Andalon Arises

by T B Phillips

  “You wouldn’t.”

  “Yes. I would. Do you want to check this man’s story out or not?”

  “Aye.” Peter reluctantly turned and followed as she stormed toward the main entrance. Jon followed, loosening the clasp that held his sword.

  The house security asked again, “May we help you?”

  Alec glanced at the woman from the pantry. She stood behind the guards beaming with smug satisfaction as if she had already beaten him. “I need to see the lord of the manor.”

  “That isn’t likely to happen ever. Tell us why you are here.”

  “That’s our business,” Marita shouted up at him defiantly, then turned to Alec and smiled, sticking her thumb into the air.

  “You mean pirate business?” The older of the two men laughed.

  The girl answered, “As a matter of fact, yes. And you’d best let us inside to see the lord if you know what’s good for you.”

  “Marita,” Alec cautioned, “I can handle this.” To the guards he insisted. “This can all be cleared up as soon as I speak with Lord Valencia. I bring a gift from Braen Braston, leader of Pirate’s Cove.”

  “The prince of Fjorik? Now we know you’re lying. Lord Stefan Nevra leads The Cove, last we heard.”

  “He doesn’t any longer. Please, may I have five minutes of Valencia’s time? We’ve come a long way.”

  “No,” the older man replied, “you’ll be coming with us for further questioning. Of course, we’re really busy tonight, so we’ll get around to our questions in a few days if you’re lucky.”

  “I don’t have time for this.” Alec placed his hand on the pommel of one of his swords. Miss Pritchett screamed, “He’s drawing down!”

  Both guards drew their own and Alec froze in place. “Easy now! There’s no need for anyone to get hurt!” He raised his hands with palms out to show that he did not want a fight.

  “That sounds like a threat. You’ll be lucky if we don’t just run you through and save the questioning.”

  Shouting from the visitor tents caused everyone to pause. Then northern horns of war blasted loudly from the tent city.

  “The longboat,” Alec exclaimed.

  The woman blanched, “What are you talking about? What longboat?” Then she had a thought. “Did Braston send you to distract us while his men attack the manor?”

  “No!” Alec shook his head in frustration. “When we were coming up the road, we saw a longboat rounding the bend. If they’re attacking, then it’s Skander Braston, not Braen.” The shouting intensified and quickly turned into screams of pain. Soon steel rang against steel on the other side of the manor. “We have to aid them!”

  “Petr,” the younger guard said nervously, “It’s started early. We need to get into position!”

  The older guard advanced, “You won’t be aiding anything!” He lunged forward with his sword swung high and arcing downward.

  Alec reacted on instinct, drawing his blade from his left hip and raising it with a high parry. The man pressed forward, moving in too close for the sword master to draw his second blade. Pogue pleaded, “Stop!” But the second sentry rushed forward with his own sword, swinging it low and slicing through a tendon. The captain groaned as he crumpled to his knees, with one sword drawn and the other still at his side.

  A rush of wind blew from the south, blasting the attackers backward. The fat woman toppled over as well. With skirts over her head, she fell into a heap of petticoats. “No,” Alec tried to scream to Marita, but she was already moving toward the men. With a single motion, she drew the sword from Pogue’s belt, holding her hand out for his primary. He shook his head defiantly, “Don’t do it, Marita! You don’t have to.”

  “Nobody fucks with my family,” was her reply as she lashed his sword with tendrils of air. It ripped from Alec’s hand and flew into hers as she moved between her adoptive father and the attackers.

  Marita set her feet and balanced into a stance she called ‘shit in your britches.’ She had learned it by watching Alec and Amash. She did not know the correct term and coined the name because they looked to her like they were dumping in their pants. They had never noticed the close attention she had paid to their many hours of practice. They also failed to realize that the girl had picked up a few skills on her own.

  Both of Alec’s attackers scrambled to their feet and held their swords at the ready, unsure whether they should charge the young girl. She never gave them a chance to make up their minds. She glided like the wind as she moved beneath their blades, transitioning to ‘left-handed windmill slice,’ a move that allowed her to attack with her right hand before finishing the older guard with another slash from her left. The move was quick, and the man lay dead before an incredibly surprised Captain Pogue.

  Now settled into ‘circle your arms like a ballerina,’ she paused long enough for the second man to turn and face her. She parried with a left-handed ‘punch the sword’ and stabbed his abdomen with her right in a move she called ‘belly blow.’ The man stared at her smiling face with disbelief.

  Alec’s voice met her ears, breaking her attention from her dance. “Finish him, dearie. That wound will kill him, but not quickly enough.” He glanced toward the fighting near the tents, a battle raged between berserkers and the mercenaries hired by the lords. “We’ve got to find Mattie and the girls.”

  Marita nodded, then drew her sword from the guard’s gut, scrunching her nose at the mixture of blood and shit pushed out by his ruptured intestines. The man dropped his sword and grabbed his belly, trying desperately to push his insides back in. He slid to his knees and Marita crossed her swords. She knew the actual name of her next move, ‘crossing the crimson river.’ Unlike the last time she used it, she knew that once you crossed the river you could never return. She crossed him over, nonetheless.

  “Help me up, Marita.” Pogue’s voice wavered, betraying the pain in the back of his leg. He was wounded, but not as seriously as she had previously feared. “I think I can stand.”

  “But can you fight?”

  “Yes. Where did you learn those moves, dearie?”

  “By watching you and Amash, Silly!” A thought crossed her mind and she frowned, suddenly worried. “Are you upset with me again?”

  “Actually, this time I’m quite thankful.” Marita offered up his swords and he took them, pointing one at the plump woman on the ground. She still lay on her back, eyes wide after watching Marita kill the two guards. Alec placed the blade to her throat and growled, “Where is my wife?”

  “She’s in the grand hall, no doubt serving the lords.”

  “Take us there,” he barked.

  The woman clamored to her feet and led them toward a secret entrance into the manor house. “Here’s the door, please let me go, sir.”

  “No, you will stay with us and take me to Mattie. I don’t trust you not to bring more guards.” She pressed on a set of bricks, causing a section of the wall to break away and swing inside. “When I came by earlier, you knew exactly whose husband I am. How do you know my name.”

  “No, sir!” She pleaded “I was scared and wanted to warn Mrs. Pogue in case you were lying.”

  Marita pushed by the sniveling woman and entered the passageway first. “She’s lying, Alec.”

  “I know she is, dearie.”

  “Can we kill her?” The woman let out a miserable whimper at the suggestion.

  “Alas. No, we should not. We may need her.”

  “Pity.” Marita moved slowly through the passage, leading the way and feeling around in the dark. “Where does this passage lead?”

  “To the pantry.”

  “We’ll just see about that,” the girl responded. A gust of wind blew past the trio, despite the closed door behind them. Marita travelled with her mind along the breeze, scouting ahead. As she rounded a corner, she encountered a door that easily pushed open with the gust
. All that lay ahead were stacks of dry goods along tall shelves, each meticulously arranged and organized. Satisfied, she snapped her mind back into her body. “That was the truth. It’s the pantry and it looks safe.”

  “Good,” Alec responded. “We are so close now I can’t even bear it.”

  “Captain Pogue?” Marita bit her lip, worried how to say the next bit. She was trying so hard to be a good daughter to him and what she was about to say had been bothering her.

  “Yes?”

  “I’m sorry you heard me say the ‘f’ word, before I killed those men.”

  “It’s okay, dearie,” he replied, “sometimes it’s an appropriate word to use. I would say that was good timing.” He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, giving her a light squeeze.

  “Oh, I’m not sorry I said it, I’m sorry that you heard me say it.” Even though it was dark, she shot him a thumbs up and a smile of reassurance. Everything is perfect right now, she thought. I can’t wait to meet Mattie!

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Braen awoke to the creaking of timbers and the sound of water lapping the hull. He could tell by the spacing in the waves that they kept a fast pace. That’s odd, he mused, surely the crew would not have shoved off without waking me. He opened his eyes and rolled over, eager to slip on his boots and head topside to investigate.

  Hester lay on her side, facing him and smiling. “Well, good morning.” She placed her hand on his chest and he sat up in shock.

  Shock was replaced by anger when he realized the state of their undress. His eyes shot to the empty chair beside the bed. “Where are my clothes?”

  She gestured to the crumpled heap on the floor. “You threw them off in your passion, or don’t you remember?” A look of worry crossed her face and she added, “Were you so drunk last night that you don’t even remember making love to me?” She pointed at the empty bottle of 754 on the table.

  “That’s impossible,” Braen protested, “I only drank one glass before falling asleep! I recorked that bottle!”

  “No, you drank so much at your meeting that you apparently don’t even remember sending word for me to join you!” She looked put out and stood from the bed. When she turned her back Braen laid eyes on his brother’s handiwork. His heart broke and his anger softened into concern for Hester.

  “He did that to you?”

  “Yes. And that’s not all I’ve endured.”

  “I’ll kill him.” The captain’s cheeks began to dance as he ground his teeth in rage. “I’ll gut him and leave him to the sharks for this.”

  A quiet knock at the door turned his attention. A meek voice from the other side begged, “Buh… Braen, can you cuh… calm down? The suh… seas are getting ruh… rough.”

  “I’m sorry, Sippen!” The bearded captain gathered up his clothing and began dressing.

  Hester sat naked on the chair beside him, staring with a wanton smile. “It’s been a long time since we’ve been alone.”

  He pleaded, “Can you please put on some clothing?”

  She looked down at her body and raised her hands in a shrug. “What does it matter? It seems that I remember what we both look like, since I can recollect last night.”

  “Did we?”

  “Did we what? Do what we did as horny teenagers?” Her cheeks curled into a devious smile. “Did we have sex, Braen? Is that what you want to know?”

  “Well, did we?”

  “Yes, we did.” After a pause she added, “And it was amazing.”

  Braen grunted his displeasure and fought to pull on his boots, fumbling in his hurry and dropping one to the deck. “I need to go.”

  “I wish things had been different, Braen. I wish that you had been crowned and we had married as planned.”

  “My father always said to ‘wish in one hand and shit in the other, just to see which one fills up quicker.’ I finally understand what he meant.”

  She wrinkled up her nose. “How crass.”

  “How wise.” He finally pulled on the last boot and made for the door. “You made your choice on the day you went to Skander. You broke my heart in a million pieces and I’ve spent my life trying to get over you.”

  “But have you?”

  His thoughts immediately turned to Eusari. Poor Eusari. I can’t tell her of this, or she will never forgive me. Demon’s nipples, what have I done? “Undeniably, yes. I finally have, and I am in love with another.” He swung the door open and strode out, letting it swing on its hinges.

  Suddenly aware of her nakedness, Hester ran to shut it. But just before she did, a one-legged man with an eyepatch walked by and whistled, “Looking good, Hester!”

  “Piss off, Cedric!” She screamed as she slammed it tight.

  “I already did, Hester!” Came the muffled reply from the other side.

  Braen arrived topside to find that they had pushed far during the night. Sippen manned the helm, having recently relieved Krill to lay below. “I’m duh… disappointed in you, Bruh… Braen.”

  “I’m disappointed in myself. Believe me when I tell you that I don’t remember any of it. It’s strange, like I was drugged or something.” Silence passed between the two friends as Malfeasance raced along. “How far have we travelled? I don’t suppose we could come about and drop Hester back in The Cove?”

  “Nuh… not a chance. We’re arriving in a cuh… couple of hours.”

  Braen pondered the situation ahead. If his brother is already in Middleton, then he would have two battles to fight. One with him and then one with Eusari. She will be furious when she sees Hester aboard. “Has Sebastian reached Caroline, yet?”

  “Nuh… no. The last we huh… heard is that Eusari wuh… won’t talk to you.”

  “We need to find her. Tell the boy to try and track She Wolf from the air.” He frowned at dark clouds on the horizon. “Isn’t that the direction of Middleton?”

  Sippen nodded, “I thuh… think it’s smuh… smoke.”

  “Then it’s already begun. Order the men to battle stations and let’s be ready for anything.”

  Eusari felt the chill of the storm before she saw it above the harbor. Thankfully neither she nor Jacque had been looking directly at the flash, so they were spared blindness. Even still, as she blinked against the sudden brightness, the image of the Braston sigil graced her eyelids. He’s a monster and must be stopped! The air around them suddenly felt alive and her hair stood on end. With quick thinking, she grabbed her crewman and pulled him to safety. They tumbled into the muck of the street just as the ground where they were standing exploded with lightning.

  The two scrambled to their feet and ran, dodging debris and people scampering for safety. An old woman ambled out in front of them and Jacque collided with a crack of her bones. The two toppled to the ground with a thud and various groans. The woman, worse for the incident, lay sprawled on the ground, staring at the sky with eyes forever scarred by the Braston sigil.

  “I’m blind,” the woman kept repeating to no one, “all I can see is the cat! Gods take me now! I’m blind!”

  Eusari grabbed Jacque’s arm and pulled him to his feet, muttering, “Be more careful!”

  “I’m sorry! I didn’t see her!” After a brief pause, he added with a smile, “I guess she didn’t see it coming either.”

  “Not the time!” With an eyeroll she groaned, “All you men are as bad as Krill!”

  “Aye, I know that we arrrr…”

  Eusari ignored him as she wheeled around a corner, nearly crashing into a squad of soldiers. In the middle of the unit stood an ancient man dressed in the white furs of a sabre cat. The man pointed one finger and the pirates flew into a wall, crashing hard against the bricks. The soldiers rushed forward with swords drawn, eager to finish them off. Instinctively Eusari reached out with her mind.

  Nearby she felt several shrubberies. These came to life and thrashed and fla
iled at the Norsemen, luring them to turn and fight them off. The strangely dressed emotant giggled with merriment as he watched the soldiers fight against the bushes, sounding more like a child than a man of many years. Eusari took advantage of the distraction to reach out further for something to bond.

  She found a tree that was neither too small nor too large. With a grin she brought it to life. The oak stepped out from its bed, lumbering toward the northern invaders who were too busy chopping at bushes to notice. She compelled her new weapon forward, swinging a massive branch toward the elderly man’s head and cracking his skull from behind. With the emotant down, the tree lumbered toward the others, grabbing ahold and squeezing them breathless.

  Scrambling to her feet, Eusari shouted over the roar above, “Hurry! We’ve got to get to the Rookery!” They rounded the bend and surveyed the scene in the harbor. Skander’s ships had landed and his entire army disembarked. Movement at the harbor entrance caused her heart to flutter when she recognized a shimmering flagship with four billowing masts leading twenty frigates. “It’s Malfeasance,” she shouted, “Braen came!” In an instant she forgave any and all transgressions, whether real or perceived. Even if you screwed her, I forgive you, she thought, thank you for coming after me!

  Braen eased Malfeasance into the harbor, eyes fixed the mayhem ahead. The entire city burned, and more than fifty lightning infused tornados flung bolts indiscriminately. “What the hell is this?”

  “Looks like Middleton, Cap’n!”

  “Thanks, Krill.” The Gunnery Sergeant proffered a salute and went about his duties preparing the guns. Braen stared back at the carnage with sympathy for the people dying in the streets. “Sippen! Signal the others to load explosive rounds. Take out every one of his ships!”

  The little man complied and soon the longboats in the harbor were reduced to splinters.

  Braston lifted his spyglass and surveyed the pier. A lone figure stood defiantly shaking his fist, his backdrop a fiery hell storm. “There he is. Drop anchor.”