Victoria was leaning over the edge and dry heaving. He slid over a few steps and placed a caring hand on her shoulder. She glanced up long enough to convey, emphatically, that it was his fault. Her cheeks appeared sunken and there were dark circles under her large eyes. He wanted to hold her until it ended, but barely even dared the thought in her current condition.
“Hector says this will pass,” Angst said in his softest voice.
“Dallow is mixing something,” Tori rasped. “And then I’ll sleep.”
“Assuming you can even swallow it,” Angst said.
Her cheeks puffed out at the word swallow, and she was once again over the railing.
“Sorry,” Angst said, trying to hold her hair back.
“Do you enjoy watching me vomit?” she finally asked, spitting out bile and waving him off.
He stepped away helplessly, at a complete loss for what to do.
“Figure out how to get us there faster, and get me off this boat!” Her voice was scratchy, and she seemed short of breath. “Go! Take your armor off and get to it!”
“Are you even listening?” Jarblech asked, her temper building with every word.
“Yes,” Angst lied. “Of course I was...am.”
“Dallow gave up hours ago,” she said sharply. “It was impressive how much he knew, and how stupid you are.”
“It’s always impressive how much Dallow knows,” Angst said with raised eyebrows, ignoring the slight.
“Hector said it would take a woman,” she said. “That you wouldn’t listen to anyone else.”
He nodded attentively from his perch on the stairs leading up to the top deck, staring off at the distant storm clouds. Something nagged in the back of his mind; the clouds looked unnatural. They were bigger than he was used to seeing, and spun like a top. Maybe it was just the way storms formed in the ocean. He sought Dulgirgraut for information, who offered nothing, merely hovering and glowing like a giant, useless candle. He was tempted to leave it on the ship for decoration. It flashed once, making nearby pirates jump, but there was no answer, not even a song.
“Then what did I say?” she prodded, digging under her do-rag with a finger.
“It was about moving the boat in waves,” Angst said dismissively. “Ouch!”
She’d smacked the back of his head, again.
“You know, that really doesn’t help me remember,” he grunted. “Even my mother didn’t smack me like that.”
“She should have,” Jarblech groused. “That poor woman.”
Her head covering was now on the ground, its removal releasing such a tangled mass of gray, oily curls that Angst feared they were alive. He stood quickly and scrambled back as she lowered her head and proceeded to scratch. The gentle wind raked through her coils of hair, rocking them like wind chimes. Angst tried looking away, but was mesmerized by the sheen and movement, as if each follicle of hair fought to escape, seeking freedom from its tyrannical owner. He reached out to poke a particularly threatening appendage, wondering if it would recoil or eat his fingernail.
“What?” she asked, glancing up at his finger.
“I, uh...” he hedged. “Nothing, nothing at all.”
“Go on,” she prodded.
“Do you wash it?” he asked.
“Wash it? Of course not!” She seemed offended at the suggestion. “Natural oils keep your hair healthy. You don’t see any bald spots on this head!”
“Well, that much is true,” he agreed and then chuckled. “Certainly not like Hector.”
“I wasn’t talking about Hector,” she said with a raised eyebrow.
“I don’t have any bald spots!” Angst retorted, instinctively reaching up to his full head of peppered gray hair.
“No, of course not,” she mocked. “We aren’t getting anywhere, are we?”
“I’m pretty sure I could still spin the boat in circles,” he said, still testing the thickness of the hair on his crown, undecided if he could feel hair or skin. He was sure it was hair.
Shaking her head, Jarblech led him to the helm. Tamara stood at the wheel, staring off at the distant sea. Her back was arched proudly. She wore silk pantaloons tucked into black knee-high boots. Her linen pirate shirt was open well below her small breasts, held tight by the blue sash around her waist. Her black skin glistened from sweat or sea, and she looked satisfied, as though she truly enjoyed what she was doing. Angst really liked this. It felt like she’d found her thing. So few in the world did what they loved or loved what they did, and he envied the younger woman.
“You’re familiar with Tamara,” she said wryly. “She’s better at the helm than anyone.”
“So I’ve noticed,” he said, winking at the young woman.
Tamara’s thin lips smiled as broadly as Jarblech’s growing frown.
“Think you can teach this one enough to keep us afloat?” Jarblech asked Tamara.
“Yes, Captain,” Tamara replied crisply, her face sincere and her shoulders back.
“Can you pay attention to her long enough to learn something?” she asked Angst, poking him in the chest firmly.
“If you promise to put your hair away,” he taunted. “It’s more frightening than that storm.”
“Ha!” she said, tossing her hair in his direction like a dog shaking out water. “My hair is glorious, and that little storm is nothing, landie. Now learn fast so you can push my schooner through that wittle stowm safely and I can get you off it...her...ugh!” She grabbed her kerchief and marched away.
“I think she’s planning to kill me in my sleep,” Angst said, crossing his arms.
“Are you kidding?” Tamara leaned against the wheel. “I think she’s really taken to you!”
“No, no, no!” Jarblech roared, fighting her way up steps with her stubby legs.
“Oh, what now?” Angst frowned. “It’s only been fifteen minutes.”
“How can she possibly teach you anything when she’s giggling like that?” Spittle from Jarblech’s lips flecked onto Angst’s chest. She turned to Tamara with an intense glare. “Pirates don’t giggle!”
“Yes, Captain!” Tamara said, standing to attention while fighting back a smile.
Jarblech grimaced at both of them before spinning on her heel. The helmswoman giggled before Jarblech had even taken a step. The pirate captain spun about to see the young woman stepping away from Angst, gripping her side as if poked.
“She’s an excellent instructor,” Angst said, quickly pulling his arms behind his back. “I’m sure I’ll understand how to boat in no time.”
“How...to...boat?” Jarblech said in disbelief, carefully articulating the words. “We don’t have time for this...this nonsense.”
“That’s stern and aft and port and starboard,” he said hastily, pointing in each direction. “And those are masts. See? Learning.”
Jarblech shook her head and Tamara was losing a battle with laughter. He crossed his hands in opposite directions. “I mean port and starboard are the other directions.”
Jarblech peered back and forth between them, both smirking like children getting away with something. “I’m calling in reinforcements.”
“But, he’s learning, Captain!” Tamara said defensively.
“Henrecht won’t put up with any of this nonsense,” she snapped.
Tamara frowned as the tallest woman Angst had ever seen south of Nordruaut approached. Was she the bodyguard that had stood behind Jarblech during the poker match? Her attire was similar to Tamara’s, but her pants and leggings were different shades of purple. Angst could make out broad shoulders and strong muscles beneath her pirate garb. A dark bandana wrapped around her short red hair neatly, and an enormous scimitar hung from her waist. Neither her mouth nor her eyes smiled as she took position behind Tamara with crossed arms. Angst smirked and raised an eyebrow, but Henrecht stared on coolly.
“Finally,” Jarblech said with a sigh. “The moment he becomes distracted, break him in half.”
“Yes, Captain.” Henrecht nodded cu
rtly, her voice husky and sincere.
Jarblech looked at each of them and nodded as if finally accomplishing something. She approached the stairs but jerked to a stop when Henrecht giggled. The captain’s head hung low as she slowly walked away in defeat.
“Captain!” Tamara called out as Falcon jutted forward.
“What’s this?” Jarblech asked, holding up a finger to check the wind.
“It’s not natural, Captain,” Tamara said, letting go of the wheel and hugging herself. “Look at the sails!”
The flax cloth of the sail billowed in the wrong direction as the ship picked up speed.
“Drop them!” Jarblech yelled. “Bring in the sails, now!”
Pirates around the ship scrambled to lower sail as Hector, Tarness, and Dallow made their way back up to the deck.
“We’re moving!” Hector said before frowning at her angry demeanor. “Hey, what’s wrong?”
“Where is he?” Jarblech demanded. “I want him on deck now!”
“He wasn’t below,” Tarness said, his thick eyebrows frowning. “I can’t imagine he fell in.”
“He should,” she said. “Moving at this speed without warning. He could’ve snapped a mast.”
“Dallow, anything?” Hector asked.
“Nothing I can see on deck, or floating in the water,” Dallow called out, one hand pressed firmly to his temple. “Just a large fish or dolphin really near the port side, it’s hard to make out.”
“Dolphin?” Tamara questioned. “This time of year?”
“Shush, everyone.” Hector raised a hand. “This way.”
He led them down the stairs to the left side of the ship. Water sloshed noisily against the ship. Sniffing the air for direction, he faced port, inching forward. The splashing became louder and water reached the deck as the ship continued to speed up. Hector broached the railing and leaned over, Tarness and Jarblech practically perched on each shoulder. He paused, worried at what he might find until they heard Angst laugh.
“What in the...?” Jarblech’s jaw dropped.
Angst rested in a makeshift hammock that hovered inches over the ocean. A beautiful blue-haired mermaid clung to his arm, smiling and nodding, her great fin splashing in the wake. She glanced up in shock, her eyes wide and lips pursed. She kissed Angst on the cheek then fell away into the dark ocean. Angst was still laughing as they dragged him back up on deck, wiping tears from his eyes.
“I don’t remember the last time I laughed like that,” he said, catching his breath. “She is hilarious.”
“What is it with you?” Jarblech began inspecting him, rubbing at the spot where Moyra had kissed him. “I don’t see blood.”
“What? Of course not.” Angst calmed himself. “She’s a friend.”
“She’s a monster,” Jarblech snapped. “Those things kill pirates.”
“And pirates kill them, right?” Angst said, his voice becoming darker.
“You would choose one of them over one of mine?” Jarblech thumbed her chest.
“No,” he said firmly. “I would choose everyone.”
Hector placed a calming hand on Angst’s shoulder, which Angst jerked away.
“You can thank her later,” Angst said.
“Thank her for what?” Jarblech asked.
Angst walked to the middle of the ship and held out both hands. His eyes glowed red and a bright blue hue hovered about his arms as the ship raced forward even faster.
“Which way, Captain?” he asked.
“She...she taught you this?” Jarblech was stunned. “How?”
“She knows the water better than anyone.” Angst nodded with a broad smile. “I guess you owe her your thanks.”
“I hate owing,” she said, spitting on the deck. “Pilot, call out directions for the landie.”
“Left, landie,” Tamara shouted. “About five degrees.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Angst said brightly as the boat gently shifted direction.
Jarblech peered over the railing. She shook her head at the distant form of a blue woman with a long tail diving in and out of their wake.
“What is it?” Hector asked quietly.
“Angst should be dead,” she whispered gruffly. “Mermaids don’t make humans friends. Ever. Humans, especially men, are food.”
“Angst has a way with women.” Hector rubbed a thumb along his scar.
“I’ve noticed,” she said. “But this is different. They are different, Hector. They aren’t human. Something about this isn’t right.”
“I’ll add it to the list,” Hector said with a frown.
28
Unsel
Wilfred sank lower into his chair, surprised to find he longed to be back in the basement cursing his life as a paper shuffler. He had come to the war room expecting to see the long wood table filled with generals and advisors. Instead, the war in this room was between two people. At one end of the table sat Alloria, looking emotionally and physically deflated. Her cheeks were sunken, the sparkle in her eyes had dimmed, and he couldn’t help but notice that her breasts appeared smaller. Maybe it was her ultra-conservative pale green dress that fit snug from waist to neck. More than likely, it was the heavy cost of leadership during trying times.
At the other end of the table, Vars hunched over, appearing, for once, as old as he was. He wore a simple gray tunic and leggings, and his slouching shoulders no longer seemed strong enough to hold his armor up. His hands shook, and he refused to make eye contact with either of them. Wilfred sat in the middle. Judge. Referee. Negotiator.
In spite of their haggard appearance and tired demeanor, every word brimmed with vitriol and bitterness. What should’ve been a brainstorming session to save Unsel felt more like divorce proceedings. At first, he’d compared their fight to two cats battling over territory, but after the longest hour of his life, he’d decided that neither had the finesse of a cat. This was more like two ducks bobbing in a lake for the same piece of bread.
“Stop, please,” Wilfred said, wondering if his head would still be attached after the interruption.
They did, undoubtedly more out of shock than respect, looking up from the table in surprised wonder.
“No disrespect intended,” he continued. “But why am I here?”
“I couldn’t agree more,” Vars said in a gravelly voice.
“See?” Alloria said, crossing her arms. “He’s the reason we can’t get anything accomplished.”
“Your Majesty, Captain Guard,” he nodded at each in turn, “we have one week to implement some sort of defense, or evacuate the city. I would highly recommend doing both. Vars, you need to gather every general and get them on board with a plan to defend this city. Your Majesty, bring in the rest of Isabelle’s advisors to coordinate an evacuation.”
“All she thinks about is her coronation,” Vars snapped.
“And he won’t obey a single order,” she said, setting both palms on the table and leaning forward.
“You don’t take any of my advice. You should be drawing from my experience,” Vars replied. “That’s why we were paired.”
Wilfred tilted his head in confusion at this, giving Alloria a questioning look that she ignored. “Stop,” he said again. He sighed deeply and did his best to sit upright. “Have any preparations been made, at all, to evacuate the city?”
“There’s no need to evacuate,” Alloria stated. “We’ll mount a defense to keep Unsel safe.”
“This we can agree on.” Vars nodded curtly. “I’ll have enough soldiers here within the week to handle anything that comes at us.”
“Okay,” Wilfred said, drawing out the word. “Have you worked out the magic problem?”
“The problem’s been eliminated,” Vars said, his lip curling into a sneer. “The wielders have left Unsel.”
“That very well could be the problem.” Wilfred shook his head. “The gargoyle creatures can’t be harmed by anything but magic.”
“We don’t know that for a fact,” Vars disagreed.
“But the hundred soldiers that died from the last attack,” Wilfred said, “it’s my understanding they couldn’t even defend themselves.”
“There simply weren’t enough,” Vars stated. “With more soldiers—”
“We’ll have a bigger pile of dead bodies,” Alloria interjected. “Which is exactly why we need Angst.”
Vars’s jaw set and his cheeks reddened. Wilfred’s turned about to see if she really meant what she’d said. Her arms were crossed, and her gaze unflinching. Apparently Angst was her white knight.
“Are you aware of what happened at Melkier?” Wilfred asked. “Angst was last spotted fighting dragons in Melkier right before most of the city was destroyed by a giant fireball. Even if he did survive, there’s no telling where he is now.”
“I believe in him,” Alloria said quietly.
Wilfred looked at the queen regent and had to remember how young she was. Whatever relationship Angst had with this young woman had provided her with an unrealistic hope that would need to be handled delicately. Added to that, the hate seething from Vars at the very mention of Angst’s name made this conversation a treacherous walk on a thin rope over a raging fire.
“I believe in Angst too, Your Majesty,” Wilfred said, ignoring Vars’s scoff. “With all that’s happening in Ehrde, it’s more than possible he’ll come flying in to save the day. But, it’s our job to plan for all possibilities, not just the ones we want to happen.”
Both Queen Regent and Captain Guard nodded slowly, reluctantly, and Wilfred smiled at the baby step. There was still time to save the people of Unsel; there had to be.
“What would you advise?” Vars said stoically.
“We announce Her Majesty’s coronation in thirty days,” Wilfred began. He held out a hand to quiet her protest. “There isn’t time to properly plan and execute this otherwise, Your Highness. In addition, telling the people of Unsel that we’re scheduling this in thirty days gives them time to mourn their queen but also says that we expect to survive this crisis.”
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