The Wrath of a Shipless Pirate (The Godlanders War)

by Aaron Pogue

  “I will not live like that!”

  “Then you will die like that,” Corin said. “That’s my promise to you. The princess…she only threatens to testify. But I am not so subtle. If I find you have betrayed the terms of this agreement—ever, anywhere—then I will hunt you down and kill you.”

  “You wouldn’t.”

  “I would. I should really do it now, but the princess has inspired in me a new faith in humanity. I’ll give you a chance. One chance. Don’t test me.”

  Blake hung his head in mock repentance, though Corin didn’t buy it for a moment. “I thank you, then, for this small mercy. I do accept your terms. And cousin…” He turned to Aemilia. She straightened her spine and stared down her nose at him, playing her part beautifully. Corin had to admire it.

  But that distracted him a heartbeat too long. Blake moved like a serpent, darting forward, and in the blink of an eye he held a dagger in one hand and Aemilia’s slender throat in the other. Corin drew as well, Godslayer in his hand like lightning, but Blake pulled Aemilia tight against him, shielding his body with hers, and backed slowly toward the other wall.

  “I’ll kill her, Corin. I’ll kill her and then blame you. Who would doubt my word? Oh, it’s almost perfect that you brought her here!” A madness flashed in Blake’s eyes, and Corin saw his knuckles go white around the dagger’s hilt. Blake meant to kill her, here and now. He was already past considering it and ready to commit the act.

  Then time froze around him. It was not the strange gray mist of Oberon’s magic, but that simple, sharp clarity that sometimes arrives like inspiration. He met the druid’s eyes and showed her a little smile for courage and shouted, “Dart him and duck away.”

  Blake heard the words, but he couldn’t comprehend. Aemilia did. She didn’t hesitate. She pressed the muzzles of both dartguns against his abdomen behind her, and pulled the triggers. His eyes went wide. He convulsed, though it might as likely have been from surprise at the tiny stab of the darts as from any action of the druids’ poison.

  It didn’t matter. It bought her time enough to wrench away from him, and even as she fell, Corin lunged. The legendary sword pierced Ethan Blake between the ribs. He stood a moment, stunned, then toppled slowly back.

  And out the open window.

  He landed with a crunch.

  A moment later, Aemilia joined Corin at the window. For a while, they both stared down in silence. It was Aemilia who broke it.

  “You killed him,” she said, stunned.

  “I’d do it again.”

  She turned to Corin, eyes wide. “What will we do?”

  Before Corin could answer her, a startled gasp from by the doorway caught his attention. He spun around, sword lashing out, but he stopped it short when he recognized the new arrival.

  Iryana. She stood there in her ball gown, draped in gold, lovely as a sunset. “Corin,” she said, strangely calm. “I see you found your princess.”

  Corin had to bite back a curse. For a moment he wished the druid had thought to drop her glamour. Or better, to resume the appearance of the serving girl. Instead, her disguise only placed the princess in greater danger.

  Iryana could not have mistaken what had happened here. It was Blake’s own office, and Corin’s blade still dripped with the man’s blood. But Iryana contained whatever grief she felt at Blake’s demise. She stood tall, shoulders straight, eyes hard.

  “I did not believe you’d succeed here, Corin.”

  “Aye.”

  “You are…something more than a man.” She shook her head. “You are something…extraordinary.”

  He grinned. “You’re not the first to say that.”

  She came a step closer, no seduction in her expression, but a simple plea. “I find myself again in need of a protector.” She cast a glance toward the princess and instantly dismissed her. “And you will need some aid to escape this situation. Perhaps…perhaps we might…”

  He shook his head. “Alas. I have been made a better offer. But you can tell them it was me who killed him.”

  Her jaw dropped. “They’ll come after you with everything they have.”

  Corin shrugged. “I’m looking forward to the reputation. But…if you don’t want them suspecting you, you should probably start screaming now.”

  She was never short on wits. He had to give her that. She raised a fearsome cry, and in a moment there were guards outside the door. Corin heard more coming from far off, stomping up the stairs or shouting out on the wide, lovely lawn. Those who had patrolled the halls up here were already crowding into the room, already lowering their crossbows.

  Corin spun, cloak flaring, and caught Aemilia in his arms. Then he closed his eyes and stepped through dream, and they were gone.

  They appeared together in Corin’s rooms at the tavern. Corin opened his eyes, and his gaze went to the window. It was night outside, but which night?

  Corin’s heart still hammered in his chest. Blake was dead. Corin had seen the man dead on his father’s lawn. He’d expected the sight to bring relief, but his jaw still clenched tight. His breath felt too thin. Too short.

  “I won,” Corin said, his voice weak. “Didn’t I?”

  Aemilia still clutched him, eyes squeezed shut, but when he spoke, she finally looked. Then she gasped and pulled away. “Corin Hugh! You can’t just tear a path through causality like that!”

  Her misplaced outrage pushed his fear aside for a moment. He smiled at her. “I saved our lives. You realize that, don’t you?”

  “Well…yes…” she said, flustered for a moment, but then she shook her head. “You still should show some care.”

  She dug some strange druid device from an inner pocket—something like a silvered hand-mirror, but foreign glyphs danced across its surface, ever changing. She stared for a moment, tapped the device’s face with one finger, and then stared some more. At last, she shook her head. “The damage seems fairly benign. Something like ninety minutes at the epicenter with a falloff of six to eight minutes per mile.”

  Most of it sounded like gibberish to Corin, but one phrase stuck out at him. “Per mile? From Blake’s house? That would cover most of the city.”

  She nodded a little fiercely. “I’ve been trying to tell you: this thing you do is dangerous.”

  “I know it cost me time. But…what really happened?”

  “Time skipped. Just as it does for you.”

  He rushed to the window again, staring out. He listened for a moment, then shook his head. “I’d expect an uproar. Riots in the streets. A whole city full of people just lost an hour of their lives—” He cut off short when he saw Aemilia shaking her head.

  “It’s not like that. Not for them. They didn’t step through dream. The dream rolled right on for them, filling in the gaps. Most of them will feel like they’ve been operating on autopilot, like they’ve been walking in a daze. Their memories of the affected time period will be hazy, especially their specific decisions, but they’ll put it all down to distraction, forgetfulness.”

  He sank down on the edge of the bed. “Gods’ blood. What have I been doing?”

  She came to him, settling beside him. Her voice was gentle. “This is what I’ve been trying to tell you. You’ve been meddling in people’s lives. Tonight…it’s not so bad. Half an hour here or there, especially when it’s late enough that most decent folk are sleeping. They’ll never know.”

  He sighed. “I’ve been reckless with a lot of lives, Aemilia.”

  “You have. And you’ve been lucky. You left a righteous mess behind you in Khera.”

  He groaned and fell backward on the bed.

  She laughed. “I’m pleased to see you’re taking this seriously at last, but it’s not so bad as that. The dream has fixed everything you’ve broken so far. If you will just restrain yourself in future—”

  He shook his head. Bile burned in his gut as he remembered the fear he’d pressed aside before. “I’ve done worse than stretching time.”

  She did not deny i
t. She swallowed hard, and still a stammer touched her voice. “O-only what you had to do.”

  “I don’t mean Blake. That man deserved to die. I mean the innocent people I roped into my schemes. Ben Strunk—”

  “Ben Strunk is fine! He’s probably still drinking and seducing serving girls.”

  She was probably right, but Ben was not the one who would hurt the worst. Corin continued as though she hadn’t interrupted. “Princess Sera too.”

  “You did destroy the letter.”

  “I did, but she might still be in the grasp of Blake’s people. Will they wait for his order or kill her at dawn? How will they react when they hear she is dead?”

  “Don’t you trust the Nimble Fingers? They were going after her.”

  Corin sighed. “Even if they rescued her, Iryana and a dozen guards think they saw her at the scene of Blake’s execution. They saw her leave with me.”

  He heaved himself up so he could meet her eyes. “And Princess Sera isn’t the last. There’s also you.”

  She shook her head, trying to dismiss his concern, but she put no words to it. He bit his lip and tried to slow the hammering of his heart. What would he do if some harm came to her over this? To either of the women? How could he possibly protect them? Worry clawed at the back of his breastbone, and he heaved a weary sigh. “What will I do?”

  Aemilia took his hand in hers. “You’ve done so well so far. You’ll think of something.”

  “No. This…this is beyond me. I don’t believe I’ve ever used an innocent person in my schemes before. If she pays for my sins…” He squeezed the druid’s hand, feeling wretched. “If you do…”

  “Would you have done anything different?” she asked. “You went after Blake to protect the innocent people he could have hurt. Surely you—”

  She cut off short as the door burst open. In the blink of an eye, Corin leaped to his feet and drew the sword, Godslayer, blade flashing out to stop this new intruder.

  But the sword’s tip flew two hands too high. The intruder was a dwarf.

  Ben Strunk blinked in surprise. He held a fat, unstoppered wine bottle in one hand and led a pretty young serving maid in Vestossi colors by the other. He hesitated a moment, swaying slightly, then lifted the bottle and used it to push Corin’s blade aside. He licked his lips, thinking, and a long moment passed in total silence. The serving girl just stared with eyes wide.

  Then Ben Strunk’s face lit up. He threw his arms wide. “Corin! I knew that you were still alive! I had this feeling, see, and thought, ‘We ought to check on Corin’s rooms.’ And that’s why…that’s the only reason we’re…” He trailed off in the face of Corin’s smirk.

  Corin nodded to the serving girl. “I can guess what you were feeling, Ben.”

  “Ah, well…”

  “Forget it,” Corin said, sheathing his sword. “In truth, I’m glad to see you escaped the Vestossis’ grasp. It does somewhat complicate things that you brought one of their attendants to my hiding place.”

  “She’ll never tell,” Ben said, tossing the girl an adoring smile. “She’s seen their villainy. All her sympathies are with the princess.”

  Corin quirked an eyebrow. “Are they?”

  “Oh, aye! Once I told her how poor Sera had been misused, and all the secret, heroic things I’ve done…well, her heart was won.”

  Corin felt a flash of irritation at the dwarf, but it came closely paired with amusement. He hid it all in a polite bow of his head toward the girl. “Your loyalty does you great honor. Will you serve your queen now? I have a favor to ask on her behalf.”

  The girl’s eyes shot wider still, and she bobbed a frantic nod. “Oh, certainly, Lord Hugh! However I can help.”

  Lord Hugh. Corin bit his tongue for a moment, before he could trust himself to speak. Then he tried for an air of authority. “Slip downstairs and search out the inn’s proprietor. Tell him I have need of him and then return here straightaway. Do you understand?”

  She nodded once.

  “Good. Then go.”

  She slipped off down the hall, and Ben watched her leave with a wistful look in his eyes. “Such a brave lass…”

  Corin shook his head. “You’re three times a fool, Ben Strunk. But I spoke true before. It does my heart good to see you alive and well. Thank you for your aid tonight.”

  Ben grinned. “I’ve found reward enough—and scant risk, really. They never suspected me. I’m just some drunken dwarf. But you? They want you with a passion, Corin.”

  Corin licked his lips, trying hard not to look at Aemilia. “Just me?”

  “Hah! Not a chance.” The dwarf’s expression turned grim. “They want the princess too. Your druid played her part; no one doubts that it was Sera in the room.”

  Corin cursed, though he felt a guilty spark of relief too. At least Aemilia was safe. But Sera…He’d used her well, and now she’d pay the price unless he found some way out. It had seemed so easy back in Blake’s study, when he’d wrapped one arm around Aemilia and escaped through the dream, but now…

  He hesitated, the memory strong in his mind. With all the Vestossis’ guards crowding into the room, Corin had grabbed the princess and disappeared. He considered how that must have looked to all the witnesses, and some of the tension left his shoulders. He grinned. “I have a plan.”

  Ben’s eyebrows lifted. “Oh? It had better be a good one.”

  “It depends entirely on your wit and charm, my friend.”

  Ben barked a laugh. “Then it’s a sure thing. Speak! What’s on your mind?”

  “A rumor,” Corin said. “They saw the princess in the room, but she made no admissions. She had no blood on her hands. What else did they see? A pirate, a wanted man, who grabbed the princess and whisked her away.”

  “Aye. Some say you are a wizard now. Wiser heads suspect you must have stolen some major artifact—”

  “That’s good,” Corin said. “Do what you can to strengthen that belief. But I’m more concerned with Sera. What reason do they have to think she was at fault? We must convince them she was a bystander. I stole her as a hostage.”

  Ben whistled softly. “You’ll have to send them some demands, pretend to negotiate a bit.”

  “That’s not so hard. And it will throw them off my trail, confuse them while I put my true plans in motion.”

  “Clever. Clever. If you can spin it out a week or two, keep the princess hidden, then give her back—”

  Corin clapped his hands together at a flash of inspiration. “No! I’ll drop some hint, pretend to make a slip, and let them discover where I’ve hidden her. It’ll look like I just barely escaped, and they can throw themselves a feast to celebrate their victory.”

  Ben chuckled. “You’re a conniving devil, Corin Hugh. Shift their focus to the girl—to rescuing the girl—and in one move you’ll clear her name and make them forget your greater crime.”

  “Perhaps,” Corin said, but already his elation began to fade. “There is one problem.”

  “Just one?” Aemilia asked, incredulous.

  Corin shrugged. “One at a time, then. The first is quite a large one. I don’t have the princess. Last I heard, the best of the Nimble Fingers were setting out to rescue her, but—”

  Ben cut him off with a wave. “That one’s not so hard at all. They found her, Corin. Thanks to you. And where do you think they brought her?”

  Corin licked his lips. Ben’s grin suggested she was here, but he couldn’t make himself believe it. He offered the more likely answer. “To the palace?”

  “What? With family still set against her? She knew about Blake’s plan, about the letter. Old della Porta wanted to hide her somewhere safe until he could discover all the details.”

  “Here?” Corin asked, his heart beating faster. “She’s here at the tavern?”

  “Just down the hall.”

  “Then get her! Bring her to me. We’ll need her aid to pull it off. Fortune favor, we might just get away with this.”

  Ben nodded, bea
ming, then slipped off down the corridor, opposite the way the serving girl had gone. Corin watched a moment, biting his lip, and then at last he turned back to Aemilia. His heart felt almost light, but a cloud of worry still darkened her eyes.

  He went to her. “We’ll go away. We’ll take Sera and hide among the druids. We’re going to escape. We’ve done it.”

  But Aemilia shook her head. “It’s not that simple. You killed a Vestossi.”

  Corin sighed. “I know, I know. A thousand men have warned me already, and Blake among them. The Vestossis won’t let this go unpunished. But that is where I can succeed. Trust in me. I’ve spent my whole life staying out of their grip.”

  She stared into his eyes a moment. Then she sighed. “If only that were all you had to fear.”

  He blinked. “What else is there?”

  “Ephitel.”

  The name alone brought all his fear crashing back. It wrapped around his gut like a fist and squeezed. Corin swallowed hard and only managed to answer, “Oh.”

  She nodded. “Your ruse with the princess might distract her family, but Ephitel will not forget you’ve wronged him. You slaughtered one of his protected and defied his power.”

  Corin summoned up his courage. When he found it lacking, he summoned up some false bravado to fill the gaps. “I’ve not forgotten Ephitel. He’s the next one on my list.”

  She clenched her jaw. “This is no joke. It’s not some grand adventure. You murdered a Vestossi in his house!”

  “I call it a good start.”

  “You’ll have the gods set against you, Corin. Not just the Vestossis. Not just Ephitel. All the gods and all their armies. What will you do? What will we do?”

  He held her gaze a moment, then quirked one eyebrow. “You made me a promise once before. You said you’d go wherever I had to go. Whatever I endured, you’d be there with me.”

  “I remember.”

  He licked his lips. “I’ll release you from that promise if you ask it of me.”

  “I wouldn’t let you.”

  He found his courage, then. It was hiding somewhere deep in her dark eyes, but as he stared into them, he knew what must be done. He showed her a grin. “Then we’ll do what the princess and the farmboy wanted to. We’ll run away. We’ll find someplace our own, where the Vestossis cannot reach us. And then we’ll do what they never could have done.”