Scimitar Sun

by Chris A. Jackson

The third door presented a problem, as it was beyond the mess door, which stood open. The boisterous crew’s voices were clear now, and she listened for a bit, waiting. The passage was significantly darker than the mess, which would help, but…

  At a sudden thought, she stepped back to the lamp and turned it down to a bare crescent of dim blue flame. She turned back to the door and waited for a moment, listening to the animated conversation. When someone’s tale elicited another roar of laughter, she crouched as low as possible and slipped across the wedge of light from the mess. She stood and drew a deep breath, then put her hand on the latch of the last door and turned it. It opened easily, bringing a wide smile to her lips.

  Sam slipped inside, and her delight grew. Just as she hoped, the little fire demon was in its cage. She reached for the latch, then stopped, her heart leaping into her throat at the sound of footsteps and voices in the passage outside.

  ≈

  Edan rose from the table, his bowl of stew almost empty and his stomach full to bursting. His head swam with a light blur of rum, and the corners of his mouth tugged upward in an irresistible smile.

  “Thank you for dinner, Captain,” he said, placing his tray back in the galley hatch and nodding to the cook. “It was very good.”

  “Sleep tight, lad,” the captain said with a wave of one huge hand. “We’ll be movin’ the ship inshore at first light.”

  “I’ll be ready,” he said, nodding and waving a hand. Several others were standing now, returning their trays and taking out pipes. Edan thought briefly about going up on deck to see the volcano, but thought better of it; the rum had his head buzzing, and he didn’t want to stumble and fall overboard.

  He reached his door, waved at the few calls of goodnight from the sailors, and stepped into his cabin. Everything was in place, and Flicker dozed over her low flame, stirring awake when the door thumped closed. She sat up and grinned at him, then her eyes widened and she let out a little cry of alarm, swooping into the air and fluttering around her cage, her hair flaring bright, her finger pointing over his shoulder frantically.

  “What? What are you — ”

  He turned, and stumbled back in shock when he spied the slim figure that had been hidden behind the door. His mouth opened to cry out, but the boy’s hands raised, open and empty, his eyes wide with worry, then one finger pressed to his lips. Edan’s cry of alarm stuck in his throat, replaced by instant suspicion.

  “Who — ”

  “Please, sir,” the boy whispered, taking a hesitant step forward. “Please don’t tell ‘em I’m here. I just wanted to meet you, so I snuck aboard.”

  “You wanted to meet me?” he asked in a skeptical whisper, his mind whirling in a haze of rum and questions. “Who are you, and why would you want to meet me?”

  “I work for the dwarf, Dura, in the shipyard. I saw you, and I heard you talkin’ to that other boy, Tim. I heard you were going to walk into the volcano tomorrow, and I knew this might be my only chance to meet you, so I snuck aboard.” The boy bit his lip and looked at the door worriedly. “Please don’t tell ‘em I’m here. They’ll beat me if you do!”

  “Beat you?” he said, his eyebrows knitting. “Just for sneaking aboard? Why would they do that? And why would you want to meet me?”

  “They say you’re gonna walk into the fire, that you tried to once before and that you were burned bad.” The strange boy took another step forward and pulled up his sleeve, revealing a long scar on his slim arm. “I was burned once.”

  “But…” Edan stopped as the boy began untying the laces of his shirt. “What are you — ”

  “I want to show you.” The shirt came off over his head, and Edan’s eyes widened at the broad swath of linen that wrapped his torso. Then he began unwrapping the linen, and something else became obvious. “I dress like a boy, because I’m afraid of what might happen if they found out.”

  “Found out?” Edan asked, swallowing as the last bit of linen fell away. Flicker emitted a questioning chirp, pressing forward against the bars of her cage, her hair flaring high, her eyes bright.

  “That I’m not a boy.” Then the girl’s fingers were on the laces of his shirt. “We’re alike, you and me. We’ve both been burned. We’ve both felt the fire.” Her hands explored under his shirt. They were cool on his skin, sending shivers up his spine. “We’ve both got fire in us, Edan. It’s in our veins.”

  “I, uh…” he began, but his voice faltered as her fingers deftly loosened the drawstring of his trousers.

  “I want to feel your fire, Edan,” she whispered, slipping a hand down to caress him, her lips now brushing his, her eyes wide. “I want your fire in me…”

  Edan tried to speak, tried to say something to forestall her. He didn’t even know her name. But her lips were on his, and her hands seemed to be everywhere on his skin. Then his hands were on her skin, and nothing mattered but the fire between them.

  ≈

  He slept beside her, finally.

  Sam eased slowly free of Edan’s slack embrace and out of the narrow bunk. Her feet touched the deck and her knees quaked with fatigue from her recent exertion. She slipped into her trousers and laced them, watching his breathing, wondering. She had not intended to seduce him. But, caught red-handed, she could think of nothing else to do. The result, however, had been more than she intended; it was now well into the second watch, past midnight.

  The young man was full of surprises…

  She donned her shirt, tucked it in her trousers and stuffed the rolled-up strip of linen inside. She would resume her disguise later, if she had to. If things went as planned, however…She looked back at Edan as he slept, and wondered if there was any way to save him from the coming conflagration.

  “Damn,” she muttered under her breath, pushing away the thought. She was here to kill the sea witch, and that was all. She didn’t need complications.

  Sam turned and reached up to unclasp the latch on the firesprite’s cage. She reached in and poked the little creature awake, burning her finger. The sprite let out a soft chirp but Sam had already withdrawn her hand, leaving the cage door open. She peered out into the empty passage, then slipped through and propped the cabin door open with one of Edan’s shoes. At the door to the main hold, she glanced back to see the little sprite flutter out of the room and into the hall, her fire burning brightly, her eyes alight with mischief. The sprite flew excitedly toward the aft companionway and freedom, her flaming hair fluttering in the incoming breeze.

  Sam slipped through the doorway to the hold and into her hiding place. “Burn it!” she whispered. “Burn it all!”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Firesprite

  Mouse’s eyes fluttered open at the first scent of smoke. At first, his sleepy sprite mind thought that it might be pipe smoke from the deck watch, but it didn’t smell right. Then he though about the burning mountain to windward and realized that the harsh-smelling smoke was probably brimstone or whatever they called that glowing orange stuff that burning mountains barfed up. He snuggled back into Cynthia’s pillow and was about to close his eyes again when a cry from the deck perked up his ears.

  “Hey! What’s that!”

  “It’s that little fire demon!” came another call, this one the mate’s voice raised in alarm. “Hey, stop that you little —  Fire! All hands! Fire on deck!”

  Mouse flew up and out the skylight hatch into a stream of curses from the deck watch. The two men were batting at a flaming bundle of tarred line. Another even brighter flame fluttered above them, swooping at their heads, and…giggling. Flicker!

  “EEP!” Mouse streaked forward.

  “Water! Bring buckets!” Horace roared as men poured out of the fo’c’sle hatch. They flung open the main hatch and two men jumped down. In moments, buckets of water were being passed up to the deck and their contents dashed onto the blaze before it could get out of control.

  But Flicker was still free and she flew aloft, fire streaming in her wake like a comet. She gl
anced over her shoulder at the seasprite and laughed, then landed on the foremast hounds, the supports that held the topmast upright. Flames flickered where her tiny feet danced along the tarred cordage that wrapped the ratlines, licking upward toward the furled topsail. Mouse ignored her taunts and shot aloft, snatching her arm to jerk her away from the mast. But her flesh burned his hands and, with a cry of surprise and pain, he released her. Flicker glared at him as if he was ruining her game, then darted away toward the reefed forestaysail. Mouse clutched his scorched hand to his side and flew after her.

  “The bloody mast’s afire!” he heard Feldrin’s voice boom from below. “Someone get aloft with a bucket!”

  But Mouse’s eyes were fixed on Flicker. She landed on the forestaysail, pirouetting in a tiny cyclone of flame along the bundled canvas, and it immediately started to smolder. Mouse reached for her again, but her hair flared high and he cried out in alarm as the heat singed his eyebrows. If his wings caught fire, he’d never fly again. But if the ship burned…The ship meant everything to Cynthia, and Cynthia meant everything to Mouse.

  “Stand back!” He heard her beloved voice from below, and seawater leapt from beside the ship in a geyser, dousing the ratlines and deck, extinguishing the flames there. Mouse spared a glance and saw Cynthia standing beside the port-side mainmast shrouds, a tendril of water from the scuppers wetting her feet as she brought another spout up from the sea. This one was aimed forward, right at the burning sail and Flicker.

  He cheered as water doused the flames, but his glee faded when he saw that the firesprite had evaded the spray. Her hair still blazed, and she swooped around to the starboard side, applying her fire to canvas and tarred hemp wherever she landed. Cynthia sent more water aloft, dousing the flames, but could not catch Flicker in the stream; the firesprite was just too quick.

  “I can’t get the little monster!” Cynthia cried as she cast her eyes wildly about for some other means of foiling the marauding firesprite. “Get Edan! Maybe he can call her down!”

  “Aye, I’ll get the little rat!” Feldrin shouted, cursing as he disappeared down the hatch.

  Mouse flew down and landed on Cynthia’s shoulder, clinging to her sarong amidst the spray as she chased fire after fire that sprouted in Flicker’s wake. The firesprite cried out in glee, obviously enjoying the game, while Cynthia gritted her teeth and cursed under her breath. Mouse felt helpless, cradling his burned hand; his initial heroics had faded, and he now murmured in Cynthia’s ear, trying to comfort her. Finally, he saw Feldrin hauled Edan up on deck by one arm, the young man wearing only trousers and a look of utter bewilderment.

  “Do somethin’ about that little beastie!” the captain bellowed. Edan’s eyes were so wide that Mouse though they might pop out, and he gripped the mainmast as if the ship were being tossed in a gale.

  “What do you want me to do?” he asked, his voice cracking.

  “Call her down before she burns the ship to the waterline!” Cynthia shouted as she sent another spout of water after the firesprite. “I can’t keep this up all night!”

  “She won’t listen to me. Not now. Once she gets going, she won’t listen to anyone!”

  “How in all Nine Hells did she get out?” Feldrin snapped, looming over the young man, his huge hands clenched as if strangulation would be the next step in the conversation.

  “I don’t know! I was…I mean, I was sleeping and…” Edan looked around in confusion, his eyes flicking from face to face. “I don’t remember letting her out, and even if I did, I never open the cage without putting her chain on!”

  “Her chain?” Cynthia stopped for a moment, an idea flashing into her eyes. “Her chain! Where is it, Edan?”

  “Uh…right here, I…Yes, right here!” He fished the thin golden chain out of his pocket and thrust it at her. “But how can we — ”

  “Mouse!” Cynthia barked, startling the seasprite right off her shoulder. “Mouse, you’re the only one who can do it! You’re faster than she is! You can take the chain and clasp it around her waist, then haul her down here!”

  “Eeep?” he asked skeptically, eying the chain, then Cynthia, then the swooping, burning firesprite.

  “Yes, you!” Her voice was stern, but her eyes pleaded with him as they welled with tears. He had never been able to bear her crying, even when she was a child. “You’ve got to do it, before she — ”

  “The forestays’l!” Horace cried, drawing their attention forward where the sail had burst into flames.

  “Bloody hells!” Feldrin cursed, surging forward. “Cut the halyard! Helmsman, bear off the wind!”

  Cynthia sent a spout of water shooting forward to douse the burning sail, but it had already torn from luff to leech, its charred remnants fluttering in the breeze. Sailors hauled the burnt canvas down and worked to get the outer jib aloft.

  “Mouse!” Cynthia cried again as more fires sprouted up along the tarred shrouds and stays.

  “Eeep!” Mouse tightened his belt a notch, fluttered over and snatched the gold chain from Edan’s limp fingers, grasping the clasp in one hand and letting the length of it trail out behind. He shot aloft, his gossamer-crystal wings humming like a swarm of angry hornets, trailing a stream of silvery dust in his wake. He saw her near the forward trestletrees, setting yet another blaze, and closed on her fast, but she saw him coming and streaked into the sky, trailing flames.

  Mouse shot after her, climbing then turning as she plunged back down toward the deck. Cynthia was right; he was faster. The chain dragged on him, making it difficult to maneuver, but he was gaining.

  Flicker shot down the main hatch, swooping through the passages and cabins at full speed, Mouse right behind her. But with the added weight of the chain he could not manage the corners as well as he normally would, and the seasprite careened off bulkhead after bulkhead. He followed Flicker as she shot through the door to the main hold — astonishing a dumbstruck sailor filling a bucket with water and passing close enough to singe his hair — then back out through the main cargo hatch.

  Mouse grimly flew on, gaining on his quarry, but unsure how long he could keep up the pace. She darted right and he followed. Then she reversed and shot back past him, her tinkling laughter taunting him as his outstretched fingers missed her ankle by a hair’s breadth. He turned and pursued her up the ratlines, weaving in and out of the rope steps even as they narrowed at the top.

  Suddenly, the chain jerked him back, ripping through his grip like a knife, eliciting an “EEP!” of alarm. He fluttered to a stop and looked back; the chain had snagged one of the lines. As the ship rolled, it came unwound and fell toward the water.

  “EEK!” he cried, diving for the thread of gold as it fell toward the waves. If it sank, there would be no hope to catch Flicker, and she would eventually set something on fire that even Cynthia could not put out, something like the store of fire casks stowed under the fo’c’sle.

  Mouse streaked toward the water, pushing himself as fast as he had ever gone. He felt a brief spasm of triumph as he snatched the gold chain from the air…then hit the surface at full speed.

  The impact shocked him, and for a moment he didn’t realize what had happened. He looked at his hand and sighed in relief to see the chain still firmly clasped there. Then water filled his mouth; he coughed and stared in astonishment at the bubbles rising before his face. He was a seasprite, true, but that encompassed his love for the sea and sailing — not for being underwater. He shot up and exploded from the water, coughing and sputtering and shaking water from his wings as he flew after the crazy firesprite. Now he was truly angry.

  Flicker saw him coming once again, laughed and flew back down toward the ship, evading him neatly. But Mouse had renewed energy, buoyed by his fury at the little being that would burn everything he knew and loved. He closed in behind her, and as he flew he coiled the trailing chain in his hands so that it would not become tangled again. She dove through the netting under the bowsprit and shot up the other side, but he antic
ipated the maneuver and cut her off. As the ship plunged into a cresting swell, he hit her full force, driving them both back down through the netting and into the water.

  He actually heard Flicker’s hair extinguish with a ssst, and the two of them floated together for an instant, entangled in each other’s arms, legs and wings. Then the firesprite’s eyes fluttered wide in panic. She tried to draw breath but choked on the water and began to struggle for the surface, but Mouse would not release her. Then Orin’s Pride ploughed right over them, tumbling them under her hull.

  Mouse didn’t like being underwater, but at least he knew how to act when it happened. He held on tight to both the chain and Flicker, holding his breath as they twisted and rolled until he couldn’t tell up from down. He blinked as the turbulence subsided, and looked around. It was dark, as dark as the inside of a boot stuffed into the bottom of a sea chest in the bilge of a sinking ship (what an adventure that had been!), and Flicker was limp in his arms. He clasped the chain around her waist and tried to figure out which way was up. He was running out of air, but there was no moon, and he couldn’t distinguish the starlight from the shimmer of phosphorescence that glowed in the ship’s wake.

  Then Flicker convulsed, coughing out a bubble, and he realized that bubbles were the answer. He blew out a stream of bubbles and followed them up, bursting from the surface in a spray of seawater and stardust. He soared aloft with Flicker in his arms. His fury melted when he looked at her waterlogged body. Her hair was gone, her flame extinguished, and her wings were like limp black spider webs, her gossamer-smoke washed away by the sea.

  “Eep?” he asked, but she did not respond.

  He flew back to the ship, hoping she wasn’t completely drowned. He kind of liked her when she wasn’t trying to burn everything up.

  ≈

  “Flicker!” Edan cried as Mouse deposited her on the deck before them. “Oh gods, he’s drowned her!”

  “Better her than us,” Feldrin said, muttering a curse. “Bloody beastie near burnt my ship! I’d squash her meself if I — ”