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

by Kelly St Clare

  She had no way of knowing how much time had passed.

  The cries and laughter of her fathers had turned to mourning screams and tearful pleading. They clawed at the night.

  Ebba did her best to ignore them as well. But there was one thing she couldn’t ignore.

  . . . The lanterns’ lights were dwindling.

  She’d denied it at first, unwilling to let despair overwhelm her, but the length of their beacon had steadily lost ground and now shone light a mere four yards in front of Felicity. To leave the helm and refill the lanterns with more fat was out of the question. Yet Ebba had no idea what she’d do when the lanterns ran out of fuel.

  A gale ripped through the darkness, and Felicity surged forward.

  Ebba’s eyes widened as she worked to keep her footing.

  The siren—as though sensing how close the crew were to meeting their doom—began to shriek her song, abandoning any pretense of grace and elegance.

  The creature had remained hidden, but now the magical being rose before Ebba.

  Blonde hair flowed to her waist, ruby red lips pulled back in a snarl. Ebba gazed upon the beautiful woman, who had skin of white feathers and the most captivating—

  A fist smashed across the right side of her face. Ebba cried out and stumbled to one knee, the pain blinding her.

  Did Stubby just hit her? She lifted a hand to clutch her jaw, and the siren giggled a high-pitched musical sound that did not belong in this realm.

  The hiss of spray sounded up ahead.

  Shite, the ship. Lurching to her feet, Ebba shoved a snarling Stubby aside.

  Seawater erupted high into the air in front of the bowsprit.

  Ignoring her throbbing jaw and the siren floating in front of her, she pulled right on the wheel with all her might, a harsh cry leaving her lips. Felicity groaned, tossing erratically with the sudden shift. The wheel spun faster and faster; Ebba followed it, her hands blurring before her.

  The ship dropped into a swell, and she clung to the wheel for dear life, too deathly afraid to make a sound.

  A terrible scraping noise came from the starboard side. Eyes round, Ebba could only listen in cold despair as the rocks tore at Felicity’s side.

  Stubby snapped at her, incoherently. She shoved him away again, but that wasn’t going to fix the issue when he was tied to the wheel she had to use. His face twisted into a snarl. His eyes were flooded with black. Had she not been standing next to him this entire time, she might not recognize her own father.

  Ebba evaded the erratic swing of his fist, spinning the wheel the other way as spray slapped her in the face.

  She couldn’t risk Stubby hitting her again. If she lost consciousness, they’d all be victims to the siren’s nest.

  Ebba ducked down to pick up an oar and stepped closer to Stubby, bringing the flattened end down atop his head.

  His eyes rolled back, and he crumpled to the deck in a heap.

  She swayed on the spot for a moment, wiping at the blood oozing down her temple. Ebba blinked away the blurriness in her right eye.

  At least the siren was gone—though her screaming song still echoed from all directions.

  Ebba rested against the wheel, staring at the swell and erupting seawater ahead. Burning hopelessness filled her as her tired green eyes fell upon the weak six-foot shine of light from the lanterns.

  She watched, weary beyond measure as the light shrank to three feet.

  Then half. . . .

  “Someone please wake up.” Her voice broke as she called to her fathers.

  Tears trickled slowly from her eyes, and horror washed over her like a wave, splitting across her dread like the water on the rocks.

  The lanterns flickered.

  The flames inside shrank and surged pitifully. And weakened.

  And with a final sputter. . . .

  The lights went out.

  Sixteen

  Ebba stared into the pitch-black darkness where light had been only seconds before.

  Her hands shook so hard she could barely grip the spokes of the wheel.

  The light was gone. She didn’t know what to do.

  The siren’s lament rose to a feverish chant, beating at her and disorienting her sense of where the cliff faces were. The cruel bird-like beauty rose before her once more. Ebba’s breath coming fast, she grabbed the oar at her feet and swiped it at the siren, screaming. The wood passed through her.

  “Bugger off, bird-lady,” she snapped, furious. “No one gives a shite a warrior pissed ye off.”

  The siren screamed and flew at her, jaws wide. Ebba flung up an arm, crying out as talons ripped across her forearm.

  She clutched at her arm, searching wildly for the siren, but the creature had disappeared for the moment. Blood seeped between her fingers, and she reached for her tunic to tear off a strip, but a rushing noise had her dropping both arms to her side.

  What was that sound?

  Stubby reared to her left, his eyes a soulless black and a dagger in his hand.

  “Stubby!” she shouted. Where was the damn oar?

  The rushing noise grew louder, but Ebba couldn’t take her eyes off her possessed father.

  There was a loud pinging sound behind Stubby, and her eyes rounded as the boom—broken free of its restraints—careened toward them. Ebba winced as it smacked into the back of his head. He fell to his knees and Ebba ducked as the boom bowled past to the port side.

  Stubby swayed, his black eyes closing as he slumped unconscious against the deck.

  How did the boom get free?

  The rushing noise had grown to overwhelming levels, overriding even the siren’s song.

  Abandoning the helm, she raced to the bulwark and stared over. So far, the ocean’s current had pushed Felicity through the cliff passage littered with jagged rocks.

  Not anymore.

  Time seemed to stop as Felicity’s bow jutted off the edge of a waterfall into thin air. A waterfall! Ebba couldn’t see the bottom of the black drop, but could hear the water pounding far below. How was it possible for a waterfall to be in the middle of the ocean? Her fathers would have mentioned it to her if they’d known. So where had the drop come from? Was this magic, too?

  Felicity groaned and Ebba sprinted for the port rigging and weaved her arms and legs through the squares, clinging on for dear life, hoping her fathers were secure enough.

  The ship hovered for an age at the precipice of the waterfall, before—with a deep groan from Felicity’s hull—the ship tilted forward, inch by inch.

  Ebba knew with horrible certainty the ship would soon tilt over the edge. But not knowing what came next was worse; how far would they fall? Into what? Would the ship and the crew survive? The fear-laden questions raced through her mind as the ship whined, finally leaning out past the point of no return.

  Felicity began to free-fall, and Ebba’s gut surged from her feet to her mouth.

  Ebba squeezed her eyes shut as the wind tore past her, whipping her dreads in disarray. Felicity slanted as they fell, and soon the ship was completely vertical. They were plummeting to their doom face-first. Would Felicity’s bow split upon impact? Would the knotted ropes holding her fathers to the ship withstand the jolt at the bottom?

  “Hold on!” she screamed, hoping some deep recess in her fathers’ minds might register her warning.

  Wood shrieked, air rushed through her ears, and there was a mighty crack as Felicity plunged into water, submerging the entire deck and its crew.

  Ebba was ripped from the rigging.

  She flailed under the water, thrashing for the surface. White bubbles blocked her view; her clothing and weapons dragged her down. Solid ground came up to meet her from underneath—the deck!

  Her lungs threatened to explode. Black shadows began to dot her vision, just as the ship burst through out of the water in a massive roar.

  Ebba was flung against the wheel before rolling back to rest at the rear of the stern.

  She lay on her back, gasping for breath,
too stunned to react as water poured from Felicity’s deck out of the scuppers.

  Coughing, she rose onto all fours and peered under her arm at Stubby. Flat on his back. Still.

  Clutching her right side, Ebba crawled to her father and rolled him onto his side, thumping him on his back until he coughed up water. He didn’t regain consciousness, but he was breathing.

  She rested against the wheel, listening as the rush of the waterfall began to fade behind them. The siren’s wail had died off for now. Ebba glanced up, trying to gain her bearings.

  The waterfall had dropped them into some kind of cavern. A big one, judging by the way the sound of the hammering water was echoing in the space. The current that had pushed them through the cliff passages at the top of the fall was still here. She could feel its tug under the ship.

  Which meant there was no time to rest. She had no idea how long they’d be in this cavern or if there was another magical booby trap waiting ahead.

  Ebba needed to move.

  She groaned and rose to stand. First priority: checking on her fathers and Cosmo. Without them, there wasn’t any point. She left the helm and stumbled to the mast. Plank’s eyes were open, his chest rising and falling. A quick search told her he wasn’t bleeding.

  She staggered on to the main deck. Peg-leg was—amazingly—still standing and staring up at the waterfall, presumably where the siren sat.

  Would the siren wait to see if the crew were dead, or alive before resuming her call?

  Taking a wide berth around Peg-leg, Ebba hurried to the bow.

  Barrels and Locks would’ve suffered the worst impact. Sure enough, both lay still. Locks was unconscious, his eye patch sitting askew, but breathing. Barrels, however, had a wide gash in his shoulder and was neither breathing, nor conscious. She rolled him and thumped him, like she had with Stubby, to no avail.

  She listened to his chest. His ticker was still going. Just. Why wasn’t he breathing? Deliberating for a brief moment, she wound up her arm and socked him in the gut.

  Barrels projectile vomited across the deck.

  Ebba reached over to pat him on the back as he choked.

  She tore off her sash, shucking the weapons from it, and tied it tightly around his bleeding shoulder.

  It would have to do.

  She stared at the splintered front of the ship as she knotted the silk tight. The bowsprit was gone, explaining the intense splitting noise she’d heard upon impact.

  Were they taking on water below?

  Ebba hovered, unsure if she had time to search the hull.

  . . . Just a quick look. Ebba jumped down to the main deck, pressing an arm into her side, and ripped open the bilge door.

  She shrieked at the sight of Cosmo standing there, his eyes flooded with black. Ebba slammed the bilge door closed, wincing as a series of thuds from the other side told her the possessed servant had tumbled down the ladder.

  Opening the door again, she strained her ears for any sound of water rushing below.

  . . . Nothing. If there was a leak, it wasn’t major . . . yet.

  As Cosmo moved to climb the ladder once more, Ebba slammed the door, ensuring it was secure, and headed back to the helm as fast as she could. Normal Cosmo was no threat. A snarling Cosmo with black eyes was friggin’ terrifying. One more unspeakable terror on top of the terror that clutched her tight in its grip.

  But she couldn’t think about the darkness again and the rocks.

  She snapped to a standstill. Shite! The lanterns! She should’ve been filling the damn lanterns. But Barrels hadn’t been breathing. Ebba’s chest rose and fell. There wasn’t even a bowsprit to hang the lanterns from anymore. The plunge from the waterfall had snapped it clean off.

  Her mind spun on the verge of panic.

  Grubby! She’d forgotten about him.

  Her eyes searched the crow’s nest. Where was—? There! Relief coursed through her. He’d been thrown over the side, but swung by the rope around his waist.

  It’d have to do for now.

  Ebba returned to the helm, swiping Stubby’s weapons and tucking them in her own belt. She wound the two yards of free rope around his legs, so the man wouldn’t be able to stand and attack her if he regained consciousness again.

  She could barely hear the waterfall now, but the sudden hiss of spray ahead was as dreadful to Ebba as the siren’s lament. The walls of the cavern were narrowing into the cliff passages she’d sailed through before the waterfall.

  There were another two days left until the end. And she had no lanterns to guide her.

  The despair in her chest widened and her hope began to dim.

  To flicker.

  To darken like the slick walls that would be the tomb of Felicity’s crew because she’d failed.

  She jolted, screaming as three blaring beacons erupted before the ship, and threw up an arm to shield her face.

  Nothing happened.

  Eyes watering, she peered over her arm.

  Ebba could make out three white lights. The glowing circles flared where the ship’s bowsprit had been before, exactly where the lanterns had been placed. The beacons floated in thin air, illuminating much more of the rocky path ahead than the weak lanterns had done. Where had they come from?

  Ebba whirled to look behind her at a soft chittering sound.

  She stared, mouth ajar as a tiny, winged creature, several of them, pulled the boom back to where the sheet holding it firm had snapped just in time to stop Stubby from knifing her. . . . Then before her eyes, two creatures held the severed ends together and, with a burst of white light, fixed the sheet to hold the boom in place.

  Magic.

  The creatures took up position at the bow while another of the winged beings hovered in front of the wheel. The creatures at the bow chittered, and the one in front of her nodded curtly, then waved her hand in front of Ebba’s face, pointing urgently to the left.

  Not quite believing this wasn’t an effect of being hit in the head several times, Ebba spun the wheel left. “Enough?” she croaked.

  The creature chittered over her shoulder, waiting for a reply, then shook her head, pointing left again. Ebba swallowed and spun the wheel more. A minute later, Felicity sailed past a jagged rock extending two yards above the rolling water.

  Ebba wavered on the spot, bloodied, battered, and tired from fear and lack of sleep, and the creature surged forward, slapping her several times in the face.

  They’d just sailed over a magical waterfall to escape a vengeful bird stuck in a beautiful woman’s body, and now tiny winged creatures were lighting the way. Ebba’s mind threatened to explode with the unknown. But she blinked several times, regulating her breathing through sheer determination. No matter what Sherry or Cosmo thought, Ebba was never happier to have experience in forcing away a torrent of unanswered questions attacking her mind than in that moment. She forced the last dregs of her frenzied panic aside to focus on the task at hand.

  She was going to save her fathers.

  The siren’s lament filled the dark cavern again and Ebba gritted her teeth, steadying herself. She tightened her grip upon the splintered spokes of Felicity’s helm.

  And as one of the winged creatures perched on her shoulder, hope flickered within her, the tiniest bit stronger than before.

  Seventeen

  She wasn’t in her hammock. She knew because no hammock, especially not hers, had ever felt so uncomfortable in her life. That was until Ebba shifted and discovered the pain wasn’t from the hammock, but from her body. She groaned deeply, unsure whether to clutch her head, or her ribs. Actually, raising her arm might be impossible right now.

  “Try to stay still, Ebba-Viva,” whispered a deep voice.

  Locks.

  Ebba was glad he was okay. She frowned. Why wouldn’t he be?

  Somehow she convinced her eyes to open. Focusing her blurry vision was another matter again. Finally, the sleeping quarters of Felicity came into view, as did the very concerned faces of five of her fathers a
nd Cosmo.

  Something didn’t add up. Darkness. Rushing water.

  “The siren,” she said hollowly.

  Plank nodded, his face tight. “Aye, little nymph. Do ye remember any o’ it?”

  Did she remember Stubby’s black eyes and the terrible beauty of the siren hovering before her? Her eyes fell to her bandaged forearm. Did she remember the siren’s talons sinking into her flesh? The terror of falling and crashing into the unknown? The horror of thinking she might die alone, or lose her fathers? Did she remember the winged creatures who helped her?

  Aye, she did. She remembered it all in vivid, horrible detail.

  Ebba swallowed. “I don’t wish to speak o’ it yet,” she said quietly.

  Locks’ emerald eye regarded her, though he didn’t comment. “Aye, lass. We can understand that.” He leaned over and picked up her hand, kissing the back of it. “We be here with ye now, and we’re all right. Pillage be a scant spooked and isn’t leavin’ the hold just yet, but he’ll be fine in time.”

  “Where are we?” she asked, her throat burning as she forced the words out.

  Cosmo appeared with a goblet of grog.

  Peg-leg snatched it from him and held her head up, trickling the liquid carefully into her mouth.

  “Less than an hour from Portum, but with two days of repairs to make before we can set sail again,” answered Barrels. “You got us through, my dear. None of us recall anything after the morning of the second day. Not until we woke on the other side of Syraness, bloodied and confused, yesterday morning.”

  “Ye were still behind the helm,” Grubby’s voice cracked.

  Locks gripped his shoulder and turned back to her. “Ye were at that, lass. Ye wouldn’t speak. Ye just stared ahead, adjustin’ the helm as needed. Ye clutched to the wheel so tight, it took four o’ us to remove yer hands from it.”

  Ebba’s eyes filled as she stared down at her bandaged fingers and palms.

  “Took a while to get all the splinters out,” Plank said softly. “As soon as we took ye from the helm, ye collapsed.”

  Peg-leg sniffed, blinking furiously. “And no wonder, awake three nights and two days straight, workin’ a ship by herself through who knows what. No food or drink in her.” He cut off and busied himself retying her bandage.