Plundered Chronicles_Skyblade's Gambit

by Robert Dahlen

  Text copyright ©2016 by the Author.

  This work was made possible by a special license through the Kindle Worlds publishing program and has not necessarily been reviewed by Novel Publicity dba Broad Wing Books. All characters, scenes, events, plots and related elements appearing in the original Plundered Chronicles remain the exclusive copyrighted and/or trademarked property of Novel Publicity dba Broad Wing Books, or their affiliates or licensors.

  For more information on Kindle Worlds: http://www.amazon.com/kindleworlds

  Contents

  Title

  About This Book

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Also by Robert Dahlen

  More Plundered World

  Want More?

  Acknowledgements

  Skyblade's Gambit

  Robert Dahlen

  About This Book

  Captain Annabel Skyblade commands the Peregrine, the most feared pirate airship to sail the skies of Aldarre, plundering the rich and powerful. The rulers of the great sky realms have had enough of her, and top Navy intelligence agent Victorie Brassfeld has a plan to capture the pirate, using a lure too strong to resist—a valuable, beautiful sapphire amulet.

  But the amulet hides a great secret, and when it is stolen by sinister forces, Annabel and Victorie must join together to retrieve it. And as they face danger and adventure, they also have to face their feelings for each other, feelings they have never had before, when they discover...

  Hearts can be stolen too.

  To all the bookstores I haunted

  when I was younger,

  and all the authors

  who created all the worlds

  I discovered on their shelves.

  Chapter One

  Annabel Skyblade peered through her spyglass as she stood at the prow of the Peregrine, scanning the horizon. Her eyes were sharper than most, so she could see that the faint outline in the distant northeastern sky was not a cloud or a lone star drake, but another airship. She spun and hurried along the deck, heading up the stairs to the helm. As she did, she glanced at the mainsail; on it was painted a skull and crossbones and, below that, the head of a falcon. She smiled.

  She was a young woman, not very tall, with wavy red hair, dusky skin and green eyes that sparkled as she thought of the chase to come. She wore a blue waistcoat with gold trim over a white blouse, black trousers and boots that were well-worn but still serviceable. On the left side of her belt was a scabbard that held a rapier; on the right, a holster for her Svendaran pistolere.

  The helm was set thirty feet above the main deck of the airship. An older man was at the ship's wheel, studying the sky ahead. He had a white beard and a scar across one cheek, and was wearing goggles. “Hardwicke!” Annabel said as she reached the top of the stairs. “Take us northeast.”

  “Spotted something, Cap’n?” Hardwicke said as he spun the wheel, glancing at the large compass set into the railing to his right.

  “Aye, but let’s close in to see what we’ve found.”

  The helmsman nodded as he grabbed a lever to the left of the ship’s wheel. He pushed it all the way forward; the ship lurched briefly as the three sets of propellers, two mounted below the side-sails and one pair that flanked the rudder, reached their maximum rotating speed. At that pace, the crystals that fed them power would be quickly drained of their magical energy and need to be recharged, but until then, the Peregrine was the fastest airship of her class in the skies.

  After a few minutes, Annabel took another glance through her spyglass. “It's a merchant airship,” she said. “Corsair class. Her colors are black, blue and gold.”

  “Ruegal colors,” Hardwicke said.

  Annabel smiled slightly. “They must think they're going to have a quiet journey.”

  “I take it they're not.”

  “Quiet journeys are staggeringly dull. Keep her steady, Hardwicke.” He nodded as Annabel crossed the helm, stopping by a speaking tube near the stairs. She softly cleared her throat as she knelt by the tube's opening. “All hands on deck,” she said. “Repeat, all hands on deck.”

  Annabel straightened up and glanced at the inlays along the wooden railing. They were a silvery metal, and most of them glowed softly, but one did not. She laid a finger on the metal and chanted, smiling as the inlay started to glow.

  The metal might have been known by other names elsewhere, but among the sky realms and mountain kingdoms of Aldarre, it was called argent. It had the unique ability of floating when properly enchanted, and when enough of it was bound to a ship, with additional lift from a hot air balloon, the airship could travel the skies, from sky realm to sky realm and back.

  Though the ship’s mage, Pilfor, could keep the argent’s enchantment properly renewed, Annabel was able to help out with what little magic she knew. It was said that all good ship’s captains were part magician; Annabel liked to joke that in her case, it was literal.

  “Captain Skyblade?” She looked down and saw the slender figure of Pilfor. He had pale skin, mussed-up hair and spectacles, all of which were hidden by his red and black hooded robe. “What sort of trouble might we be facing today?”

  “The best kind,” Annabel said.

  “Highly profitable, you mean?”

  “Observant as always, Pilfor. Set the masque in place, and show the colors on my signal.”

  “Same as always?” Pilfor asked.

  “Aye.” Annabel turned and saw that her crew was starting to gather.

  Most of the crewmen were glashtyn, small, winged humanoids with bulging noses and ears and gnarled limbs, wearing simple clothing and sharp-toothed smiles. It was said that they were difficult to train, and earning their respect was even harder. They chatted loudly as they waited, their bursts of crude laughter rolling across the deck. Annabel had recruited the glashtyn from another pirate ship shortly after she had taken the Peregrine, and as much trouble as they could be at times, they also worked hard and loved the pirate life.

  Behind them stood a troll, his small horns jutting through his long white hair. He wore short black pants and a matching vest, and a mace dangled from his belt. He idly cracked his red knuckles as he nodded at his captain. Annabel spared a quick smile for Tomasund. The troll had been an indentured servant on the Peregrine before Annabel had seized the airship and granted him his freedom. Big Tom had chosen to stay, and he had become Annabel’s first mate and closest companion on board.

  Annabel took several steps down the stairs. “Avast!” she shouted. The glashtyn all stopped talking as one and looked at their captain. “I know the pickings have been slim lately,” she said. “But we've got a juicy one in our sights! A merchant ship, ripe for the taking!”

  Her gaze swept the crew as her voice grew louder. “Aye, they could put up a fight. But I know you skydogs are tougher and meaner than anything those pampered salesmen could even dream of hiring to guard them! Let's show those landlubbers and layabouts a thing or two!”

  Captain Skyblade drew her sword and pointed it towards the heavens. “We'll feast like kings and drink like devils tonight!” she shouted. The crew cheered, and she smiled broadly at the sound.

  “Quite a sight,” Vandensloop murmured as he stood on the deck of the corsair class airship Gold's Lure.

  “What is, sir?” the helmsman shouted. He pulled a rag from his pocket and wiped his brow.

  “That.” Vandensloop pointed towards the southeast. “The star drake.”

  The helmsman glanced over and saw the winged
reptile, flapping its night-black wings as it drifted towards them. “Odd, that,” he said.

  “How so?”

  “Star drakes usually travel in pairs. Why is this one alone?”

  “I won't question our luck if you won't.” Vandensloop rubbed his hands. “Take us towards the beast. If we can capture it, I know alchemists who would pay dearly for star drake blood and scales.”

  “Your ship,” the helmsman said to himself as he turned the ship's wheel.

  The glashtyn chatted eagerly as they grabbed the sides of the net. “Haul!” Big Tom yelled. “Haul, you lazy sons of sows! Quiet as sleeping babies!” Wings flapping, the glashtyn lifted off the deck, heading for the merchant ship that drew ever closer.

  Annabel gazed intently through her spyglass. “That merchant never held a sword in his life,” she muttered. “More fool him.”

  “There are bodyguards,” Hardwicke said. “Goblins, at least three.”

  “Let them try to stop us.” Annabel watched as the glashtyn stopped just a foot short of the merchant airship. Three of them held large hooks tied firmly to one end of the net. “Steady as she goes, Hardwicke.”

  The helmsman nodded as Annabel dashed down the stairs. She ran along the deck until she reached the net, which had been secured to the rail. She set one foot on the rail and drew her weapons, her sword in her right hand, her pistolere in her left.

  The pistolere was a weapon crafted by Svendaran gadgeteers. Two crystals were set in the handgrip; the magic power they held could push enchanted iron pellets out the barrel faster than lightning when the wielder pulled the trigger. Only trained soldiers and guards, and the nobility, were supposed to have these, which had annoyed Annabel no end. She was just as good as any of them in their gilded towers and their overwrought airships, and she had been all too happy to claim two pistoleres for her own from an uppity Svendaran noble.

  She aimed her pistolere towards the sky, pointing away from the Peregrine, and pulled the trigger. Her weapon went off with a loud crack, the fiery pellet streaking from the barrel.

  “That's a funny thing,” the helmsman said as Gold's Lure neared the star drake.

  “What would be?” Vandensloop said as he eyed the drake.

  “The beast. It's holding its ground. Like it's...waiting for us.”

  The merchant chuckled. “Star drakes are known for their curiosity. A fatal trait in this one's case. Take us closer—”

  A crack rang out through the sky. The drake wavered and vanished. In its place was a cruiser class airship, with masts fore and aft. On the mainsail was painted a skull and crossbones and, overlapping it from below, the head of a falcon.

  Vandensloop jerked his head when he heard the laughter. Three glashtyn were holding one end of a net, eighty feet long, that stretched back to the pirate airship. They hooked the net onto the rail of Gold's Lure.

  At the far end of the net, Annabel pointed her sword at Vandensloop. “Merchant!” she shouted. “I am Captain Skyblade of the free ship Peregrine! Hand over your valuables, your precious cargo, and swiftly, so that no one has to be hurt!” She smiled sharply. “And hand over your ale and brandy while you're at it. Our throats are dry.” Vandensloop stared at Annabel, his mouth agape, his breathing shallow.

  “Be damned if we'll give in to filthy pirates!” The helmsman grabbed a spear. “I'll teach you—”

  Before he could take a step, he was swarmed by half a dozen glashtyn. They brought him down to the deck, kicking and punching him, laughing at his misfortune. “Give in, lapdog!” one shouted shrilly.

  “Guards!” the helmsman managed to shout. “We've been boarded! We've—” He fell silent as one glashtyn took the rag from his pocket and stuffed it in his mouth.

  Pilfor pointed at the net and gestured, speaking under his breath. The spaces between the strands in the net started to glow. Annabel nodded and started to run down the net, Big Tom right behind. She stepped on the glowing spaces, the net firm and holding in place as she ran. “'Ware goblins, Tom!” she said as they neared the ship.

  Tom sneered as he hoisted his mace. “Let them come,” he said. “After dealing with glashtyn, I could use a change of pace.”

  Annabel grinned as she jumped off the net and onto the deck of the merchant ship. She saw the four goblins charging towards her, pushing the fear-frozen merchant aside. She lifted her rapier and waited.

  One goblin, taller and broader than the others, pulled ahead and hoisted his weapon, a sword that a human would have trouble lifting. “Such a little pirate,” he said with a sneer. “And a toothpick for a sword. No match for us!”

  He ran towards Annabel. She held her guard until the goblin was almost upon her. As the greatsword came down, she spun out of its way and behind the goblin. She slashed her sword, and the blade tore through the goblin's leg.

  The pirate whirled around to face another goblin. He was wielding a halberd, and with a growl, he swung it at Annabel. She ducked back to avoid the blade; as she did, she pulled her pistolere from her belt and fired.

  The shot tore through the goblin's arm. He winced and pulled the halberd back. Annabel leaped and swung; her rapier sliced into the goblin's arm, cutting deeper into the pellet wound. The goblin dropped to his knees, clutching his bloody arm.

  Annabel glanced behind her. Tom was grappling with a goblin, but the last one was sneaking up behind the troll, his spear ready. She hurried softly down the deck, sword raised.

  The goblin grinned as he lifted his spear, ready to skewer the troll. Before he could strike, Annabel brought the hilt of her sword down, hitting him in the temple. His grin faded as his eyes rolled up in his head.

  As Annabel's foe toppled over, Tom threw the last goblin to the deck. “Only four?” he snarled. “Hardly worth the fight.”

  Annabel nodded as she looked back at the Peregrine. Pilfor was pointing at the goblins; she could see the faint aura of the detention spells the mage had cast that would hold the hired guards in place. “Keep watch on things up here just in case,” she said to the troll. “Lickfoot? Sourtongue? Let's see what our friend might be hauling with him.” Two of the glashtyn flew away from the helm, joining Annabel as she headed below decks.

  The door flew open with one good kick, and Annabel strode in to the merchant's cabin, the glashtyn following. She glanced disdainfully at the elegant furniture, the hand-painted privacy screen, the art that hung on the cabin walls. “Foppery,” she muttered as she walked around a table covered in scrolls and workbooks. “Waste of good money.”

  Annabel stepped behind the screen and saw the bed there, with silk sheets and a thick comforter. She dropped to her knees and slid her cutlass under the bed, stopping when she felt the blade touch something hard. She reached down and pulled out a wooden chest. “Ah, that'll do,” she said.

  “Cap'n!” She turned to see the two glashtyn jumping down from a shelf, both holding all the bottles they could carry. “Look what we found!”

  “Farrasper whisky.” Annabel smiled, hoisting the chest as she walked towards the door. “So our merchant has some taste...”

  She paused as she glanced at the table. One of the notebooks had been left open, and as she read down the page, her eyes narrowed. “Our merchant also has a reputation,” she said. “I will have a word with him.”

  The merchant was still frozen by fear and shock as Annabel stepped back on the deck. She handed the chest to Big Tom. “Get this on board the Peregrine,” she said.

  “Even if Lickfoot tries to trade me a bottle of Farrasper whisky for it?” the troll said.

  “Especially if he does.” Annabel turned towards the merchant. “Vandensloop. I've heard of you.”

  “You—” Vandensloop swallowed. “You won't get away with this.”

  “Oh, I will,” Annabel said, and the anger in her voice made the merchant cringe. “Much like you've gotten away with your crimes. Cheating the poor, exploiting the needy, lining your pockets with other people's tears. You deserve this, and more.”

  “Bol
d words from a damned pirate,” Vandensloop said.

  Annabel strode away and boarded the net, the glashtyn joining her. She turned back to face Vandensloop. “Damned I may be,” the pirate captain said, “but you're damned as well. And I'm far more honest and fair in my dealings than you.” She walked up the net back to the Peregrine, ignoring the merchant's loud and vicious curses.

  The net had been cut and the Peregrine had soared away; the Gold's Lure wouldn't be following, as the holding spells on its passengers and crew wouldn't wear off until after the pirate airship was well out of sight. The bottles had been stowed away for later celebrating, and the treasure chest had been brought to the helm. Annabel, Big Tom, and Hardwicke were kneeling near the chest, with Pilfor off to the side. Several glashtyn perched on the rail, watching the chest like greedy gargoyles.

  Annabel rubbed her hands. “Pilfor?” she said. “If you would do the honors?”

  The mage nodded and pointed at the chest. It started to glow, the light getting brighter as Pilfor grimaced. The locks popped open, and the glow vanished.

  Annabel reached over with her cutlass and pushed the lid up. Her eyes widened as she saw the gold inside the chest. The glashtyn cheered as Big Tom chuckled. “Pilfor?” Annabel said. “Any traps?”

  “Not a one,” Pilfor said. “Our merchant was likely too fond of his gold to pay for them.”

  “More for us.” Annabel grinned as she moved over to the chest. “There should be enough to pay for supplies, and bonuses for all.”

  “It's not all gold.” Hardwicke pointed at a corner. There was a ring there, with a sapphire set in a silver band.

  “Soooo pretty!” Sourtongue said. “Soooo shiny!”

  Annabel picked up the ring and examined it. “A lovely thing, this.”

  “Mine?” the glashtyn said hopefully.