by T B Phillips
Suddenly a flash of light exploded over the wall. It startled her so much that her heart raced. She breathed slowly in and out to let her mind catch up to her eyes as she reasoned with a suddenly horrifying display. She watched as guardsmen exploded into human fireballs, screaming and leaping from the parapets and from the wall itself. In seconds, the heavy wooden gate erupted with red and orange flame that lapped and scorched the brick of the defensive armaments. In no time, the flames reached the black powder stores and sections of the wall exploded in quick succession, tossing men like ragdolls into the black of the moonless night.
She raced downstairs but was stopped by palace guards. “Sorry Lady Horslei, but your father gave strict orders that you’re to stay in your chambers.”
“What’s going on?”
The men refused to answer. They looked anxious at the palace door with nervous apprehension, as if it would explode inward at any moment.
“Where is my father?” Sarai pressed, stalling with hopes that she could either learn more or have an opportunity to run out the door and lend aid as needed.
“I’m here.” Abraham was hurrying down the stairwell in his military uniform and light armor. Sarai was shocked to see that a sword was strapped on his side. In all of her life, she could not remember having seen him wear one. “Go back to your rooms and bar the door. Don’t come out until I release you.” When she hesitated, he shouted, “Go!” Immediately she raced up the steps.
Once safely in her rooms, she moved a couch in front of the door. Frustrated, she rushed to her window to watch and learn what she could. The searing flames burned her face as the wind blew into her window, but she stood defiantly and watched as tears poured down, vaporizing from the heat.
Below, her father mounted his horse and formed up the city guard’s reserves. He moved archers away from the walls, and they lobbed arrows over the stone ramparts into the night. These burst into flames as they flew, disintegrating into ash. Her eyes grew wide in amazement. What kind of weapon were the Pescari using?
There had been at least five hundred men on the wall when the attack began. By now the wall was devoid of life and those who survived ran into the square behind the reserves. Her father’s fighting force had been reduced by nearly half. She knew that he was nervously waiting for the gate to fall, and his little army made a pathetic sight.
Suddenly, the gates crumbled from the heat, revealing a Pescari teen on the other side. The debris exploded inward with so much force that it panicked the destrier beneath Sarai’s father. The beast, normally calm and controlled in battle, reared in fright, throwing Abraham to the dirt and hard against the city fountain. He stomped and kicked, massive hooves striking the motionless man on the ground. Tears again flowed down Saria’s cheeks vaporizing immediately into puffs of steam as she willed Abraham to stand up.
Two dark figures approached the gate. Sarai watched with hope as they walked toward the boy with confidence, hooded heads held high as if they would end the entire affair on their own. Above, a screech broke above the roar of flames and Sarai saw two large birds of prey circling overhead. Silently she prayed that they wouldn’t harm the boy, and for a chance at peaceful settlement. Another tear rolled down her cheek as she glanced toward her father’s still form.
The Pescari boy raised his hands up into the air toward the great birds above. In a flash two streams of fire shot out from his outstretched form, briefly turning the circling shapes into legendary phoenixes. For several seconds the fiery falcons flew, screaming painfully into the night.
On the ground, the Falconers fell to their knees, paralyzed from the pain that their vestiges endured. In a flash, one of the men erupted into flames and took off running toward the horse stables. He threw himself down and rolled in the hay hoping to put out the flames, instead spreading the inferno to the neighboring buildings and trapping him with the beasts that remained in their stalls. The second specter grabbed the reigns of the governor’s horse and swung atop the beast. Turning its head, he raced eastward toward the far gate and freedom.
The rhythmic stomping of armored boots on cobblestone turned her attention. The Imperial troops marched into position behind the city guard, despite that their commander was beyond the wall. Halting, they too waited for the Pescari to enter the gate, not wanting to rush into the chokepoint and certain death. Sarai peered through the firelight and saw that the buckskin clad warriors had lined up, most atop horseback with arrows nocked. At their head stood the boy, fully engulfed in flame and not appearing to feel the heat.
Having seen enough, she raced back down the stairs and halted. The guards from earlier stared through the open door into the square. Taking advantage of their turned backs, she crept silently across the main hall toward their quarters. The room was empty, all occupants having been called to action, and she broke into a heedless run as she crossed through the bunk room. On the other side was a sentry office.
This room was smaller, adorned with a single desk, a chair and several locked trunks. Weapons of differing varieties hung on the wall, but she ignored them and ran to the desk. One by one she pulled open the drawers until she found the item she was looking for. A ring of five keys, one of which must open the cell that held Cassus Eachann. Keys gripped tightly in her hand, she ran from the room and back into the main hall.
The guards still stood at the door, hands on their sword hilts nervously shifting their weight from one foot to another. They appeared terrified and Sarai frowned as urine flowed from the pantleg of the smaller man, forming a puddle around their boots. Beyond them the motionless form of her father lay at the base of the fountain.
Their lack of action enraged the Lady Horslei. Pushing past the cowards, she rushed to her father’s side. Blood trickled from his temple and his eyes were closed. He breathed slow and shallow. He showed no signs of awakening any time soon. Tears again filled her eyes and hoofbeats drew them away from her father and toward the charred remains of the gate.
Two figures on horseback raced through the opening, a firebolt exploding behind them. She blinked away tears and realized that she was watching Robert and General Reeves return to the city. She hugged her father’s still body and cried for their help. In a moment, her love had dismounted and knelt by her side. He wrapped his arms around her while the general took charge of the city defenses.
Robert pointed at the two guards standing in the palace doorway. “You two! Come here!” The men hesitated, looking at each other and then at the gate. Robert screamed forcibly, “Come here now!” They broke free of their fear and ran into the courtyard, kneeling beside their fallen governor. “Let’s carry him inside! You grab him under his armpits, and you support that leg. They lifted him on the count of three and scurried toward the palace.
Firebolts and arrows flew as the battle reached the courtyard. Sarai stood and hurried after the men as they carried Abraham’s body toward the doors. She screamed out when an arrow flew directly at her betrothed’s back. “Robert!” He spun around, still holding her father’s leg and frowned at the projectile. It narrowly missed his chest as he flinched at the last minute and it grazed his triceps, the red streak marring the white jacket. In that moment she realized that he finally fit into the once silly costume, or rather, it finally fit him.
The small group carried the governor into the bunkroom. They laid him on a cot and Robert sent one of the men to retrieve the surgeon. Sarai watched with love as her betrothed took control of the situation, leading the men into action to save her father.
“Sarai.” Robert looked exhausted as he talked. “The Pescari. They’re not what we thought. They. They’re dangerous, Sarai. We must help keep them out of our city.”
Shocked, she glared with mouth agape. “Who. Who are you, Robert?” Anger rose within as she processed his words. “And what do you mean by ‘our’ city? This is my city! After you Imperials leave and return to Eston, we’re the people forced to live with regret if
we don’t help them.”
“That boy.” He pointed to the window. “That boy is shooting fire from his hands and eyes, Sarai! He killed a Falconer! He’s dangerous and will hurt you. We must fight and drive them back across the river. I’m going to rejoin Max and lead this fight!”
Sarai could not believe her ears. “No.” She shook her head. “I think that you and your nursemaid started this fight during your ‘parlay.’ Is this what you wanted all along? Were you just giving me the same diplomatic lip service? All our previous talks about humanitarianism and rights for all Andalonians were… were what? To woo and build my trust? Well, I’ve never felt so betrayed. I’ll let those people in and treat them as guests!” Pointing down at the form of her father she added, “You’re no better than my father, Robert Esterling!”
Robert approached her slowly, arms out and trying to hold her hands. Voice soft he said, “Sarai, please open your eyes and see that these people are not what we believed. I love you, Sarai. I wanted to help them, but they’re evil. They’re destroying the city and killing innocent men.”
Aghast, she pulled back from his touch and ran from the room. Crossing the great hall, she did not stop until she rounded the corner to the kitchens, where she and Robert had spent so much time together talking and dreaming about a peaceful and inclusive empire. She had thought that her Robert would be a different kind of ruler, and she had truly believed she would stand at his side and rescue all poor and wretched people from poverty. She looked at the breakfast nook where their books and study cards lay in stacks and she cried.
Chapter Nineteen
Eusari sat in a sobbing heap on the deck of She Wolf as the ship pulled further from the harbor. Shock consumed her as her eyes fixated on the lifeless body of Sa’Mond on the distant pier. Beside her, Braen lay in a heap, bloody and beaten by her hand. She trembled and wished that it had been her instead on the pier. She watched as one soldier used his foot to push her friend’s corpse off and into the water, causing her to cry out into the night.
Transfixed, she hardly noticed as Skander Braston fled with his guard as soon as Imperial soldiers secured the scene. The Queen’s head lay discarded in the square, and Marcus had no doubt accused her or Braen when the soldiers arrived. She and her crew would be hunted down and killed for transgressions against the crown, and so many lives had been ruined by her hatred and arrogance.
The rest of the world blurred, and she could only make out muffled sounds aboard the ship. Her crew, if it was still her crew after Sa’Mond’s death, made preparations to turn out to open sea without interrupting her mourning. No one tried to comfort their captain. Eventually someone, she did not know who, helped her up and escorted her into her cabin where she eventually fell asleep.
She awoke the next morning and found a tray of food on the table in her cabin. She glanced at it and felt her stomach knot. She had no appetite for anything at all, much less food. Looking back at her bed, she considered returning to it and staying below decks forever, but she knew that she could not. Instead, she made her way to the room where she had previously kept Braen. She tried the handle and the door opened easily. Inside, she found Braen sitting up with his wounds tended, eating his breakfast. He seemed to have regained much of his strength despite the broken ribs and nose.
“I owe you an apology, Braen.”
Smiling back at her, he pointed at his meal. “Don’t worry about it. These runny eggs more than make up for the past couple of weeks.”
“Seriously, Braston, how can you be so lighthearted about everything after what I did to you?” There had been quite a lot of trespasses against him, during the voyage to Estowen’s Landing, and she owed this man more than she could ever repay. “I almost sold you off to that monster.” She thought again about Sa’Mond and tears choked off anything else that she could have thought to add.
“Really. I understand. You thought I was my brother, or that he was me.”
“Why didn’t you correct me?”
“I was embarrassed.” He shrugged. “Eusari, I was also guilty of crimes on that day. I fought in the streets and killed innocent men who were protecting their families. They protected you even. Besides, I didn’t stop Skander from having his fun. I knew that he was looking to rape villagers, and all that I did was return to the ship to pray. I’m truly sorry and I hope that you forgive me.”
“You’re a strange man, Braen Braston, and I don’t know what to make of you. You want no glory for yourself and refuse to take up arms to take back the kingdom that’s rightfully yours.” She shook her head. “You even rejected my sexual advances when I was practically throwing myself at you.”
“To be accurate, you advanced pretty far after you poisoned me.” Braen managed a shy smile, despite her violations of him.
Eusari winced at the memory. “I… I’m sorry. I guess that I’m no better than those who hurt me. I should never have… Revenge overtook me… I’m sorry, Braen.” She cried again, this time burying her face in his chest.
Braen, despite the intense pain in his ribs, lifted an arm and placed it around her. He let her sob until there were no tears left. After she pulled back and wiped her face and nose on Braen’s table napkin, he addressed her. “Eusari, you don’t have control over this crew, do you?” He made it a statement and not really a question when he spoke.
Eusari shook her head. “No.”
“I feared that was so. Sa’Mond led them and you were a figurehead.”
“Yes. How? How did you know?”
`“When we first got underway, I saw how the men looked at you, and how they worked with precision for him. They work out of pure fear, and now that he is gone…”
“Yes. Now that he is gone, I’m afraid that they will turn on me. Women are unlucky on a ship, and I am the worst kind of woman. I killed their previous captain.”
“Yes, I heard that story. I also heard that you ate a part of him.”
Hearing her own legend made her smile just a little bit. “You heard about that, did you?”
“I did. Was there any truth to that story, or was it just a legend? Please, I am dying to know.” His smile was disarming, and a little bit charming despite his battered face.
“The captain had his way with me for too many years. After a while, I just stopped fighting. Stopped struggling. But when you stop struggling against a monster, they find new ways to make you.”
Braen had lost his smile as Eusari told her story. “I’m sorry for asking, you don’t have to continue.”
“It’s ok. I’ve never spoken any of this aloud and I think that it may be time. Sa’Mond knew. Well most of it anyway, but he’s gone.” Tears returned but there were fewer than before. “One night was particularly bad. That butcher was carving on me and I just couldn’t take it.” She lifted her shirt and showed him her back. She was covered with thick deep scars that ran all the way down to her buttocks. “Sa’Mond heard my cries and couldn’t stand by any longer. But by the time he kicked the door in, I had already taken the knife and had the captain pinned on the bed. I held him with my legs while I reached down and castrated him. When I saw Sa’Mond, I thought that he would kill me. I wanted him to. He was a eunuch, and because of that, I feared that he would take greater offense to what I had done.”
“He understood though?”
“He did. He helped me tie him, and then escorted him to the main mast. He lashed him, weeping and wailing to the post. He was naked and the men stared in awe at the gaping hole below his limp dick. It was the quickest mutiny in history, I think. I sat at a table, calmly smiling at the former man. Sa’Mond went below decks and brought me out a plate of two ordinary meatballs. I ate every bite while staring and smiling, and the entire crew and captain believed that I had eaten his manhood. Eventually, he bled out on the deck.”
“Sa’Mond ran things after that?”
“He did. He supported me and that added to my mystique.
I think they believe me to be a witch, or something worse.”
“Do you know any of them? Do you know any of the crew by name? Their stories?”
Eusari did not hesitate to answer, “No. I left that all up to Sa’Mond. I never even spoke to them. I did my jobs and to me they were nothing more than my crew. They’re certainly not my friends.”
“How many crewmen are onboard She Wolf?”
“Thirty-two. Wait, twenty-nine after Sa’Mond and the others fell last night.” She choked up when she had to form her friend’s name in her mouth.
“Then we have a hell of a lot of work to do or we’re going to die.”
Over the next few days, Eusari followed Braen’s advise to the letter. She got out and met the crew, worked alongside them and ate with them in the crew mess. At first, they were leery and standoffish. Some even avoided her altogether. He assured her that was normal, and that she would never be able to win them all over. Eventually Braen built up enough strength to go topside, and he worked with them as well. She watched how he interacted, treating them like individual people who were special. He listened to their complaints and talked them through their fears.
At first, she had thought Braston was insane. Her experience was that pirates were rough men that needed to fear their leadership if they were to be kept in line. But he eventually proved to her that all people are the same, even the roughest of characters. People crave to be treated with respect and listened to, and the northern captain was a good listener. She learned a lot from Braen, most importantly, she learned the importance of building trust. She had lived her entire life avoiding relationships and the change proved hard for Eusari.
Quick enough, she learned that Devil Jacque was the Quartermaster who had picked her up off the deck and placed her in her room. He had also brought her the meal that she had never touched. Peter Longshank had lost his leg to a cannonball while serving as a gunner in the Imperial navy. He hated when the others called him “Peg leg Pete,” so she agreed to call him Peter. Gorgeous George was the hideous pox-scarred cooper who had lost an ear and half of his nose fighting against a merchant from the southern continent. The rest of the crew each had a story, a life before crewing She Wolf.