Plundered Chronicles: Skyblade's Gambit (Kindle Worlds Novella) (The Skyblade Saga Book 1)

by Robert Dahlen

  “The act of what? Walking down an empty corridor?”

  “Breaking and entering with intent to commit theft.”

  “The door was left open!” Annabel said.

  Victorie raised an eyebrow. “But why else would you be here at this hour?”

  “You don't think pirates pray too?” Annabel grinned, taking a seemingly casual step towards Victorie, lifting her hands.

  “Even if that were true—and I doubt it—we still have other charges to arrest you on. Piracy, larceny, assault.”

  “Ah well.” Annabel sighed. “It was fun while it lasted—” She dropped her arms and drew her rapier. “But I think it's time for you to go,” she said as she swung.

  Victorie calmly stepped back, tossing her light crystal aside, and parried Annabel's strike. “After all we went through to lure you here?” she said with a sly smile as she stabbed at the pirate. “I wouldn't want to disappoint the Admiralty.”

  Annabel sidestepped the major's thrust. “This was a trap?” she said.

  “And a very effective one.” Victorie swung her rapier.

  Annabel parried with a loud clang. “Not if you came alone,” she sneered. “No pampered Navy milksop is a match for me.”

  She swung at Victorie, but the major had already stepped back, hooking her foot behind Annabel's ankle. The pirate fell to the floor. “Pampered?” Victorie said as she stabbed towards Annabel's leg.

  Annabel rolled to one side; the rapier struck the floor, tearing a hole in the carpet. “You lazy officers in your gilded towers,” Annabel said as she jumped to her feet. “I'll bet you never had to work a day in your life.”

  “Enough!” Victorie snapped, swinging wildly at Annabel. “I had to push my way up through the ranks! Work twice as hard as the men for half the respect!”

  “Work, or screw?” Annabel said with a mocking leer as she fought back the major's assault.

  “Look who's talking,” Victorie said angrily. “How else did you get that ship?”

  They locked swords, their blades crossed at the hilt, neither giving an inch. “I took that ship fair and square,” Annabel hissed.

  “By drilling the captain, then murdering him while he slept?” Victorie growled.

  “By defeating him in a fair swordfight!” The pirate's face was creased with anger and tension. “No one gets near my bed!”

  “Who would want to?” Victorie smiled. “You'd be all talk and no action anyway.”

  Annabel slid her left hand towards her belt. “I've had enough—”

  There was a roar like thunder. The cathedral shook, hard enough to cause both women to stumble. Annabel heard glass shatter from behind the door to the lobby. “What the devil…?” Victorie said.

  Annabel spun away from her foe and ran towards the door. She launched a kick, and the door burst open. “I'll deal with you later,” she shouted as she sprinted into the lobby.

  “Running away?” Victorie followed Annabel through the doorway. “Not what I expected from such a brave—” She stopped, her eyes widening.

  The front doors to the lobby were glass, to complement the ceiling, but were an inch thick. That glass had been shattered, the pieces strewn around the entrance. A man stepped through the glass, holding what appeared to be a pistolere with an extended barrel. He wore a formal black suit and a matching cloak with a turned-up collar, and a mask of what appeared to be gold that covered his face except for his eyes, with a mouth fixed in a wide smile.

  There was a dais in the center of the lobby, raised several feet above the floor, with a column set in the middle. A cloth covered the top of the dais and what appeared to be a square display case set on the column. The man in the golden mask grunted as he aimed his weapon at the case.

  A jagged bolt of brilliant blue and white light shot from the weapon with a roar of thunder. It struck the case, shattering it and knocking the cloth aside. As the smoke cleared and the robber walked towards the dais, Annabel could see an amulet, seven sapphires set in silver, shining amidst the broken glass.

  “Hold it!” The robber stopped in front of the dais as two guards, swords drawn, entered the lobby through the door across from Annabel and Victorie. “Drop that pistolere,” the guard said, “and keep your hands high.”

  The masked robber swung his weapon towards the guards and pulled the trigger again. The bolt caught both guards in the chest. They slumped to the ground, not moving, not breathing. The robber reached into the case and grabbed the amulet with his free hand. His muffled chortling echoed around the lobby.

  “Halt!” Victorie had pulled her pistolere from inside her coat, and aimed it at the robber. “I am Major Victorie Brassfeld, Cerindel Navy, and I arrest you for murder and attempted robbery. Drop your weapon or I shoot.”

  The robber said nothing as he turned to face Victorie. “I warned you,” the major said as she fired her pistolere.

  Her shot struck the robber in the chest. He bent over and staggered back two steps. He started to laugh again as he straightened up and pointed his pistolere at Victorie. “How—” she started to say.

  The robber pulled the trigger. As he did, Annabel threw herself at Victorie, grabbing her knees, pulling her down. The bolt shot over the major's head, clipping her hat and knocking it off.

  With a hiss, the robber tucked the amulet into a coat pocket and ran outside, jumping over the glass. “Get up!” Annabel shouted as she got to her feet. “After him!”

  “This is not your fight,” Victorie said as she stood.

  “As long as he has that pretty amulet, it is.” Annabel ran towards the door. “And I don't like murderers any more than you do.”

  “Try to keep up, then,” Victorie said as she ran after the pirate.

  The plaza that fronted the Cathedral of Glory was wide and barren, with a fountain in the exact center. No one was there as the sun started to rise except for the man in the golden mask and his pursuers, who had no trouble spotting him as he fled down an alley. “After him!” Victorie shouted.

  “Do you have to be so loud?” Annabel snapped.

  “Hung over, are we?” The major smiled as she sped down the alley.

  Annabel snorted. “I can handle my ale better than anyone.”

  "So there is something you can handle?"

  “Spare the insults.” Annabel reached for her pistolere. “Think I can get a clear shot?”

  “Save it,” Victorie said. “Didn't you see when I shot at him?”

  “Aye,” Annabel said. “But I wasn't going to aim for the chest like you did—”

  She stopped as she saw the man in the golden mask. He had come out of the alley and was standing in the middle of the street, turning to face her and Victorie. He lifted his weapon, aiming it at the two women.

  Annabel yanked her pistolere from her belt and fired. The pellet grazed the man's hand; he winced as he dropped his pistolere. “Got him!” she shouted.

  The man growled wordlessly behind his golden mask as he reached down for his weapon. Annabel took two steps towards him. Can't let him get that thunder gun, she thought. If he does—

  “Get behind me, Skyblade!”

  She stopped, almost running into Victorie. The major had drawn her pistolere and was taking aim—not at the man in the golden mask, Annabel realized, but at his weapon. She saw the crack in the casing, and the crystals below it, as Victorie fired.

  The pellet smashed into one of the crystals. It flared as it broke open, releasing the magical energy it held, catching the robber in the shockwave. He was knocked to the street, gasping for breath. “I'll be damned,” Annabel said softly.

  “Good shooting for a pampered milksop.” Victorie grinned as she holstered her pistolere. “Let's see if we can get the amulet back from our friend."

  “I'd like to get a look at that thunder gun while we're at it,” Annabel said as she started towards the masked robber.

  “'Thunder gun'?” Victorie glanced at the pirate as she fell in next to her.

  “It's almost as pret
ty as that amulet.” Annabel winked at Victorie.

  “I'm not sure I should let you near either—”

  The light that burst through the plaza seemed brighter than the sun. Annabel threw her arm across her eyes a half second too late, wincing at the glare. She felt the pain in her eyes and her head and had to fight off panic, the fleeeting thought that she would never see again.

  “Are you all right?”

  Annabel felt the hand on her shoulder. She lowered her arm and blinked. As her vision cleared, Victorie was there, staring into her eyes, and something stirred when Annabel saw the concern there. “I'm fine,” the pirate said. “What happened?”

  “The robber must have had a flash bomb,” Victorie said. “He escaped while we were blinded.”

  “With the amulet?”

  “And the thunder gun.”

  “Seven damned devils.” Annabel spat. “But why would he have stolen the amulet?”

  “And how did he know it was there?” Victorie tapped her chin. “It was supposed to be a secret until the unveiling tomorrow.”

  “Wait,” Annabel said. “That mask. Did you get a good look at it?”

  “Somewhat.”

  “Did you notice the way that smile was cast? The arching of the eyebrows?” Annabel half-smiled. “That's a Svendaran mask if ever I saw one. Which I did last winter in a certain chest.”

  “That last part comes as no surprise,” Victorie murmured. “But that would explain the flash bomb...and maybe that thunder gun...”

  Annabel raised her eyebrows. “And if he was working for Svendar...”

  “Damn. We need to get to the docks at once.”

  “We?” Annabel glared at Victorie. “I don't work with Navy milksops who are out to throw me in a dungeon.”

  “Even if it gives you a chance to try to take the amulet for yourself?” Victorie smiled slyly.

  She's good, Annabel thought. Really good. And there's something about her... “I may regret saying this,” she said, “but we should stop the robber and retake the amulet first. Then, we decide who gets it. Truce?”

  “Truce.” The women shook hands, and Victorie added, “Shall we?”

  Victorie was quietly astonished by the time she and Annabel had reached the skydock. Not only had the pirate matched her stride for stride as they ran, she wasn't even breathing hard. I seem to keep underestimating her, the major thought. I must be more careful about that. “See anything?” she asked Annabel as they hurried down a pier, rushing past surprised airship passengers and crew.

  Annabel squinted. “I think...” She stopped for half a second, spun left towards a cluster of smaller piers, and veered right, vanishing from Victorie's sight.

  “Damn,” Victorie said softly as she ran after Annabel. “What game is that bloody pirate playing—”

  Victorie heard the crack of a pistolere, echoing through the quiet morning. She reached for her own pistolere as she turned right, not sure what to expect but ready for anything.

  “That was a warning shot!” Victorie saw Annabel, arms in the air, and a Navy officer ten feet from her, pistolere raised. “Keep those hands up, pirate!” the officer shouted.

  Victorie hurried up to the officer. “Sergeant Gastrell?” she said.

  Gastrell glanced over at Victorie. “Morning, Brassfeld,” the sergeant said. “Care to give me a hand?”

  Annabel shook her head. “I should have known,” she muttered.

  “It was a lucky moment,” Gastrell continued. “I was out for my morning stroll, and I just happened to come across the notorious Captain Skyblade!”

  “Gastrell—” Victorie started to say.

  “Help me bring her in. I'll be sure to buy you a nice dinner with the bounty money—”

  “Put away your pistolere,” Victorie said. “Skyblade's with me.”

  “What?” Gastrell glanced at Victorie. “Are you mad? Or trying to claim my bounty?”

  “Neither.” Victorie stared at Gastrell. “And I gave you an order.”

  Gastrell sighed and holstered her weapon. “Why are you doing this?”

  Victorie looked over at Annabel; the pirate was staring at her, wide-eyed, as she lowered her arms. “We made a deal,” the major said. “There's an emergency, and I need you to report it.”

  “Me?”

  Victorie nodded. “The Amulet of Glena has been stolen from the Cathedral of Glory. The thief used a new type of pistolere, a 'thunder gun', to break in and murder two guards. We believe he's working for someone on Svendar.”

  “Ye gods.” Gastrell turned pale. “What are your orders, Major?”

  “Get back to the Admiralty. Find Admiral Stamford, and him alone. Let him know what has happened. I'll be trying to catch the thief, with the assistance of Captain Skyblade, and I may need to leave Cerindel to retrieve the amulet.”

  Gastrell saluted and ran off. As she did, Annabel ran down a pier, pulling her spyglass from her coat. “Damn it,” she said. “That cutter that just cast off? I can see our masked friend piloting it.”

  “The one with Svendar markings on the sails?” Victorie said.

  “Aye. He's bearing west, but he'll catch the currents and swing north.”

  “We need to stop him,” Victorie said, “but it'll take twenty minutes or more to launch a Navy cruiser. We've lost him.”

  “Nay,” Annabel said, twirling her spyglass. “There's one ship here in port that can catch him.”

  “And which ship would that...” Victorie stopped and tried to keep her expression blank.

  “Which one do you think?” Annabel grinned. “Mine.”

  Chapter Three

  Big Tom nervously paced across the deck of the Peregrine. “What the Hell is taking the captain so long?” he growled.

  “Maybe she's trying to find a buyer for her bauble,” Hardwicke said from the helm.

  “Or...” Pilfor swallowed. “Maybe the guard caught her.” The glashtyn perched along the rail exchanged sad glances.

  Tom shook his head. “I'd know if she'd been caught,” he said.

  “All the same,” Hardwicke said, “how long do we wait for her to return?”

  “As long as it takes,” Tom said, setting his jaw. “I'm not leaving without her.”

  “Don't be a damn fool, Tom,” the helmsman snapped. “I say we give it one more hour, and then—”

  “Ahoy!”

  Tom and the others saw Annabel rushing towards the ship. “Cap'n!” the troll said. “What kept you?”

  “Long story.” Annabel sprinted up the gangplank. “We need to cast off now. Hardwicke, set a course—”

  “Captain?” Pilfor said hesitantly. “Are you...being arrested?”

  The crew glared at Victorie as she followed Annabel on board the airship. “What is a Navy officer doing here?” Hardwicke said, folding his arms.

  “Costume Day came early—” Victorie said with a hopeful smile.

  “She's with me,” Annabel said. “We're going to need her help to claim a treasure. She will not harm any of us, and she is not to be harmed. And if any of you have a problem with that, it'll be the brig for you.”

  Tom stared at his captain for a long moment, then nodded. “Aye, Cap'n,” he said quietly before turning and walking away.

  “Set sail for Svendar!” Annabel shouted. “Look alive! The hunt is on!” She walked towards the helm as the airship's propellers began to spin. Victorie followed her, trying to ignore the angry stares, the grim expressions on the Peregrine's crew.

  As the Peregrine cast off, Skyblade seemed to be everywhere. One minute, she was at the helm, checking the course; the next, she'd be tightening a sail, or breaking up a squabble between two glashtyn, or searching the skies for any sign of the airship they were chasing. Annabel kept talking to her crew as they sailed, and in those rare moments when she had no one to talk to, she would sing softly to herself.

  Victorie stood quietly by the stairway to the helm, and watched the pirate captain go about her tasks. Very efficient worker, she though
t. Some of the Navy captains I've served under could learn from her. Her weapons had been confiscated, locked away in Annabel's cabin, but she had not been accosted or threatened, and she wondered if the captain's influence was the cause of that.

  Annabel tucked her spyglass into her pocket as she walked away from the bow. She fell quiet as she approached the stairs, slowing her pace as she came up to Victorie. “Enjoying the cruise, Major?” Annabel asked.

  “I'd enjoy it more with a brandy and a comfortable chair,” Victorie said smoothly.

  “Just what I'd expect from a pampered milksop,” Annabel said.

  “Couldn't think of a better insult, Captain?”

  Annabel snorted. “When's the last time you even walked along a deck, never mind pulling your weight on an airship?”

  “Well...” Victorie made a point of stroking her chin as she looked up. In the corner of her eye, she could see Annabel's eyes widen at the sight of the scar on the back of her hand, gained in a fight with a desperate rogue three years ago, and the crooked little finger from when she had managed to keep her training vessel from crashing by jamming her hand in the ship's wheel. “Not so long that I can't tell there's a problem with your rigging,” the major said.

  “A problem?” Annabel chuckled.

  “That rope.” Victorie pointed. “It's starting to rot. It's not obvious at first, because it rots from the inside. And when it breaks, it'll likely be at the worst possible time.”

  Annabel's eyes narrowed. “Are you doing this to undermine my authority?” she said softly.

  “No,” Victorie said. “It's for our safety. Yours and mine both.” Their eyes met. Victorie held her ground and her breath, keeping her expression calm, hoping that she hadn't crossed a line.

  Annabel stepped back. "Lickfoot!" she shouted. "Get up there and prove our guest wrong!"

  The glashtyn nodded and climbed the rigging. His wings flapped as he examined the rope. "She's right, Cap'n," he said. "This one's about to snap."

  Annabel nodded. "Replace it," she said. "And check the ropes near that one. Make sure the rot doesn't spread." Lickfoot nodded and climbed down, shouting as several other glashtyn ran to get new rope.