by A. C. Cobble
“The Veil knows,” answered Ben.
Amelie tilted her wine up and finished it. “You’re right. That’s one more reason to track that woman down and put a stop to her.”
Ben finished his ale and waved to Kate to bring another round. It was early morning still, but he figured anytime you were startled by an undead corpse that quickly exploded in your face, it was okay to drink before noon.
“There’s one other thing,” mentioned Ben.
He slipped the copper amulet out of his cloak and placed it on the table, cupping his hand over it to hide it from the rest of the room. Amelie frowned at it and then touched it with a finger. She flipped it over, and Ben was startled to see a second face.
“They look sort of like the faces that stand on the gates of the Sanctuary,” she hissed.
“First Mages,” said Ben slowly. “Whatever that means.”
“Where did you find this?” queried Amelie.
“Right below me when we sat down in that wagon yard, sitting in the mud,” responded Ben. “It’s like I was supposed to find it.”
“Something to do with the First Mages?” asked Amelie.
Ben shrugged.
“Rhys knows more than he’s said,” declared Amelie. “I think it’s time we ask him. With the Alliance and the Coalition, The Veil and Avril, and the demon army, we can’t afford to have another enemy out there.”
“Maybe they’re not enemies,” offered Ben. “Maybe they could be allies. If I was supposed to find that…”
“Even more reason to talk to Rhys.”
Amelie pushed the amulet toward Ben, but he shook his head.
“You keep it. You’re the one who knows about magic,” he said, wiggling his fingers at her.
“Just a quarter bell away from a trauma and already you’re promising the girl some magic?”
Ben jumped. Their host Kate had appeared over his shoulder and was winking at him.
“M-Magic?” stammered Ben.
“Come on, son.” Kate wiggled her fingers lasciviously. “What kinda inn do you think you’re in? You ain’t the first, and I’d bet a kettle full’a gold you ain’t gonna be the last to wiggle his fingers at this little sweet. Am I right, girl?”
Amelie blushed furiously.
“That’s, ah, that’s not what I meant,” mumbled Ben.
“Doesn’t feel half as good as you think it does,” quipped Kate. She leaned in conspiringly to Amelie. “I won’t spoil your secret, girl, but here’s a piece of free advice from a woman who don’t give nothin’ away for free. You tell him what you like and make him keep workin’ til you get it. He’ll do it, girl. He’ll do whatever you want him to and beg to do it again. Men are lapdogs when you decide you want to be the master.”
Kate winked and flounced away again, calling out to one of her girls and swinging her hips in a saucy roll.
“I, ah…” Ben tried to muddle through an explanation.
“I know what kind of magic you were talking about,” responded Amelie with a grin.
They settled down and started to talk through their next moves. The explosion was an unwelcome surprise. Stumbling across a corpse with a second creepy porcelain mask nearby was an even worse one, but after discussing it, they realized it changed nothing about what they needed to do. They still had to get supplies and return to Rhys and Towaal in the forest. Once Rhys healed, they would make their way through the wilderness and to the City.
If Milo had left three days before them and had gone down the forest road like the serving woman suggested, then the City was the only place he could go. It dovetailed with everything they suspected about him so far. He was an agent of the Veil, and since they hadn’t found the wyvern fire staff in Eldred’s room or on her body, then Milo must have it. Their first order of business was still to find him and the staff.
“Eldred’s body,” said Amelie. “What do you call the dead body when it’s, well, previously dead?”
Ben sipped his ale and shook his head. “I hope we don’t run into so many of those things that we have to come up with a term.”
More relaxed, Ben ordered a third round. Kate, sensing they’d gotten over the shock of the explosion, sidled up again.
“You sweethearts ready to talk?” she purred.
Amelie smiled at her. “We’re ready, but I guess there’s really not much to tell. We ate breakfast at the inn, what did you say it was? The Broken Wing? Well, we got to chatting about some things and decided to take a walk. We were walking out back of the inn, looking for a place with a little privacy…”
Kate’s lips curled into a smile, and Amelie winked at her. Ben flushed.
“And then, well, I don’t know what happened,” said Amelie. “I think I blacked out for a moment. When I came to, I was buried in a burning pile of straw, and the inn was gone.”
Kate turned to Ben.
“Yeah, that’s about it,” he claimed. “Maybe they were storing some volatile oils in the place? I’ve heard castles have that stuff for sieges. Or grain silos can go off like fireworks when they’re full of dust and someone lights a fire. Could blow up like that, maybe.”
Kate frowned. “I don’t think so. There’s nowhere for grain dust to be floating around the inn like that, and why would they have that much oil?”
Ben shrugged. He and Amelie fell silent.
“You didn’t see anyone?” pressed Kate.
“Not after we went around back. Inside, there were the serving women and what looked like some locals eating. No one that looked strange to me. No one I think would have caused an explosion like that.”
Kate sighed, unable to hide her disappointment at missing out on some unique gossip or a lead on what happened. She scooted back her chair and stood. “You two rest up. About midday, this place starts to get a little wild. You’re welcome to stay, but I’m not sure it’s your kinda tavern.”
Ben nodded. Then, something behind the woman caught his eye. He leaned over, peering around her. She turned, following his gaze, and Amelie looked as well.
“Black Bart,” muttered Amelie.
Ben grunted. She was right. Hanging above a sputtering fire and heavy mantel was a painted portrait of the pirate, the one they’d killed after he tried to betray them outside of Kirksbane. Below Black Bart’s portrait on the mantel was a slender, curved dagger.
“You know Bartholomew?” exclaimed Kate.
“We’ve… met him,” admitted Ben.
Kate beamed at them. “The patron of this inn. Without his gold, none of it woulda been possible.”
“Patron?” questioned Amelie. “He, ah, didn’t seem the generous type when we met him. No offense.”
Kate grinned and sat back down, waving to her girls to bring another round.
“He was the meanest son of a bitch I ever met,” confirmed Kate. “Lotta fun, though. I felt a bit bad about it afterward, to be honest. Never did get a chance to apologize.”
“Apologize for what?” asked Amelie.
“His eye!” exclaimed Kate with a broad grin.
“You’re the hoo— the girl who stabbed out his eye?” asked Ben incredulously.
Kate beamed at him.
“He told us he killed you,” mentioned Amelie. She evidently realized they were venturing into offensive territory and scrambled to add, “Well, maybe we heard wrong.”
Kate leaned back and cackled loudly. “I’m sure you heard it right, girl. That awful bastard nearly did kill me. Of course, I nearly killed him too when I put that dagger into his skull.”
Ben blinked at her, confused. One of her girls swung by with their drinks and Kate tipped hers up, gulping it down in three long swallows.
“Ah, grog. Terrible shit, truth be told, but it always reminds me of my days at sea. Wasn’t much longer after that when I met Black Bart for the first time. He was young, full of vinegar, and his soul was already soaked in blood, treachery, and deceit. My kinda man. He sailed into town and made straight for the Pink Cavern. That’s the tavern I worked at
then. He offered silver for the best girl in the house. I pushed aside all tha other hussies and told him I only took gold. Wasn’t true, but he was drunk as hell and had a coin purse fatter than he knew what to do with. We became a thing after that. He’d sail off, plunder some sorry ass town or take down a slow-moving merchant cog and then he’d come back and hole up a couple days with me.”
Amelie tilted up her drink as well.
Kate continued, “I was younger then and a bit wild, to be honest.”
Ben nodded, trying to imagine a wilder version of Kate.
“Well, one time, we were on the backside of a three-day bender. Durhang, shine root, grog… I didn’t know what was up or what was down. At some point, I guess I got a bit outta my mind and I thought Bart had offended me somehow, don’t even remember how now, but I put that there dagger straight into his face, catching him in the eye. He went down howling, screeching like one o’them monkeys the westerners bring. It brought in the house muscle, but they sure as hell weren’t going to throw out Bart or me. I was their gold goose, and he was the best customer. I had ‘em stick a hot poker in his eye socket to stop the bleeding. Then, I blew him another cloud’a durhang and sliced off a hunk of shine root. He started feeling better after a couple bells, and we went at it for another three days. I don’t think I slept that entire damn week!”
Ben swallowed his ale, wide-eyed and amazed. He believed every word the woman was saying.
“Well, after that,” said Kate, “Bart got word of some Ishalneese merchant fleeing the emperor’s wrath. Man was supposed to be packing a ship full’a gold, silver, statues, tapestries, and all that fancy junk highborn like. My man Bart couldn’t let a prize like that go unplundered. I was glad. He’d worn me out, let me tell you. Worn like I’d never been. I took a break and went to see my mam and pap. When I came back, there was no word of Bart. Weeks passed. Then months. Never heard of him sacking another town, taking another ship. Everyone assumed they’d been caught in a storm or foundered on some hidden rocks they were too drunk to avoid. I knew it had to be the worst. Bart left a chest full’a gold, though, which no one else knew about. It’s how I bought this tavern and hired my first girls. Been in business since.”
Ben tingled from the three ales he’d drank. He tried to keep a smile off his face as he listened. Kate was some kind of storyteller.
“Course,” drawled Kate. She leaned forward. “Now you tellin’ me Black Bart is alive?”
Ben scratched his head and looked at Amelie. She was looking at him.
“He, uh, was alive,” offered Ben lamely.
Kate’s eyes narrowed.
“I know you!” exclaimed a man. He pushed a girl off his lap and staggered to his feet.
A sparse beard graced his chin. His long hair was pulled back into a thick ponytail behind his head. His shirt was unbuttoned to his navel, and his pants bulged from where he must have been enjoying the girl squirming on his lap. He saw them looking and glanced down.
“I can explain that,” he slurred.
“Dale,” scolded Kate, “you drunk ass. Go back to Jenna. I’m tryin’ ta have a conversation here.”
“No, Kate,” insisted the man. “I know that girl.”
Ben, Amelie, and Kate all looked at the man skeptically.
“You’ve known a lot of girls,” allowed Kate, “but I don’t think this one is the type you know.”
“Really,” claimed the man. He swayed slightly like he was on a ship, but he wasn’t. “Man named Tomas hired me back when I was livin’ in the City. Said he wanted to meet some cutthroats. I took him to meet some right here in Akew Woods. ‘Fore we left the City, though, I met him at a big government building. Lots of officials. Fancy stuff. Important place.”
The man hitched up his belt, belched, and stared drunkenly at Amelie.
“And?” queried Kate.
The man’s story wasn’t making any sense to the bawdy house owner, but a sinking sensation was settling in Ben’s stomach. Surreptitiously, his hand dropped to the hilt of his sword.
“And what?” asked the man, obliviously adjusting the crotch of this trousers.
Behind him, the girl he was with pawed at him. “Come on, Dale. I been up all night with you. We gonna go upstairs or what?”
The man shook his head, apparently trying to clear the fog of drink.
“That girl’s a highborn,” he declared. “The place where I met the man Tomas, this girl was there. I saw her through a window. They told me she was the heir to some eastern throne. Issen or Irrefort, I think.”
Ben glanced at Amelie. Her face was tight, and one hand was gripping the hilt of her rapier. The other was stuffed in her belt pouch where she kept her magical catalysts. The patrons in the bar were going to get a nasty surprise if they thought she was merely some pampered lord’s daughter.
“Lady Amelie,” boomed a new voice.
Amelie’s head whipped around to stare at the new speaker.
A tall, red-haired man stood up from his table. He had a beard stretching to his navel and was as wide as he was tall. A giant battle-axe rested against his chair. His forearms were covered in scars, and his torso was covered in a strange jerkin formed of brown-green scales.
“Who’s Lady Amelie?” slurred Dale.
Kate’s eyes went wide, and she discreetly shuffled closer to Ben and Amelie. “I don’t want any trouble here, Musaaf.”
The huge red-headed man picked up his battle-axe. Behind him, a dozen more men stood, reaching for weapons. “Lord Gregor of Issen has a daughter named Amelie. Seems our girl here answers to the same name.”
Dale’s voice dropped, and a cold tension crept into the room. “Musaaf, you know I respect you and your men, but I saw her first. This Lady Amy is mine.”
Musaaf snorted, derisively eyeing Dale. “You and who else, Dale? Why don’t you run upstairs with Jenna and see if you still got enough man in you to get it up for her. We’ll take this from here.”
Behind Dale, a score of drunken sailors staggered to their feet.
A shaven-headed man wearing black leather britches and a knee-length, purple velvet coat stood up. His coat was open, revealing a shirtless chest covered in green tattoos.
“Dale’s on my crew now,” snarled the purple-coated man.
The men behind Musaaf tensed, white-knuckled hands gripping their weapons.
“Zane, didn’t you learn your lesson back in Ashraff?” snapped Musaaf. “From what I recall, you were enslaved and left to die in the fighting pits.”
The purple-coated man grinned and slipped both hands underneath his coat and behind his back. When he pulled them out, he was wearing two dark steel gauntlets. They were covered in razor-sharp spikes and tipped with four brutal looking claws.
Ben gasped as the gauntlets pulsed with bright green runes.
Musaaf hefted his battle-axe. “Going to take more than fancy gimmicks to get outta here with that lady, Zane. We’re not walking away from that kinda ransom.”
Zane, the purple-coated pirate, merely grinned broadly and clicked his gauntlets together, causing bright green sparks to sizzle between them.
Kate turned and whispered to Ben and Amelie, “You should probably run.”
Ben noticed her girls had already slunk away, along with half the other patrons in the tavern. The other half were either standing with weapons in hand or were staring drunk and confused at the men around them.
Suddenly, the fireplace burst with an ear-shattering crack. Decades worth of soot billowed into the room. Ben grabbed Amelie’s hand and ran.
Screams and the clash of battle rang out behind them.
2
The Deep Forest
“You did what?” exclaimed Towaal.
Ben shrugged uncomfortably.
“You said Musaaf and Zane?” croaked Rhys. The rogue was slouched against a fallen log, clutching the hilt of a long knife nervously.
Amelie coughed discreetly and appeared to be studying a nearby tree. She didn’t meet Ben’s eyes wh
en he looked to her for help.
“We didn’t do anything!” exclaimed Ben. “They recognized Amelie and started fighting on their own. We didn’t even talk to them.”
“I was talking about before,” remarked Towaal with a heavy sigh. “When you triggered Eldred’s trap and blew up the inn, likely killing a dozen people in the process and nearly burning down the entire town.”
“It would have blown up anyway,” declared Ben. “We were just unlucky to be the ones to trigger the trap. It could have happened to anyone.”
“I thought you said you climbed the side of the building and broke in?” queried Towaal.
Ben pursed his lips, struggling to come up with a reasonable explanation for that bit.
“Musaaf and Zane?” interrupted Rhys.
“I think those were the names,” murmured Amelie. “Do you know them?”
Rhys snorted and then explained, “They are two of the bloodiest pirate captains on the seas. They were both brought up under the vicious Black Bart. Once he disappeared, they set off on their own and have left a decade of rape and pillaging in their wake. Ironically, we could probably turn those two in for more gold than they would have gotten from you, Amelie.”
“Black Bart?” said Amelie. “Did we not tell you about…”
“Well, they didn’t take us,” interjected Ben, motioning hastily to quiet Amelie. He’d had enough explaining for the day. “We’ll just move on. Problem solved.”
“We’d better move quickly,” grumbled Rhys. “You managed to catch the attention of two ruthless pirate captains. Whichever one comes out of that fight walking isn’t likely to forget about you, Amelie. They’ll come for us, and we can’t be sitting here when they arrive.”
“Are you healthy enough to travel?” questioned Ben.
Rhys looked back at him blankly and then finally answered, “I’m certainly not healthy enough to fight a crew of pirates.”
Ben winced. Towaal shook her head in disappointment.
“I can continue to pour energy into you from the healing disc, Rhys,” she offered. “There will be a price to pay later.”