by T B Phillips
“Why did you let him live? Why did you let him escape?”
“Because he and his witch companion had worked dark magic, Your Honor.” The crowd listened intently. “His witch called upon the roots and vines to tie my men and me up, while she sent spiders to crawl up and down our skin, biting us and trying to force their way into our mouths and noses. We were powerless against their magic, Your Honor. When he made his escape and we were free, he channeled water and waves to drive back my ship. We barely escaped before the Kraken himself could rise from the water.” At this, the crowd wailed and screamed for the heads of both Braston and Gedon.
“Nonsense! Those stories are superstition and nonsense!”
It was Marcus’ turn to participate in the spectacle, and he rose from his chair. “Your Honor, if I may?” The magistrate nodded for him to go ahead and the prince began to speak. “More than a month ago, the same Braen Braston raided our winter stores. Just as our fleet had converged upon him, several of these Kraken rose from the water and secured his escape. We had multiple witnesses. Credible witnesses who will uphold the claims. Furthermore, I can personally attest to the use of magic by his witch accomplice.” The crowd was in total shock and let out a collective gasp.
Two Falconers walked forward, followed closely by a young woman. She would have been beautiful had her nose not been recently broken and twisted out of shape so horribly. Both of her eyes were black from bruising, and she was almost two weak to climb onto the platform.
The magistrate asked the prince, “What is this about? Who is this woman?”
“This woman is the most recent victim of Braen Braston. After he fled from the scene of the crime, and after killing my mother, he raced up the coastline to a small village.” The people stared, dumbfounded at the presentation of the woman. “There, his troops attacked simple people without food or gold and ravaged them with his senseless violence.”
“You, madame, what is your name, love?”
“I am Amira.”
“Where are you from, Amira?”
“A small village in the north called Atarax.”
“What did Braen Braston do to your village, my dear?”
Tears soaked the woman’s eyes as she relayed all of the bloody and gory details of the raid on her village. She described northern monsters, tall and bearded who cut the men to pieces and brutally ravaged the women. She broke into tears several times in the telling of the story, especially when she described the fate of the children. She spun a tale of magic and demons, unbelievable, had they not been collaborated by the Prince’s testimony. When she described the fate of her own child, she wept uncontrollably along with every mother in the audience.
“My dear, Amira,” Marcus was on a roll, and ready to push the crowd one more time. “May we show everyone here the proof that Braen Braston was the perpetrator of these crimes?”
With a nod, she agreed and turned her back to the crowd. One of the Falconers let her wool dress drop to the ground, removing her clothing down to her undergarments. The other lifted her skirt, revealing several cuts and carvings in her white skin. The crowd gasped in recognition at the unmistakable sabre cat devouring a wolf. After the crowd had seen her mutilated skin, she gathered up her dress and allowed the Falconers to lead her off.
Marcus cleared his throat and once more addressed the court. “Magistrate, I ask you to weigh the evidence you have seen and tend to the issue at hand. Do it quickly, so that I may ask the council, as representatives of you great citizens,” he pointed to the crowd, “for emergency powers and recognition as the heir to my father’s empire. I vow that as your king I will hunt down both the abomination Braen Braston as well as my treasonous brother.” Bowing his head, he added, “I will kill them and all of their co-conspirators in the name of my mother, our beloved matriarch, Lady Crestal Esterling!”
The crowd tried to push past the soldiers. Some were chanting, “Guilty!” while others shouted, “King Marcus!”
The magistrate banged his gavel, finally screaming as loud as he could over the noise. “I find Lord Chancellor Gedon guilty of all charges!” But, before he could pass a sentence and recommend that he be hanged by the neck in a public place, the crowd pushed forward, rocking the cage until it toppled over. Someone found a set of keys with which they opened the box, lifting out the old man. They raised him over their heads and delivered him to the center of the square.
The ravenous crowd tore off his clothing and began beating and kicking him. After his skull had been crushed and bones broken, his limbs were torn apart and tossed over the bridge into the river below. Matteas Brohn quickly escorted a smiling Marcus Esterling into a carriage, whisking him away to the Rose Palace.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
It had been a week since the mutineers had fired upon Ice Prince, and Braen Braston had not fully recovered his strength. He had reinjured several ribs during his display on the deck of She Wolf, and Sippen and Eusari joined forces to keep him in bed until fully healed. They had taken charge of both crews, brought provisions ashore and essentially resurrected the ghost town. He proudly watched from his hospital bed as both of his friends worked side by side with the crewmen, strengthening bonds as he had shown them.
Braen turned to the bed next to him and smiled. “Looks like we own an entire town, my friend.”
Gunnery Sergeant Krill spat over the side and remarked, “Wha’ da devil do we be need’n with a town, Cap’n?”
“I honestly have no idea,” Braen tried not to laugh, but felt the pain in his ribs nonetheless. “How’s your leg feeling?”
“Piss off, Cap’n.” Krill was a comical sight, looking down with his one eye at his one leg, the other having been amputated several days before.
“Aww, don’t be sore, Krill. I think it gives you character. Credibility as a pirate even.”
Krill smiled back, his one eye ablaze with sarcasm, “That’s why I wear the eyepatch!” Gesturing at his stump, he added, “Now I be need’n a peg leg.”
Braen smiled. It was good to see his that friend had survived the blast, albeit narrowly. “All that you need is a hook hand.”
“Gawds no, Cap’n! You kin put an eye out wit one of those!”
Both men laughed hysterically, resulting in a spasm that forced Braen to ease back down on the bed, wheezing from the pain in his ribs. A short time later, Eusari and Sippen walked into the room with plates of food for their recovering charges. Sippen took his plate to Krill, who instantly devoured the contents.
Eusari lifted the napkin over the plate, frowning down at the food. Blushing, she put the napkin over the food and stood to leave. “On second thought, I’ll bring you some soup.”
Braen raised an eyebrow incredulously, then looked over to see Krill gnawing on a spare rib. Looking back at Eusari, he nodded. “Yeah, that’s a good idea. It might be too soon for ribs.” He watched her scurry out of the room, red faced and embarrassed.
“Sippen, how bad off is Ice Prince?”
“Nuh… not bad. The tuh… top mast is gone. I need a new one.”
“I was afraid of that. Take a team into the forest and find a good one. Take Eusari with you.” He looked up to see her returning with a bowl of soup. Thankfully there were no bones in the bowl.
“Take me where?” She asked.
“Into the forest, we need a new topmast to get Ice Prince underway.” He sat up and she wedged a pillow beneath his back so that he could eat.
“I kuh… cannot go. I nuh… need to finish pumping She Wolf and tuh… tar her seams.”
Krill interrupted, “Tar... I love the sound of dat word, ‘tarrr.’ It rolls off de tongue, it do.”
“Are you serious?” Eusari looked like she was about to shove her knife in Krill’s one good eye. “People like you are the reason that Pirates have stereotypes.”
“Arrr, dat be true, but so do peg legs and eye patches, and I be
the only one wearing those, arrrrrnt I?” He either winked or blinked, but his point was made.
“Your friends are weird, Braston.” Standing up, she started making her way to the door. Motioning for Sippen to follow, she added, “come tell me the dimensions that you need for your post, little man. I’ll get it with my team.”
Braen waited until she and Sippen were out of earshot before he turned to Krill and said, “Yes, I know that they arrrrrrrr.” Both men laughed and Braen spilled his soup when he reached for his side against the pain.
Moments later a throat cleared in the doorway. Braen looked up to see Samani Kernigan standing in the doorway with a bundle.
“Come in.” Braen still did not trust nor like this man, but they were stranded together, and he decided to make the best of it. “I’ve hardly seen you since you arrived. What have you been working on, Sam?”
“Sippen found blacksmith equipment in town and I’ve been trying to help him restore a laboratory.”
“He’s spread thin overseeing the repairs of two ships. His hobbies will have to wait.”
Kernigan pulled the hand cannon from his waistband and held it up to the light, inspecting it. “This is a game changer, Braen. This and several other of his inventions could change this entire world, and I want to help him to do that. Please promise me that you’ll focus on his development.”
“They’re novelties, Sam, novelties that lack accuracy and reliability.”
“I disagree, but this is your command, Braston. I’ll not interfere, but you’re making a mistake if you don’t let him focus on weapons development.”
“Weapons? Weapons for what? Now that Nevra has The Cove, we’re rogue outlaws and probably have prices on our heads as we speak. We need to leave for the Southern Continent and seek asylum.”
“Braen, we have less than two more weeks until the flagships return to The Cove. The situation is getting dire, and I need to get to either Eston or Diaph. I have contacts in both ports.” He pulled a chair beside Braen’s bedside and sat. “If we move soon, we can bring support over to our side and strike back at Nevra.”
Looking thoughtful, Braen sat silent and rubbed his beard. Finally speaking he asked, “You know these men better than I do. What percentage will support you over Nevra?”
“That’s hard to say. But the faster we move the weaker his position. Pirates follow power, Braen.”
“Sam, I get that. But it’ll be at least two days until She Wolf is seaworthy, and several more until Ice Prince is.” Looking up at Kernigan, he noticed that something had changed in the man. For as long as he had known him, he was a wheeler dealer who constantly played with puppet strings. This new man looked humbled and concerned. Afraid even. He reconsidered. “Help Sippen get a lab established so he can build us some useful gadgets. Then, after we can get afloat, I’ll drop you off with your contacts. I won’t make any more promises beyond that.”
Kernigan looked honestly appreciative when he looked up. “Thank you, Braen.”
“You’re welcome. We’ll get you in charge of The Cove in no time, Sam. Then you can get back to your politics.”
Samani looked aghast. “No!”
“What’s wrong?”
“I think you misunderstand. I’ve no desire to lead The Cove.” Samani’s eyes pleaded with an honest disdain at the prospect, and, for once, Braen began to trust he did not have an ulterior motive.
Pulling off the sheets, the bearded captain climbed out of bed and indicated for Samani to follow him to the kitchen. “I need ale for this conversation. Let’s go drink.” Once seated at the kitchen table, Braen posed the question that had been burning. “How did you know that I couldn’t trust Artema Horn.”
Sipping from his mug, Kernigan began, “I’ve been an officer and advisor to The Cove since before Artema took over fifteen years ago.”
“Go on.”
“I know everything that happens in Andalon. My spies are networked in every city and major town throughout the empire, in Fjorik and even the Southern Continent.”
Braen nodded and commented, “That’s quite a network. How do you finance that?”
“That’s the easy part, and why I’m aligned with The Cove. I fund the web through a legitimate institution that is free from the oversight of the Ministry of Information.”
“The guild, you mean.”
“Yes,” Sam nodded. “the Pirate’s Guild. It’s imperative that I keep my web out of the gaze of the ministry and their Falconers. You might consider me the counter organization to theirs.”
“I see. So, get back to Artema. How did you know?”
“I didn’t, exactly. That was a complete and unpredictable surprise. I knew he was getting too close to the Esterling family, but that was it. I feared that he’d jeopardize The Cove and draw too much attention to the guild.” Samani sipped from his mug. “I wanted someone more capable and less self-consumed to take over operations before that happened.”
Braen nodded. “More capable than Nevra, and less self-consumed than Artema?”
“Exactly.” Sam downed his entire mug and poured another.
“So, this was me taking over the guild before Nevra could, and before Artema destroyed us with his incompetence?”
“In a nutshell.”
“Sam?”
“Yes?”
“I don’t even want my own kingdom back, how can you think that I want The Cove?” Braen took a long sip from his mug.
“Because it was prophesied.”
Braen spit the contents of his mug across the room.
Eusari went into the forest with six of her best fighting men, each armed with a crossbow and extra bolts. All week she had trained these men in stealth and knife throwing. She passed along every skill she knew, teaching them to fight up close like a thief with speed and agility as well as hiding in shadows. They brought the bows along with hopes they could train range weapons after completing their work.
She walked in complete silence through the woods, cringing when one of her men would misstep and make a sound. They were not perfect but improved daily.
Giovani, who had been elevated to cook in her crew, broke the quiet with a question. “Where did you learn how to walk like this? It’s especially difficult in a forest.”
“My father taught me. He was an excellent hunter and outdoorsman.” Thinking about him brought back pain that had been absent for years. “He also taught me archery and how to hold a knife.”
Jacque stepped on a branch, earning him looks of disdain from everyone in the party. “Sorry.” He muttered.
They walked like this for about a mile, until they finally reached a grove of spruce. Eusari picked out a suitably sized tree that matched Sippen’s requirements, and the men began to cut. She watched for a while, until the tree felled. She finally got bored watching them trim off the branches and walked away from the group to focus on other thoughts.
Braen Braston was foremost in her mind. She had spent more and more time brooding about the Northman, and that worried her. She was not ready to trust another man, not so quickly after losing Sa’Mond and Artema in a single night. He troubled her.
She found a clearing and chose a felled log to sit. No matter how hard she tried, her mind kept returning to the bearded man. At first, she wondered about his swift forgiveness after what she had done. How could he joke about the rib bone, the way that he did earlier? Is he toying with me? Making me feel bad? Is he waiting for his chance to crush me after gaining my trust? And why did he help with my crew? The thoughts brought up anger, and she crossed her arms against a chill.
After a while, she focused on the way he had gone berserk, killing the mutineers with a bloodlust that nearly destroyed She Wolf. He had ended Johon mercilessly. How had he done that? If she hadn’t of been there, to see the “power of the kraken” as the others had begun to call it, then she would not have beli
eved that he controlled the waters.
What worried her the most was recalling the night in Estowen’s Landing when Sa’Mond had died. She remembered reaching out with her mind and hearing the answer of the vines and insects. I did that. I called them. I felt them as if I were biting the soldiers and not the spiders. Feeling the air turn even colder, she pulled her cloak closer around her body.
Trying to relax she stretched out and felt fur. Startled, she looked back and saw that a very large black wolf had sprawled out and lay beside her. She froze. The animal looked up at Eusari and yawned, exposing huge teeth and jaws that could rip her into shreds. It settled down and pressed against her. With her hand still on the animal, she began to pet. Slowly at first, then, when the animal did not protest, she began to stroke its fur. When it allowed her to scratch behind its ears, she laughed out loud. The wolf only glanced at her and then pressed into her hand.
“That is quite a pet, you have there.”
Eusari was so focused on the animal, that she did not see the man walk up on her. She leaped to her feet, drawing a knife. The wolf stood and growled a low sound that made both her and the man uneasy. The newcomer placed his hands up, showing that he was not a threat. His only weapons were a bow on his back and an axe on his belt.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“Who are you?” She looked him over, measuring. He dressed in buckskins and a long black beard reached down his chest. His long black hair draped his shoulders.
“My name is Shon Wembley.” He reached out his hand, but she ignored it. After a moment, he put his back down. “I was hunting and heard the woodcutting. I’m sorry, I’ll leave you alone.”
“Wait.” Eusari detected something in his voice, something familiar. “Where are you from, Shon Wembley?”
“I am from Loganshire.”
“Where. Where in Loganshire?”
“My family is from Brentway, a tiny town about…”
“About six miles northeast of Logan.” Eusari finished his thought.