The Wrath of a Shipless Pirate (The Godlanders War)

by Aaron Pogue

  Corin stepped back and looked around the clearing. The wizard and the giant had settled back into a quiet conversation, but everyone else was gradually drifting toward Corin and the farmboy. Those close enough to have heard his last comment nodded in quiet agreement.

  Corin waved his hands at the clearing. “Then what are you doing here? Where’s your cover?” He stopped himself, remembering the wall of nothing he’d crashed into before. “Ah. Does your wizard hide you?”

  The farmboy grinned. “Nah. We’re here to be seen. We’re hunting monsters.”

  Corin shook his head. “Perhaps you’re the madmen.”

  “We’re adventurers with nothing to lose and everything to gain! We’ve been out here months and we’ve survived. Haven’t lost a man yet! In fact,”—he waved toward the Wildlander—“we gained one!”

  Corin looked that way, and the savage answered his glance with a friendly nod. It was such an ordinary gesture, such a perfectly civilized act, that it shattered Corin’s restraint. His curiosity overcame him, and he said, “I thought your people lived on the high plains.”

  The Wildlander nodded, silent.

  Corin spread his hands. “Well? You’re an awful long way from your wigwams.”

  “And you’re an awful long way from your gods. Which of us will suffer most?”

  Corin considered it a moment, then shrugged. “Ephitel’s never done anything to keep the rain off my head.”

  Several around the circle roared with laughter at Corin’s little sacrilege. The savage only offered a shadow of a smile. It was a pitiful thing, there and gone, but the farmboy clapped Corin on the shoulder as though he’d accomplished some great feat. “I think you’re going to be very welcome among our little band,” he said. “Now! Enough interruptions! You were telling how you shipwrecked and this…pirate captured you and your crewmate.”

  “Aye, just so,” Corin said, playing for sympathy. “I made it out alive. Poor Ezio wasn’t so lucky.”

  Somewhere in those words, every trace of good humor evaporated in the little camp. Corin felt it happen even before he saw the stormclouds in the farmboy’s eyes. For an instant he didn’t even know what he’d said wrong, but then the farmboy caught Corin’s shoulders in his strong hands and pinned him with his gaze. “He killed a man? You’re telling me he killed a man?”

  Corin licked his lips. “Oh…aye.” He could hardly reverse the claim now, so he just pressed forward. “I told you he was a madman. I thought you’d been fighting with him.”

  “We thought he was a raider! Out to steal our supplies. We never guessed he was a murderer!”

  The Wildlander snorted, but the farmboy didn’t seem to notice. His hands were trembling. “We could have stopped him. We never even tried, just scared him off. We could have stopped him, and your friend would still be alive.”

  Corin stared, baffled. He remembered the fear with which Dave Taker had described his encounters with these men, and now he learned they hadn’t even been trying to harm him. It was a terrifying thought.

  And on its heels came a terrifying action. The farmboy spun Corin around to face back the way he’d come and propelled him toward the forest path. Corin tried to plant his heels, to resist the motion, but he was helpless as a bit of driftwood on an ocean swell. “Wait!” he cried. “Where are we going?”

  “To do justice. Do you think you can find the way?”

  “What? No. I…I’m not prepared to go back there!”

  “Longbow! Will you help?”

  Instead of answering, the Wildlander dashed on ahead and disappeared into the woods. A native woodsman would have no trouble finding signs of two pirates’ tromping passage through the forest. Corin stifled a groan and tried to devise a plan.

  Behind them, Ridgemon called, “Auric, wait! I need a moment to prepare.”

  “Stay here,” the farmboy called. “All of you, stay here. This camp is still a beacon for the monsters, after all. I can handle one bloodthirsty pirate.”

  The scholar asked, “Is that wise?”

  “Don’t worry, Tesyn. I have Longbow with me. If I see Hartwin, I’ll send him back to help protect the camp.”

  “But…but…” Corin sputtered.

  “Take a deep breath, friend. I know it’s scary when you’re not used to adventure, but there’s a certain thrill you’ll learn to love. Sometimes the best choice is just to rush right in and set things right. You’ll feel better when it’s done.”

  For the first time in his life, Corin couldn’t agree with the sentiment. Right now he wanted nothing more in the world than to slow down and think things through.

  The farmboy never gave him a chance.

  Corin needed time. He had an opportunity here to lead the farmboy, Auric, back to Ezio’s trap, without having to kill anyone in their sleep, but if he arrived too soon, the trap would not be ready. He had his doubts this Auric could be anywhere near as fearsome as Taker painted him, but he was not prepared to run the risk of losing his chance at Blake. That meant Ezio had to survive and be willing still to lead Corin back to Blake.

  So Corin had to find ways to delay. Ezio had asked him to wait until nightfall. It had been an hour’s journey to the camp, and it would be at least another hour back, but still Corin needed to delay the farmboy hero for the better part of the day. But he needed to do that without giving Auric any chance to return to his camp and bring more men along.

  It was a delicate task, and one Corin was still pondering as Auric steered him back down the path toward the stream. The farmboy pointed ahead. “You came from this direction. I assume you saw our waypoints.”

  “Waypoints?”

  “Piles of stone, always with one bit of quartz to mark the way back to camp.”

  Corin shook his head. “I only saw the one. Down by the water.”

  “Oh! Right. The rest are to the west, and you said you came from the coast.”

  “Aye.” Corin spotted the wide, meandering creek ahead, and it gave him a plan. He nodded more earnestly. “Yes! Downstream from here. I told you the pirate was a fearsome man, and I had no wish for him to track me, so I waded in the riverbed. I hoped the rocky shore would hide any signs of my passage.”

  “Oh.” Auric’s eyebrows drooped and his shoulders sagged. “That was awful clever of you, but we won’t be able to follow your trail back to him. I don’t suppose you remember any details? Could you point us to his camp?”

  Corin almost grinned. “I can. But I must warn you, I took a twisting path.”

  Auric gave a laugh. “There are no other paths in these woods. That’s why they’re called the Wildlands. Lead on! Lead on!”

  Corin started east along the stream’s path and toward the distant shore, but also away from the cove down south. He felt a flash of hope, but three heartbeats later it dashed against the return of the Wildlander.

  Longbow emerged from the undergrowth opposite the stream with barely a rustle. He held a scrap of torn fabric in one hand and a broken twig in another. He called across to Auric. “I have found the path, and it offers many mysteries.”

  Auric stepped up behind Corin and clapped him on the shoulder. “No need! Our new friend remembers the way.”

  The Wildlander narrowed his eyes. “Which way is that?”

  “Back east, along the riverbed.”

  The savage shook his head. “My trail points south through jungle.”

  “Ah!” Corin said. “That must be the pirate’s doing. You said he’d visited your camp before.”

  Auric nodded. “More than once.”

  But Longbow wasn’t satisfied. “This trail was not made by one man, but two.”

  Corin licked his lips. “Did you think he was alone? Could any Godlander survive in this place on his own? He had another man with him at his camp.”

  “You have many answers,” Longbow said, his voice heavy with accusation.

  “That’s exactly why we need him,” Auric answered. “We’ve only ever seen this man when he came to raid our camp, but thi
s one has seen his base.”

  “Even so,” Corin said, “I couldn’t hope to navigate these woods the way you do. I certainly would not have spotted the pirate’s tracks. Perhaps if you scout back that way and we return the way I came, we’ll meet up at the end.”

  “And even if we don’t,” Auric added, “You’re sure to find something useful on the trail. It will be good to know more about his movements. You could even lay a snare or two, just to be safe.”

  The Wildlander opened his mouth to argue more, but Auric’s attention was already focused east again, toward the distant shore. The man was easily distracted and itching for adventure. Corin caught his arm. “I overheard him saying something to his mate about the Carnival in Nicia. Perhaps he tires of this place. If he’s returning to the Godlands, we can trust him to their authorities. Let’s just go back to camp.”

  Auric snorted his contempt. “The authorities in Ithale are barely better than he is. No. If this man has done murder right beneath my nose, then I will show him justice. Longbow! Follow that trail and discover all its secrets. I’ll see you at the other end!”

  Longbow cried, “But wait!” But he did so in vain. Auric was already dashing off along the stream’s path, anxious to join the fray. Corin dipped his head toward the noble savage, then darted to catch up with the farmboy.

  When Corin caught up with Auric, the farmboy asked, “Is Carnival far off? Do you think he’s sailing soon?”

  Corin glanced sideways and risked a bigger lie. “I’ve lost track of time, but I believe it is. Perhaps a week or two.”

  Six months might have been closer, but the Raentzman didn’t catch the lie. He groaned. “It would take that long to sail from here! He might be leaving even now.”

  “I suspect he’ll wait at least a day trying to find me. Or hoping I come back to his camp out of desperation. He seemed most anxious that I not escape.”

  “No doubt because you were a witness to his crime.”

  “Ah. That must be it.”

  “Yet we should hurry all the same. I’d hate to have him slip through my fingers.”

  Corin pressed forward and pretended to pick a path from memory. He led the farmboy for a while before his curiosity pressed him to speak. “How do you know Longbow?”

  “You remember the manticores I mentioned?”

  “How could I forget?”

  “We were hunting on the high plains and found one attacking a Wildlander village. I drove it off. The People of the Crow were quite grateful.”

  Corin remembered the raven-feather skirt. “Longbow’s one of them?”

  “He’s their Judgment. Something like a Justicar, but worse. There’s a tribal magic to it that I don’t understand, but his honor is tied to protecting his people from danger.”

  “And now he serves you out of gratitude?”

  Auric barked a laugh. “Every piece of that is wrong. No. He was furious that I stole his honor. It should have been his to kill the manticore.”

  “Oh.”

  “So he challenged me to battle.”

  “You won.”

  “I did.”

  “And now he owes his life to you?”

  “You have heard too many wild stories. No. Now he watches me. He claims he’s never met a Godlander with the wits to survive two days in these lands, let alone a whole pack of them. So he’s observing us. For the good of his tribe.”

  The farmboy spoke as though it were the simple truth—he must have believed it was—but Corin spotted several flaws in that explanation, wild stories or not. He went in silence for a moment, considering, then asked offhand, “So he’s not one of your men?”

  “I don’t have any men. I’m just a freelance looking for a name.”

  Corin frowned. “There were five men in your camp ready to kill me if you’d said the word. And when you decided I was a friend, they answered your orders. Those are your men.”

  Auric shrugged. “I don’t know. This venture was my plan, so they let me take the lead. That’s all.”

  Corin didn’t believe that for a moment, even if the farmboy did. He had a charisma Corin had seen before, a talent for leadership, and he used it without even trying. Perhaps that was how the Vestossi princess meant to use him. Or perhaps she’d been caught up in his charm as well.

  Corin shook his head. “Where in all Hurope did you get yourself a wizard?”

  “Ridgemon? He’s my brother. He met Tesyn while he was at the university, and A’Gileen was our neighbor back in Raentz.”

  “And the Dehtzlan foot soldier?”

  Auric frowned. “I…don’t remember where we picked up Hartwin. Some campaign while I was still with the regiments, I suspect.”

  “And now you’re here, a hundred leagues from civilization. Why?”

  “I told you. We’re adventurers.”

  “Is there good money in it?”

  Auric didn’t answer right away. He thought about it, and finally he shook his head. “Renown. That’s the word. Everything we do is for renown. We were nothing in the Godlands—well, except for Ridgemon, and he could only ever afford his training because of the freelance work I’d done.”

  “A noble sacrifice.”

  He shook his head. “No. That’s just it. It’s a common sacrifice. If I ever mean to change the world…If I ever mean to do anything that matters…I need a name. Can you understand that? I need a name that’s recognized through all Hurope.”

  Or only in the court at Aerome, Corin thought. A hero might be worthy of a princess’s hand, no matter where he’d been born. It was a romantic plan. There was a certain beauty to it, and for a moment Corin wrestled a pang of doubt, of guilt, at what he meant to do. This young man was not what he’d expected—not a posturing hero or a dumb Vestossi brute. He seemed brave and true, and before he’d seen his twenty summers, he already led a band of men so dedicated they would risk their lives to follow him.

  He had potential. Corin cherished that. But could Corin give up his own revenge to let the farmboy go? It seemed the honorable choice, but where was honor in a pirate’s life? Corin had a quest of his own, given him by the very maker of Hurope. He meant to cast down Ephitel, and before he could do that, he needed to answer for Ethan Blake. For his own peace of mind. If he had to sacrifice this farmboy along the way…

  He thought of Big Jack Brown, dying in the smuggler’s tavern, and he shook his head. There’d been the Nimble Fingers messenger in from Marzelle too. Francois? Aye. This wouldn’t be the first good man who’d died for Corin’s quest.

  And there was no good reason Auric had to die. After all, Corin had already convinced the other two to take him as a hostage. Once they returned to civilization, once Ezio revealed Ethan Blake’s true identity, it couldn’t be too hard a thing to help the adventurer escape. He’d proven quite resourceful on his own, and with Corin’s help it should prove a simple thing.

  That seemed a happy end to all of it, but still Corin’s stomach churned. Guilt and doubt growled inside his chest like a raging storm, and he couldn’t bring himself to banter with the other man. He went on ahead, burning daylight as he led the farmboy on a convoluted path that never quite reached the rocky shore. And then, just as the sun was setting, Corin passed beneath the shadow of a huge leaning boulder that looked a bit familiar, and there ahead was the entrance to Dave Taker’s cove. He’d arrived at last, and just in time.

  The two ships still sat moored out in the bay, and two rowboats stood beached on the sand, but no sign of Taker or Ezio. One pace closer showed him the dark form on the path. The salt sea air didn’t quite mask the sharp scent of fresh-spilled blood. Corin froze, eyes fixed on the Wildlander savage. He lay sprawled in the sand beneath the leaning stones, unmoving while his lifeblood pooled around him. His mighty bow lay broken some way off, his arrows scattered and stomped to tinder.

  He’d found them. He’d found Ezio’s ambush, and this is what Ethan Blake’s prize henchman had done. Corin shook his head. He turned away and stopped Auric with a hand o
n his chest.

  “Auric, wait,” he said. “There’s something I must tell you.”

  The farmboy frowned, confused, and then his gaze drifted past Corin and touched on the fallen savage. His face screwed up in pain and anger, and he roared his fury at the killers on the beach.

  Corin tried to restrain him. “Auric, wait! They’re expecting you!”

  But the farmboy didn’t listen. He spun past Corin and charged ahead, sword flying into his hand as he rushed toward the fallen Longbow. Corin chased after him, searching left and right for some sign of the trap that must be waiting, but he saw nothing.

  Instead, he heard an odd, familiar sound. It was a tiny pop, a little whistle, and then a little glass-and-silver dart buried itself in the farmboy’s neck. Auric gave a gentle grunt, staggered one more pace forward, and then the druids’ poison took its toll.

  He fell.

  Corin dashed forward, searching the cove’s beaches for some sign of the attacker. He prayed Fortune he’d find Aemilia, or some other druids here to intervene, to capture him. Instead he saw Dave Taker spring from behind a boulder, a cutlass in each hand, and charge toward the fallen farmboy. Ezio rose behind him, and in his hand he held one of the miniature guns the druids used.

  Of course. He worked for the Vestossis.

  Dave Taker wasn’t slowing, and Corin saw almost too late what the man intended. Corin sprinted forward, ducked his head, and met the pirate’s charge with a shoulder to his ribs. They both went sprawling in the sand, and it was all Corin could do to avoid the tumbling blades.

  He wasn’t quick enough to dodge the thrashing fists. Dave Taker clubbed him once on the back of the neck and then hit him with a hook beneath his ear that knocked him away. “What’s in your bloody head?” he shouted. “That’s a killer! That’s a monster on the sand.”

  “That’s a valuable hostage,” Ezio answered, his voice that same eerie calm. “We’ve all worked hard to capture him alive. You might count yourself lucky that my companion only hit you with his shoulder. I’ve rarely seen him exercise such cool restraint.”