Ebba-Viva Fairisles: Immortal Plunder (Pirates of Felicity Book 1)

by Kelly St Clare

  “A shot through the heart, master pirate. I believe he is gone.” Cosmo’s voice cracked. “He should have had a proper burial.”

  Ebba would much rather sink to the bottom of the ocean than be burned or put in the ground, but she supposed Cosmo’s comment had more to do with the deceased being a prince. Should she hold Cosmo’s hand? Or say something? Some of her fathers didn’t mind affection when they were sad, but the others liked to be alone. Ebba wasn’t sure which group to put Cosmo in.

  Without ceremony, Locks and Plank hefted the prince overboard. Cosmo winced at the splash, but made no move to look over the side as his master sank to the depths.

  “Many would be still alive if not for the prince,” he whispered bitterly.

  Bitterness sat oddly on the man with the amber eyes, like he didn’t wear the emotion often.

  Ebba reached out and took his hand, deciding she’d try. “I’d say,” she said quietly, “many would be alive if Malice’s captain weren’t so cruel.”

  Cosmo stared at her, unspeaking, as though searching for something.

  “And,” she said, “Prince Caspian’s soul will be caught by a bird, did ye know?” Ebba flicked her eyes up, and Cosmo did the same.

  A fish eagle soared high above in looping, swooping circles.

  “Yer master will fly high above the clouds, free and at peace forever.”

  A tear fell from the corner of Cosmo’s eye. He tried to speak, but his voice failed him. Pulling his hand free of hers, he made for the bilge. Ebba watched him cross the deck, her heart squeezing. She wished there was some way to make him feel better. He’d saved her fathers, after all. If freeing them from the gaol had been left to her, they’d probably all be hanging in cages on Exosia right now.

  “He lost his master and all the navy men on the ship, little nymph. He might’ve had many friends onboard.” Plank sat at the back of the stern perched atop a barrel. “Ye just give him time to himself. He’ll soon recover.”

  It seemed odd someone might have navy friends. They were a pirate’s natural enemy. They meant certain death to Ebba. Cosmo was probably raised believing they were good, though.

  “How long to Zol?” she asked, more from a need to distract herself than to hear the answer.

  Plank gazed at the full sails. The wind had steadily risen in the last day. The blue water was darker than the aqua seas they’d traveled between Maltu and Neos, the smooth surface broken into one hundred thousand smaller pieces by the stirring air currents. “I’d say six days, if this wind keeps up,” he answered.

  “And if it doesn’t?” she asked.

  He shrugged. “Then we better be thinkin’ of another plan because if what ye say be right and Pockmark has searched for this treasure for four years, he won’t rest until we be dead.”

  “The dolphins say the storm will be hittin’ in an hour, Stubs. Will we make it?” Grubby asked, standing slowly after climbing the rope. He’d been swimming again.

  Ebba’s brows lifted. Grubby was making comments like that more and more lately. After Barrels questioned what he meant without success, the crew had decided to do their best to accept the harmless statements. Especially since the comments were proving entirely accurate.

  A wall of torrential rain fell in the distance, and they were sailing straight at it. Combined with the rolling waves that began an hour ago, the storm promised to be a large one—not the ‘dump your water and move on’ type of tropical weather Ebba preferred.

  “Guess we’ll wait and see,” was Stubby’s neutral reply.

  Cosmo joined her at the bulwark, a little green around the gills. His appearance was a far cry from the first time they’d met. He wore an old, yellowed set of slops and shirt from their spare clothing chest. He’d put his buckled shoes back on, and his doublet.

  Despite his changed appearance, he stood erect, both hands clasped behind his back as though about to conduct a lesson, or inspect the seaworthiness of their ship.

  “We need to get ye a golden hoop,” Ebba declared.

  He darted his eyes to her earring before hastily glancing over his shoulder at her fathers.

  “They won’t hurt ye. If they wanted to do that, ye’d be back on Neos, bein’ roasted over a fire for the tribespeople’s meal.” She cut off when Cosmo’s green color deepened—his sea sickness clashed horribly with his russet hair.

  Cosmo squeezed his eyes shut and breathed deeply. “What does the golden hoop do?” he forced between clamped lips.

  Ebba flicked her own earring, making it ping. “Helps with the sea chunders, o’ course. And makes ye see better,” she added.

  She turned and leaned her back against the ship side, tilting her head to peer up the mast.

  “Seriously?”

  She met Cosmo’s eyes. “Huh? Oh, the eyesight? Aye, it helps. Why d’ye think so many pirates have them?”

  Barrels teetered past, lashing down the crates, ropes, and buckets on deck. No good to have those flying around in a storm.

  “Pirates have many suspicions and theories, Cosmo,” Barrels said. “I’m not certain the majority of them are accurate or based in science. Whatsoever.”

  Cosmo smiled tentatively at Barrels.

  “Methinks ye’ve been with us long enough to have learnt all our suspicions be true,” Plank called over the gusts from where he furled the topsail with Grubby’s help.

  “Ye know people from Exosia can only be believin’ what they see, Plank,” Ebba replied.

  Barrels laughed lightly and sent Cosmo a pointed look.

  “What you said the other day,” the servant said after Barrels moved away.

  Ebba peered up at the taller man. “Mmm?”

  “About the birds and the prince’s soul. . . .” he supplied.

  “What o’ it?”

  A shadow passed over his smooth face. “Thank you, Mistress Fairisles,” he said shortly.

  Ebba smiled at him, unsure what to say in reply. She inhaled the scent of damp rain instead. Grubby was right again, or the dolphins perhaps—the storm was coming at them fast.

  Cosmo cleared his throat. “Where are we going? Where. . . . What do your fathers mean to do with me?”

  Ebba shrugged. “We be on a tight schedule or we’d drop ye as close to home as we could. I’m sure that after we finish our quest, we’ll drop ye somewhere—”

  “Kentro,” Cosmo blurted.

  “I be guessin’ ye’d like to go to Kentro.” Her lips curved.

  He smiled sheepishly. “I apologize. I do not wish to appear ungrateful for your crew’s hospitality.”

  Ebba snorted. “Ye’re a prince’s servant on a pirate ship. I ain’t daft enough te think ye’d want to stay.”

  Cosmo laughed, a rich sound that made her want to smile with him.

  “Every child wonders what life as a pirate would be like. To explore the freedom of the seas,” he admitted.

  The wind caught one of her beaded dreads and whipped it across her face. “Sod it,” she cursed, rubbing her smarting cheek. She rolled off one of the leather ties around her shirtsleeve and tied back her black hair.

  “You didn’t answer my other question,” he said.

  “Nay,” she answered, folding her arms. “I’m afraid ye won’t be gettin’ one. But we will need to blindfold ye just now. The place we’re headin’ is a secret, and not one we’ll be sharin’.” Covering his amber eyes would be a shame, but he’d only be blindfolded for a day, tops.

  Cosmo’s eyes widened. “What?”

  He spun and jumped, yelling at the sight of Peg-leg, Locks, and Stubby behind him.

  “Just for a little bit,” Ebba said reasonably.

  Zol.

  Ebba sighed, a deep contentment spreading through her. Even the seas knew Felicity’s crew had arrived home. Their sloop slid through the calm waters of their secret cove, hauling to the wooden wharf jutting out from the few scattered shacks they’d erected over the years.

  The circular cove was half a mile in diameter with sheer white cli
ffs rising one hundred yards into the sky, bordering the cove entirely. The high cliffs ensured the small tribe in residence on the island would never be able to climb down into the cove from above. The only other way to reach the cove was via the ocean.

  From the outside of the cove, it appeared as though a cave sat in the southern cliffs of Zol. This was no cave, but a tunnel that led all the way inside from the Caspian Sea.

  The ceiling of the cave wouldn’t allow a masted ship to enter—the reason no pirate had ever found it—and the rolling waters inside the tunnel depths made navigating it via rowboat treacherous.

  A ship Stubby and Locks had crafted was another matter. With their design, the mast could be de-constructed into three parts, allowing Felicity to easily fit through the low cave into the hidden bay. Only Felicity could enter and exit, and only their crew knew of this secret place. The hidden inlet was her fathers’ retirement plan. Their crew’s sanctuary. A plunder they kept from all the realm.

  Barrels called the inlet security. And he was probably right, though Ebba didn’t quite understand what he meant. Or didn’t care to understand, at least.

  Birds squawked overhead. The sun was back out and shining far above. They’d tied the blindfolded Cosmo down in the bilge so he wouldn’t turn as red as a lobster.

  “It be good to be back.” Locks sighed heavily. “Ain’t it, Ebba?”

  “Aye,” she replied. For a few days. . . .

  Their crew furled the sails as Stubby maneuvered Felicity around his hobby ship—the only other ship in the inlet, and one that could never get out because it was too large—through the crowded harbor to dock.

  The ship’s stern bumped gently against the wharf.

  “Lines!” Stubby bellowed.

  Ebba leaped from the sloop and turned in a graceful spin. She caught the line Barrels tossed her from the bow and wrapped it once around the top of the piling. She heaved on the line with all her might, knowing Locks and Plank did the same from further down. Securing the line, she turned to catch another from Stubby at mid-deck. A pirate could never be too safe in these seas; tropical storms erupted smart-like, and with little warning. That’s what Stubby said anyway. Truth was, they were pretty protected in their Zol inlet and Stubby fussed over Felicity too much. But it was better to humor him than listen to his woeful fretting for the next day.

  Ebba caught the final line from Grubby at the stern.

  “Right,” shouted Stubby from the wheel. “We have a day to stock up Felicity for six weeks.”

  “It will take us three weeks at most to return,” said Barrels as he disembarked Felicity. Pillage leaped down after him. Somehow the cat never seemed to trip Barrels. The rest of them weren’t so lucky. . . .

  “Yer plans be great, Barrels. But I like to be prepared.”

  Barrels contemplated him with a mild expression. “I do believe I’ve garnered that much about you in twenty years or so.” The two shared a grin.

  Ebba looked around the seven rustic shacks that made up their sanctuary.

  Locks said that when the time came to move here permanently—when they all retired—he’d build them something stronger. The shacks didn’t hold much, but the secret stores underneath them did: materials, preserved food, tools, and medicines. There was even a garden Barrels and Grubby tended to when they visited between trade runs.

  Zol was what she was supposed to keep in mind when other pirates ridiculed Felicity and her fathers. She was supposed to remember the joke was on them because they’d plunder and fight for the rest of their days; Felicity’s small appearance and the semi-honest living they did their best to uphold was all to “disguise their true cunning, and their secret pr’sperity”—according to Peg-leg.

  As her fathers went through the motions of trading and selling, gathering and stocking, each of them focused on retiring here, Ebba felt the brush of wind on her face, the rolling water underneath the ship, and the fierce excitement of the sea in her veins. And she knew she was a pirate. Felicity felt real to her. Yet sometimes she did feel caught between the life of a pirate and a common merchant. She was finding it harder and harder to shrug off the mean comments from others, though she knew better. And part of her felt guilty about that because all of this should be enough. If her fathers were happy, Ebba should be happy. Yet being a pirate made her happy, not their retirement plan.

  Sometimes, she felt trapped.

  “Can ye help Peg-leg restock the fruit and veggies, Ebba?” Plank asked.

  His eyes pleaded with her as she shot him a surly look.

  “Ye know he’s the nicest to ye, little nymph. And he’s sulkin’ that we won’t be able to dock and refill our stocks for a few weeks durin’ our trip.”

  Ebba groaned.

  “Come now, little nymph. Do this for yer favorite father.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and marched her down the pier. “Isn’t it good to be back? Not long now till we’ll be retired and wakin’ on the white beaches to eat coconut for breakfast each mornin’.”

  Ebba smiled until her cheeks hurt. “I can’t wait.”

  Thirteen

  Ebba sat back on her haunches, and ripped off Cosmo’s blindfold with one hand.

  He squinted at the sudden light. It probably hurt his eyes after a day and night under the dark cloth, but his face softened when he saw her sitting before him. The prince’s servant seemed awfully worried about her fathers—especially the one-legged Peg-leg and the one-eyed Locks. He watched the pair like they were fish flopping around on deck. Ebba guessed she’d look at King Montcroix the same way.

  “We’ve been moving for a while. Where are we going now? Why did we stop? Are you going to untie me?” he blurted.

  How different Cosmo was to Jagger. They were the only young males she’d spent any length of time with, and both were around her age. Cosmo had honor, for starters, and probably an education, but Ebba wouldn’t say he was smarter than Jagger. In fact, she’d say if both were marooned on an island, Jagger might be the only one left standing after a month. Cosmo’s smarts were like Barrels’ smarts. Not the kind that really helped you survive. Still, Ebba thought back to how he’d behaved at the governor’s party; Cosmo was kind-hearted and must have a measure of bravery to have done what he did that night. And maybe honor was worth more than survival smarts.

  Ebba ran her eyes over the servant’s face, the rich colors of his eyes and hair. She liked Cosmo. He’d given her a good feeling from the start. When they dropped him in Kentro, she hoped he wouldn’t forget her, and that he’d leave their ship no longer afraid of her fathers.

  “We’re out at sea again, off on an adventure to plunder a great booty,” she answered before wondering if she should be telling Cosmo that detail. Perhaps that hadn’t been wise.

  “Oh?” said Cosmo, his amber eyes fixed on her with the intensity of their first meeting. “Where?”

  Ebba waved vaguely, feeling the roll of the moving ship beneath her. “Through some razor-sharp rocks not many people’ve survived, after avoidin’ the whirlpool that sucks most ships into the oblivion. But that shouldn’t be a problem. We do it all the time on the way to Kentro. The whirlpool part anyway.”

  Cosmo smiled indulgently. “Your imagination is something to be envied. Why did we stop?” He trailed off as he looked at the bilge around him, which was now three-quarters full. “To restock,” he answered himself. “Where are we now, then?” he asked.

  Ebba brought her face close to his before leaning across to untie the rope holding him to the mast. She didn’t shift her gaze from his face. “That be a secret I can’t be sharin’ with ye.”

  He scanned her face and she dropped her eyes as the knot came away.

  “There,” she said, straightening. “Ye be free at last.”

  He winced, bending his knees before pulling himself up from the deck, gripping the hammock post until he was steady. He took a lot longer to get up than Jagger when they’d tied him up on main deck—and Cosmo’d been tied up for much less time.

&n
bsp; “Ye’re a bit soft, aren’t ye?” she observed, looking him up and down.

  “Excuse me?” Cosmo said around a laugh. “I’ve never been called soft in my life. I hunt and fish, and ride and fence.”

  Ebba picked at her teeth, shrugging. “Maybe all the people ye be doin’ that with are soft, too, and none o’ ye recognize the softness no more.”

  Cosmo paused. “You know, in a bizarre way that makes sense.”

  Ebba grabbed his warm, soft hand and pulled his hobbling form to the ladder. “Well, don’t worry. Ye’ll have muscle on ye afore long. Though I don’t think ye’ll be buildin’ any fences aboard this ship.”

  A puzzled look met her words before it cleared. “No, Mistress Fairisles, not that kind of fencing. Fencing, like . . . swordplay. That kind.”

  “Why call it fencin’ if ye ain’t buildin’ a fence? Why not call it swordin’?”

  His warm eyes filled with mirth. “I daresay you are right about that, too.”

  Ebba studied him. “I’m glad to see ye ain’t wholly useless. Up the ladder with ye.” She jerked her head.

  They emerged from the bilge.

  “Stubs,” Ebba bellowed. “I was lookin’ at Cosmo and thinkin’ he’d do well with some more muscle on him. What’d’ye think?”

  Stubby bent a leg up on the stern step. “Lookin’ at him, were ye?” he asked slowly. He turned his flat gaze to Cosmo.

  Ebba looked at Cosmo as the green color returned to his face. “Ye sick again? The sooner we get ye a golden hoop, the better.”

  Stubby smiled—manically, like the time with Jagger a week before—showing the three gaps in his teeth. “Aye, Ebba. I’d be happy to help Cosmo gain some muscle.”

  She pushed him toward Stubby and, satisfied he was in safe hands, she took a few bounding steps to the rigging and scampered to the top, swinging into the crow’s nest.

  Ebba looked about.

  In the stern, Pillage was stalking prey through the large coils of rope. Probably a mouse. Or his shadow. Idiot cat. To the east, a mere dot on the horizon now, was Zol. Directly west, before them and too far to see, was Charybdis. Stubby would steer them well clear of the whirlpool. Its pull spread for hundreds of yards from its black eye, and those caught in its current did not come out again.