on the evening before their hurried departure, the baron of Thunderhead had been attacked by a mad woman. He shook his head in disgust. It was pretty sad a man wasn’t safe in his own bedchamber.
He eyed the finely wrought hilt of the woman’s sword. If not for the constant attention of that redheaded bilge rat, Cahira, he might have approached the lass and discovered what she was about.
There was too much chance surrounding her appearance and the ship’s sudden departure. He ventured there was more to the lass than her shy demeanour let on. Certainly someone to keep an eye on, even if Cappy had forbidden the crew’s interference in her affairs.
Searching the deck and rigging, he located the bilge rat ascending the mizzen mast. It wouldn’t do to have her see him watching her charge. Taking a long look at the freeloader, he rubbed his hands together. Whatever she was up to, he meant to find out. He didn’t doubt for a moment that something shady was afoot. If he was right, then someone else had a stake in the outcome.
It paid to be shrewd. Licking his lips, he grinned. Sooner or later, the woman would tip her hand. When she did, he meant to profit from it. One way or another.
All Hands on Deck
“Pirates off the port bow!”
It took a moment for the words to register. The urgency in the voice from the crow’s nest wasn’t lost on her. She faced the bow and followed the concerned gazes of the sailors.
She could only see waves from where she stood, but the sudden change in the atmosphere aboard Serpent’s Slip was palpable. Before she had a chance to take a closer look, the ship became a flurry of activity.
Sailors emerged from every nook and cranny, scurrying back and forth in a chaotic frenzy—each sailor apparently knowing their role.
Captain Dreyger burst through the aft quarterdeck door and shouted, “All hands on deck!”
Reecah jumped out of the way as two sailors brushed by her going in opposite directions— painfully whacking her back off the rail.
Captain Dreyger disappeared up the starboard flight of stairs to the helm’s deck.
The Serpent’s Slip’s deck pitched beneath Reecah’s feet, the ship veering toward the western horizon. If not for the high wall of the ship’s strake, she would have slipped under the rail and into the sea.
Sailors went about their business, taking the lurching deck in their stride; adjusting their gaits and moving on. Reecah couldn’t imagine how long one had to live aboard an ocean-going vessel to be able to roll with the boat as confidently as they did. She had lied earlier to Cahira about feeling seasick, but her stomach protested now.
A squat man with black stubble shadowing his pudgy face waddled toward her from the same door the captain had exited. A dirty kerchief wrapped around the top of his head kept his greasy locks in check—the material matching the wide apron around his girth—its material white once upon a time.
“Och, lassie. Ain’t no place for a missus on deck when danger’s about.”
Without warning, he grasped Reecah above the elbow and forced her away from the rail.
“Hey! That hurts.” Reecah tried to pull out of his grasp but the man’s grip was incredible.
“Ain’t to be hurting near as much as a pirate’s scimitar in yer belly if ya gets me meaning,” the man said, leading her toward the quarterdeck door.
“What’re you doing? I’m not going in there with you.” Visions of the baron came to mind. She twisted in his grasp but couldn’t break his hold.
“Ye’ll be going wherever Cappy says yer to be going, and that’s all there is to the matter.” The man pushed down on a brass door handle and shouldered the door open, shoving Reecah ahead of him “Watch yer step missy.”
Despite his warning, Reecah tripped over the bulkhead. The man yanked on her arm to keep her from landing on her face.
“Ow! You’re going to break my arm.”
The man thrust her forward, releasing her. He stopped to close the door and indicated a side door with his chin. “In there.”
Reecah glanced at the door. Having no idea where it led, she shook her head and backed away but the man was quicker than he appeared.
He caught her forearm and threw her against the wall beside the door. “I ain’t got time to be messin’ with ye, lassie. Either do as yer told or I’ll get rough with ya.”
She thought about grabbing for her dagger but he ripped the door open and tossed her into a room cluttered with cooking utensils and countertops before she could do so.
Catching herself on a central island, she took note of a small hearth burning within a stone enclosure at the far end of the long cabin—two black cauldrons hanging suspended over the glowing coals, swaying with the ship’s movements.
“Make yourself comfortable. It’ll likely get worse afore it gets better.” He latched the door and turned the lock.
Reecah tensed, expecting him to grab for her, but he squeezed his girth past her to inspect the hearth, mumbling to himself.
Reecah side-stepped toward the door.
Without looking up, he said, “I wouldn’t do that if I were ye. If I needs to chase ya, ye’ll be a sorry lass. Ain’t no time to be foolin’ around.” He looked over his broad shoulder. “Ya get me?”
Reecah stopped. There was no way he would catch her before she made it through the door, unless the lock gave her trouble.
The ship reeled to s
tarboard throwing her against the wall amidst a clattering of pots and pans.
The man steadied the hot cauldrons with dirty cloths draped over his hands until the ship righted itself. Standing straight, a slight smile split his thick lips. “They call me Cookie. Ye can too, if yer so inclined. I apologize if I hurt ye. I just be following Cappy’s orders. I needed to make sure me pots be safe o’er the fire. Wouldn’t do to have a stray coal burn the ship out from beneath us.”
Reecah’s gaze darted from the man to the door.
He raised his eyebrows. “Suit yerself. If’n yer determined to give me trouble, I got no qualms of feedin’ ya to the krakens.”
Reecah swallowed. The man’s thick accent was difficult to comprehend, but she understood enough to realize that he didn’t take well to disobedience. Her fear of Cookie being anything like the baron was misplaced. He appeared harmless enough as long as he remained where he was. She fingered the hilt of her dagger. If he made a move toward her, she’d gut him.
Cookie eyed her movement. He cast her a crooked grin—two upper teeth and a lower, middle tooth missing. Pulling a well-used meat cleaver off a peg in the wall, he brought it crashing down into a dark stained cutting board.
Reecah swallowed, her hand moving away from her sword belt.
“Look, missy. I ain’t wanting to hurt ye. Just doing me job. Cappy asked me to keep ya safe.”
Reecah frowned.
“Aye. I’s not to being understanding either. Seems to me that harbouring a fugitive of the baron is more dangerous than tangling with a pirate ship, but it ain’t me place to be making heady decisions. I’m just the cook.”
Reecah forced a smile, her eyes searching the room. She’d misjudged people before, but Cookie didn’t appear threatening now that they were locked within the brig’s galley.
“To be honest, I can’t see why the cap’n hasn’t tossed ya to the krakens. In me books, you’re a liability that can sink our lady.” He patted the bulkhead beside him. “Quicker ‘n any pirate.”
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