by Aaron Pogue
Corin tried to bring his sword to bear, but he was too late, the quarters too close. Tommy caught the clumsy swing on crossed blades, then planted a vicious kick in Corin’s sternum. It drove Corin to the ground and stole his breath. Tommy followed him down, one knee pinning Corin’s sword-arm to the floor and the other driving down at Corin’s collarbone, threatening his air supply.
Corin bucked and heaved against the withered man, but he could not quite dislodge him. He fought to throw Tommy off his sword arm, but the arm wouldn’t budge. He plunged his other hand beneath his cloak, grasping for the dagger on his belt, but Tommy’s bulk blocked him.
A manic fever blazed in Tommy’s eyes as he crouched over Corin, both knives held high and ready to strike.
“You dared to come against me. You threatened me on my own ship? Well, now you’ll pay.” He hesitated a moment more, savoring his victory, and just then Corin’s searching hand found another weapon in the pockets of his cloak. The druid’s dartgun. He tore it free, just as Tommy showed his teeth.
“I always said you were soft,” Tommy sneered. “How did you ever survive this long?”
“I go well armed,” Corin said. He stabbed the dartgun against Tommy’s thigh and pulled the tiny trigger.
It pulled almost too easily. Corin had fired the dwarven pistol twice before, and he expected the strong metallic resistance, the fierce buck and snap of tamed explosion, but the druid artifact merely twitched and hissed. For one terrifying moment, Corin feared something had gone wrong. The blades came slashing down toward his face.…
Then Tommy Day fell forward, limp as a sodden rag. One of the knives went finger-deep in the fine, smooth floorboards next to Corin’s ear, and the other skittered out of Tommy’s nerveless grip. The First Mate lay over Corin like a smothering blanket, a dead weight under the effects of the druids’ poison.
For a moment Corin didn’t move. He only lay there on his back, fighting for his breath. He’d killed Billy Bo. He’d defeated Tommy too. What now? He needed to retrieve the dwarven pistol—that was not his property to lose—but otherwise, he was finished here. He’d have to find some answer for the crew, but perhaps the Nimble Fingers could help with that. If not, Corin had some contacts. He could break them up, see them on a dozen different ships, and soon enough this business would all be forgotten.
While he was still scheming, someone coughed above him. Boots scuffed nervously on the planking. Corin closed his eyes and heard the quiet rustle of several anxious men crowded together and waiting to see what would happen next.
He was not alone. He jerked his left shoulder just enough to twitch Tommy’s head aside, and found half a dozen crewmen standing over him, just inside the cabin’s door. At least twice as many more jostled at them from behind. They must have arrived during the struggle—likely drawn as soon as Billy Bo fired his one shot—but none of them had rushed to Tommy’s aid. Corin took some comfort in that. Still, there were unfamiliar faces in the crowd, and even those he knew had not left him on the best of terms.
In a blink, Corin made a plan. He palmed the tiny glass-and-silver dart that had disabled Tommy Day and concealed it with the dartgun beneath his cloak. Then he heaved with all his might and sent Tommy crashing back against the outer hull. Corin made no effort to conceal his exhaustion, but crawled clumsily to his feet, still panting, and stood a moment staring out at the half-circle of men around him.
Among them all, Corin found a friend. Big Jack Brown broke from the crowd and came within two paces of his old captain before he pulled up short. He shook his head in disbelief. “It’s really you. They said it was, but I couldn’t half believe them. You came back from the dead.”
“Aye,” Corin said, his voice as grim as he could make it. “I have unfinished business here.”
“I can’t doubt you do, but if it’s worth a sou, I’ll say I’m sorry, Captain. I wish I’d stayed to save you. I wish I had come back.”
Corin didn’t dare show the gratitude he felt for those words. Big Jack, like Charlie and Sleepy Jim, was least among the men who’d wronged him. But now he had his part to play.
“You may yet be forgiven,” Corin said; then he passed his gaze on to the others in the room. “But there will be a price for those who owe it. Billy Bo and Tommy Day have paid already.”
One of the strangers in the crowd spoke up. “What…what’d you do to the First Mate? He had you dead to rights, and all you did was touch him.”
Corin flashed his teeth. “Haven’t you heard my tale? They left me to the ghosts of old Jezeeli. They marooned me in a dead god’s tomb. They buried me beneath the desert sands, but I came back.” He raised his empty hand and let it hang for a moment in the heavy silence. “All I had to do was touch him. Now Tommy Day is with the ghosts I left behind. Dave Taker’s next, unless one of you wants the honor.”
One and all they shrank away, and Corin nodded at them. “Good. Then hear my words: Any man who serves Dave Taker is my enemy from this day on. Save that one promise, those of you who need my pardon, have it. Go your way. Find new work, and may you prosper in it. But if you remain in Taker’s crew, I’ll show you to your grave.”
Nervous whispers danced like wildfire through the crowd, until someone brave enough stepped forward and asked, “But…but what about the First Mate? What about our plans?”
“The First Mate’s dead,” Corin said. “The plans are done.”
“But—”
Corin cut him off. “Do not make me regret my pardon! Marzelle is yours no more. Find some other port to ply your trade.”
The unknown pirate wanted to argue more, but fear held him back. Corin held his gaze, imperious, until the man backed down and slunk away. Most of the others followed his example, though some few remained. Corin knew them at a glance—men from his old crew, and these were some of the best. Corin guessed what they intended, and he cut them off.
“You have your pardons. I know your faces all, and I will credit you for staying to the last, but now’s the time to leave.”
“Beg your grace,” Big Jack stammered, “but there’s a business left to do.”
Corin arched an eyebrow. “Aye?”
Big Jack came forward gravely. “Aye, aye. I count two bodies on the plankings, and we’ve all seen enough of pirate ghosts, I hope you know.”
Corin broke at that. He chuckled once, and it became a roaring laugh. “I suppose I do,” he said.
“Then we’ll consign them to the deep, and straightaway. You can count on me, Captain.”
Corin hesitated. Big Jack would keep his word, and superstitious as these men had proven, he’d likely do it quick. The Espinola had to have a boat sufficient to the task, and these men could get out past the breakers before the sun was even high. Give it an hour, two at most, and every trace of Tommy Day and Billy Bo would be buried in the sea.
One thing only stayed Corin’s hand: Tommy Day was not yet dead. He knew the druids’ poison ought to keep him comatose for half a day at least, so that was no concern. But it seemed a dreadful thing to dump a sleeping man into the sea. Even a man like Tommy Day.
In the end, it wasn’t Corin’s own grievances that decided him. It was the memory of something the shady innkeeper had said. Tommy had punished Lord Béthané for his defiance by burning his manor to the ground—with his wife and child still inside.
“See that it’s done quickly,” Corin said.
“With a ball and chain around their ankles to keep ’em down,” Jack said. “I don’t ever hope to see the likes of this First Mate again.”
Corin clapped him on his back, then stepped aside to yield the corpses to Jack and his assistants. While they set about their tasks, Corin finished his, snatching up the dwarven pistol from the floor. He caught up both of Billy’s too and passed those to Big Jack. “For your trouble.”
“You’re too gracious,” Jack said. “The standard fare’s a silver coin.”
“Find me at the Nimble Fingers tavern when you’re done, and I’ll see you get at
least a handful. Fair?”
“More’n fair.”
Corin nodded. “Clear skies ’til then.”
“Just one more question, Captain.”
“Aye?”
“What do you have planned for Dave Taker?”
Corin thought a moment, then shrugged. “I said before. He still has a price to pay.”
“And if there was someone in his crew, someone who’d stood by while he did awful things, someone anxious to see that price paid…”
“Aye? Out with it, man.”
Jack shrugged one shoulder. “I can point you after Taker. I know where his messengers meet him in the Wildlands. And when. I could get you there.”
Corin held the sailor’s gaze for a long moment. “You really want to see him dead, don’t you?”
“I really wish I had done something sooner. You arriving here…you just reminded me that I am not the sort of man who does great things. But I have served that kind of man before. I’d be glad to do it once more.”
Corin offered him a smile. “You’re a good man, Jack. Hold onto that. As for Dave Taker…he’ll pay his price in time. Right now, I’m angling after bigger fish.”
“Blake. You know they say he’s a Vestossi?”
Corin chuckled but said no more.
Jack just shrugged. “Well, I can’t guess how I would help you there, but when you’re ready to find Taker, I’ll be here. And if you think of something else…”
“See to these corpses,” Corin said. “That’s all I ask.”
“Aye, aye. Clear skies to you.”
“And you as well.”
They shook hands almost formally; then Corin turned his back and left the Espinola to the dead.
Taker’s crew had melted away, so Corin found the deck abandoned, but the pier below was still crowded close with the curious. A hush fell over them as Corin reached the top of the gangplank, and he couldn’t help but grin as he came down. They must have heard some rumors already from the Espinola crew, but shock and admiration still reigned on every face to see Corin emerge victorious.
He felt a little shock and admiration of his own. The sun was bright, the breeze was cool, and everything was well with the world. For a moment, anyway. He’d survived again. There was an old familiar thrill in that. He’d bested a brutal enemy and come away unscathed.
And more importantly, he realized with a start, he’d done it without tapping any of Oberon’s strange powers. True, he’d used the druid’s dartgun, but that was spoils of war. Fair and square. From the moment he’d arrived here on the pier, it had been pure Corin Hugh.
There was more to the victory too. He hadn’t just put down a rabid tyrant. He’d also made real progress in his quest for vengeance. For the first time since he’d left Jezeeli, he had a lead on the men he wanted dead. Dave Taker was in the Wildlands on an errand for Ethan Blake. The Wildlands was no small place to search, but Big Jack could lead Corin right to the man. But he had also freed up his new friends in the local Nimble Fingers—new friends much indebted to him over this morning’s work—and Corin felt some confidence that they could find Blake for him.
Corin’s grin faded, but his resolve held strong. Iryana was alive and still in Ethan Blake’s possession. “Only barely bruised,” Tommy had said. Oh, yes. Ethan Blake would answer for his sins.
Lost in these thoughts, Corin reached the bottom of the gangplank and ran aground against a tall, familiar form. Most of the idly curious onlookers had pulled back to grant the hero space, but the watchman who’d confronted Corin earlier had never budged, and now he looked set to resume that conversation.
He dropped a heavy hand on Corin’s shoulder and squeezed hard. “You think you get to walk away from this?”
“I do,” Corin said. “I really do. You need to ask yourself if you will.”
The watchman laughed. “I’m not afraid of you, little man.”
“That suits me fine,” Corin said. “I prefer when folks don’t see me coming. But I am not the one you need to fear.”
“Oh? Who’ve you got in mind?”
Corin rolled a casual gaze over the gathered crowd. There were pirates in the crowd and sailors who had left their work to watch the show, but there were locals too. There were villagers who’d lived under the First Mate’s cruel reign. Corin nodded in their direction.
“Think about the people of Marzelle. Think about the men you’ve pushed around.”
“The First Mate—”
“Is dead!” Corin interrupted, and he raised his voice enough to let the message carry. “Your master’s gone. There’s no more hand on the tiller, and no more money coming either. You have just become an orphan in a cruel, cruel world.”
The watchman shook his head, but sweat already beaded on his brow. “There’s more of us—”
“You mean the First Mate’s crew? You saw them slinking past, didn’t you? Defeated. Even as we speak, they’re calling in favors and quietly booking passage on the first ship they can find to leave this town. So how many does that leave of your sort, the hired force? Half a dozen? Even if it’s a score or more, I hear Lord Béthané has a grudge to bear against you. And the Marquis too. I’m sure there are more, and all those greedy hearts who backed the Captain, everyone who bowed to his rich bribes…they’re going to forget you now the money’s gone.”
“But…but…”
Corin reached up to clap the big man on the shoulder. “The way I see it, you have one chance, here and now, to make things right. Play it right, and you could be a hero.”
“How? Tell me!”
Corin didn’t show a grin. He jerked his head toward the ship behind him. “The First Mate’s dead and the Captain is long gone. The crew’s dispersed too, but their ship is still in port.”
The watchman frowned, perplexed. “What?”
Corin sighed and said it plainly. “Take the ship.”
“Oh, I’m no sailor.”
“No. You…No. Claim the ship on behalf of some injured nobleman and you might make yourself a friend. Better still, loot the captain’s cabins and the storage holds, and share whatever you find there with the common folk.”
“That’ll work?”
Corin held his gaze. “Move fast, act confident, and never look back. It always works for me.”
The watchman dropped his grip on Corin’s shoulder. He transferred his attention to the mighty ship towering over them, and while he was still mulling possibilities, Corin ducked his head and slipped quietly away. The crowd there welcomed him, and seconds later the watchman was lost to sight.
Some among the sailors came to clap him on the shoulder. Some villagers came forward to thank him or to ask if the rumors were all true. One was a familiar face, the same old Josef who’d attacked him just last night, but now he came to Corin with a warm embrace and clumsy Ithalian.
“Is true? The First Mate’s end?”
Corin threw a glance over his shoulder and just caught sight of Big Jack Brown and his assistants in a little boat, pulling hard against the tide to leave the harbor. Corin nodded. “Aye, he’s done.”
“And this guard? He’ll hero?”
Corin cocked his head, really considering the possibility for the first time. “That I couldn’t say. He might. He might find a pardon. He might just as easily end up in stocks. It doesn’t matter.”
“Then why?”
Corin chuckled. “It’s my final blow against Dave Taker. If he ever finds his way back here now, he’ll come back without a crew, without a ship, and without the resources he’d invested.”
“It is all conniving?”
“Truer words were never said, my friend. It is all conniving. Now come. I think I’ve earned a drink.”
Half an hour later, the innkeeper met them at the door. “It can’t be true! Is it true? Josef! They are saying—”
Josef answered. “Is true. This Ithalian is hero.”
“But so soon! You only just arrived, while they have plagued our town for weeks. Now they say the F
irst Mate is dead and his victims are picking at the bones of his old power.”
“Did I not give my word? I did exactly as you asked of me.”
“But so soon!” the host repeated.
Corin favored him with a smile. “There is one thing in this world I can’t afford, and that is hesitation. That’s also why I need the news I asked of you last night.”
“Francois left town last night. He will post word to us if he learns anything in Brinole, but he intends to travel all the way to Aepoli if that’s what it takes.”
“You see,” Corin said. “You are just as quick to do as you have promised. How soon will you hear back from Brinole?”
“Tonight at the latest. A rider could be here before sunset.”
“Excellent. He may have to ride to Aepoli to learn everything I need to know, but any shreds of information he finds along the way will serve me well. And of the…local matter?”
The innkeeper frowned. “Which one is that?”
“The druid hiding here in Marzelle. Have you learned anything about her yet?”
He shook his head. “Nothing yet. I did put around the description you provided, but no one in Marzelle recognized it.”
“Ah,” Corin said, disappointed, and the innkeeper hurried to reassure him.
“It should be much easier to investigate now, because of what you’ve done. I am sure if she’s still here, we’ll find her for you.”
“It warms my heart to hear it. In the meantime, bring me wine and bread and something roasted. And how is Charlie Claire? Any news from your physician?”
“He is here! His wounds are patched, but he needs rest and better board than pirates tend to get.”
“Can you attend to that?”
“Already done. He has a room here for as long as he desires, and I will see he’s fed as well. In fact, he’s lunching even as we speak.”
“In his rooms?”
“Indeed.”
“Then bring mine there as well. I’ll join him.”
The innkeeper did not immediately respond, but something in his expression caught Corin’s attention. He cocked his head. “Is something wrong?”