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

by Kelly St Clare

  Peg-leg said in a firm voice, “Eyes above the waist, lass. Eyes above the waist.”

  The seal-man barked again and the hundreds of seals surrounding Felicity’s crew began to morph in a blurring of gray. Cosmo gasped beside her, stepping closer to Ebba.

  “I reckon ye be seein’ and believin’ in magic now,” she said out the corner of her mouth. Honestly, Ebba was surprised how calm she was, but in Syraness she’d been utterly alone. Her fathers were with her right now, and that made her brave in comparison to the dark cliffs.

  “I reckon ye be right,” Cosmo said quietly. Ebba wasn’t even sure he realized he’d spoken pirate.

  The huge seal-man waited until the last seal had changed into a human form before facing them.

  “They be selkies,” Plank whispered. “Seal-men.”

  The man below snapped his eyes to Plank. “How do you come by our name, peasant?”

  Plank’s mouth shut with a click. He glanced at Barrels. “It talks.”

  Barrels shrugged. “I’m not sure that is the most pertinent issue right now.”

  “I dunno,” Peg-leg interjected. “It be botherin’ me when the magic creatures talk. Ladon spoke like a human, too.” Ebba began to nod, but stopped as the seal-man approached.

  “You dare to steal what we have zealously guarded for the last seven hundred and sixty-eight years?” the creature demanded. He glared at the object clutched in Cosmo’s hand.

  The treasure was worth something? That was good to know. She’d had her doubts after seeing the tarnished silver cylinder, but it must boil down to something worth a whole ship full of gold for seal-man to be so worked up about it.

  “We were only stealin’ it, Master Selkie, because someone else, someone worse be comin’ for it,” Plank explained.

  A pirate truth if she’d ever heard one.

  The selkie tossed his long black hair back, and Ebba watched as it rippled down his muscled back, her cheeks heating. He was prettier than half the women she’d met, but possessed a masculinity that made it impossible to tear her eyes from his form.

  She flushed anew when she noticed Cosmo watching her, a curious glint to his eyes.

  “We are aware of the ship which enters our cove,” the selkie snapped.

  They’d seen Felicity drop her anchor. That meant they’d watched Felicity’s crew since they entered Selkie’s Cove, waiting for the opportune moment to catch them in their net.

  All Ebba knew about Selkie’s Cove was that women having trouble conceiving would visit the waters for luck. She hadn’t actually known what a selkie was. But maybe their crew should start putting a bit more consideration into why places like Syraness and Selkie’s Cove were named the way they were.

  The man barked again, and the beautiful men filling the cave held their hands out in front of them. A light shimmered above their palms and Ebba gasped, shielding her eyes as it intensified to a bright flare.

  When she looked again, a shining silver spear sat in each selkie’s hand. In unison, the men pointed their weapons toward Felicity’s crew. Ebba took hold of Cosmo’s belt and wrenched him back to the pedestal.

  “Now, now.” Plank held up his hands. “I’m sure we can—”

  “We shall kill you and conceal the entrance once more,” the leader decided.

  He raised a single hand.

  . . . Grubby barked.

  The selkie leader whirled to the sound, leaping up onto the pedestal in one huge, effortless jump.

  He barked inquisitively. . . .

  Grubby barked back.

  Ebba and the others cast furtive looks at each other. Stubby cleared his throat politely.

  Shouting in joyful laughter, the selkie leader pulled Grubby into a fierce hug. “Kin,” he said, smiling. Disbelief settled over every occupant in the cavern—selkie and human, alike.

  What? Ebba took a step back, bumping against the pedestal.

  “Did the selkie just call Grubby ‘kin’?” whispered Locks.

  Ebba couldn’t take her eyes off the selkie embracing one of her fathers.

  “You’re part selkie,” the leader declared. “Why did you not tell me there was a selkie among you? It changes everything.” He barked over his shoulder and his army banished their weapons again in another shimmer of bright light.

  “I be a selkie?” Grubby asked, shaking his head as though dislodging water in his ears.

  The leader regarded him carefully. “You didn’t know? Surely, even as diluted as your blood is, there would be some sign. Your father would have displayed more of our traits, again.”

  Grubby’s ears lowered. “He ran off.”

  The leader barked in laughter. “We do have that reputation.”

  The selkie sounded almost proud of that. . . .

  Grubby blinked rapidly. “I’m a selkie?”

  Ebba blurted, “He’s a smart swimmer. Quicker than a shark.”

  The leader sniffed. “I would certainly hope so, pirate pup.”

  Who was he calling pirate pup? She bristled.

  He turned back to Grubby. “How long can you hold your breath underwater?”

  Grubby lifted his head, mouth slightly ajar. “I just come up when everyone else does. But I hold it real long when no one be around and I forget I should do it.”

  Peg-leg let out a pained wheeze. Barrels raised his eyebrows, mouthing, ‘He forgets to breathe.’

  “How long?” the seal-leader demanded.

  Grubby snatched his cap off and twisted it in his hands. “Few hours, I guess.” He wrung the cap, his eyes wide on the selkie leader.

  Ebba shared an amazed look with Plank. Hours? Grubby held his breath for hours? Maybe they should’ve been watching him more closely. Clearly, being hit with a mast had sloshed more of his skull grog out than they’d thought.

  “And how many willing females have you impregnated in our cove?” the man asked.

  Grubby face went blank.

  “Gotten with child,” Barrels supplied.

  Grubby’s face went bright red. “Oh, well. Uh. My tongue gets all twisted-like around women,” he said quietly.

  The leader waited.

  “None,” Grubby admitted. “I’m from Kentro, though.”

  The leader shied back in horror. Horrified shouts from the other seals filled the cavern.

  “None?” the leader asked, aghast. “At all?”

  “Are you sure he’s selkie, Kahree?” another of the gray selkies called.

  The expression on Kahree’s face said he wasn’t sure. “It is unusual, to be sure, and hideously embarrassing. . . .”

  “He’s not mine,” another called out.

  Grubby’s face burned brighter and Ebba whacked Locks on the back of the head. He looked like he was about to explode from holding in laughter.

  “I can hear ye, in my head,” Grubby said, shaking like a fluttering sail. “Ye were talkin’ to each other afore; that’s how I found the cave.”

  The selkie leader’s frown disappeared, and he clasped Grubby’s shoulder. “That settles it. Only one who shares our blood could do so. You are certainly our descendent.” He observed the rest of Felicity’s crew for a long moment, before gripping Grubby’s shoulder again. “You are one of us. And I must say . . . your sea-fellows do not seem to follow in the typical mold of human. Even the female wench is resisting our charm.”

  She’d take pirate pup, but not female wench. Ebba fisted her hands and opened her mouth. Barrels reached over and pinched her lips shut.

  “I shall disclose the entirety of the situation to you,” the leader said wearily. “For fear of the ship that has entered our cove.”

  “Felicity?” Ebba mumbled around Barrels’ fingers.

  Kahree stopped and gazed at her. “Your ship? The small one?”

  Ebba bristled again, but managed to keep her mouth shut.

  “No,” the leader said. “Another. Black with crimson sails. Much larger, and with an evilness about it that pollutes our ancient waters.”

  “M
alice,” Cosmo said darkly.

  Kahree nodded. “A fitting name for such a dark vessel. I have not felt such malignant evil since magic was ripped from this realm and locked away behind the wall. And it is no coincidence that they are headed to Portum, I feel it. They come to this cave to take the dynami.”

  The treasure had a name. Pockmark had searched for this specific object for four years. How had Malice’s captain even known the dynami existed? Or did Pockmark believe the plunder to be gems and gold as they had?

  “Dynami,” repeated Cosmo. “Like the far Dynami Sea?”

  “No, not like that. But what other name is there for the seas of this realm?”

  Cosmo rubbed his head. “King Montcroix renamed the western half of the Dynami Sea after his son about twenty years ago. It’s now the Caspian Sea.”

  The leader seemed surprised. “We have recently returned to this realm from our prison, though the dynami preceded us. Much has changed. When old magic reigned, the Dynami Sea was the only name for the ocean and the wonders it hid.”

  “Why have you returned now?” prompted Barrels. “We’ve come across a few other magical creatures. You mentioned a wall.” He said the words as if pained. Admitting magic existed probably did hurt his deep respect of books and logical things.

  The selkie dropped his arm from Grubby’s shoulder. “The walls that long locked immortals away from this realm steadily weakened over the centuries. Recently, the wall became too weak to contain my herd. We, possessing lesser powers than other magical creatures, found it easier to slip through the cracks than others,” he replied, the other selkies stirring restlessly.

  “That could be explainin’ why Ladon was flickerin’ in and out as he was,” Plank said.

  “Ladon is no kin of mine,” Kahree spat. “But like the rest of us, he is separated from the majority of his powers still. There was a day when a third of our number could have handled the evil entering our territory. But the wall still contains most of our magic, and we are no match for the power I sense is pushing Malice to this place. That power has been back far longer than us and has had time to grow in strength. It is not a risk I am willing to take. Separated as we are from the flow of old magic, I fear to die here would be to die in truth. And to let the dynami fall into the wrong hands would be worse than death itself. It was worse than death itself.” Kahree shuddered, and his face hardened as he surveyed them. “The wall will continue to weaken. Immortal creatures of greater power will return. In time, the selkie will be reunited with their full power. But how long the wall will take to crumble completely, I have little idea.”

  Ebba’s eyes rounded. “Ye mean the wall will go altogether?”

  Kahree nodded. “Magic will return in entirety. Tis only a matter of time.”

  The selkie watched Grubby intently. Their expressions changed—eyebrows lifted, mouths quirked, and eyes widened—as they silently spoke. As they conversed, a tear dripped from Grubby’s eye, and the shaking in his body slowly receded until he was still.

  “No,” Kahree said out loud at last. “The dynami cannot stay here. I do believe this is the right course.”

  Grubby looked fearful, but the other seals nodded.

  Kahree approached Cosmo and took the cylinder from him.

  “But why?” Plank asked. “Why has magic suddenly returned? I don’t understand.”

  The selkie shook his head. “I have no answer for you, mortal. Though I wish for one as much as your herd, for evil magic of the like I sense on the ship Malice was locked away for good reason. But whatever the explanation for the wall crumbling, as mere guardians the selkie are not privy to knowing it.”

  Shite. Ebba glanced at Plank and saw his lips were pressed together in a grim line.

  Ebba shifted restlessly until Kahree handed the treasure to Grubby. “I pass the dynami into your care, son of our kind. You are its guardian, you and the rest of your herd. May it lend you its namesake,” he said.

  Ebba stared at the object in Grubby’s hand. Were they daft? All of this nonsense over a silver tube with a rounded knob at one end and some swirly decorations down the side. “What does it do?” she asked.

  Plank yelped behind her. “Shite, the tide.”

  “You must go.” Kahree nodded. “Your bodies are not meant for the water.”

  That was an understatement. “Hold on,” she blurted loudly as the selkies began to shift back into seals, and the stink of fish filled the air once more. The crew of Felicity hadn’t come a whisker within death multiple times to still not know what the damn treasure was. “What is the dynami?” she called to Kahree.

  Her question appeared to puzzle him greatly. “What is the dynami?” He repeated.

  “Ebba!”

  She raised her head to see the rest of her crew were already halfway to the tunnel. “Aye, that’s what I said,” she said urgently. “What is it?”

  “But what do you mean? It’s in the name.” The selkie leader insisted. “The dynami.”

  “Ebba-Viva Wobbles Fairisles.”

  Sink her. He was full of helpful answers. Her fathers shouted a third time, and Ebba swung down to the rocky floor, wincing at the pang in her ribs. “Guess we’ll figure that out ourselves,” she muttered, striding for the exit. Useless seal.

  “Swim strong, pirate pup,” the selkie leader called after her. “And swim fast.”

  Twenty

  “How long did it take us to get in?” Peg-leg puffed, squeezing around the rocky protrusions as quickly as his wooden pin could carry him.

  Cosmo called back from the front, “Fifteen minutes or more.”

  Ebba’s gaze fell to the swirling water around their ankles.

  They hurried on, Ebba pulling Peg-leg through the tight gaps when needed. Yet soon the water had crept to their knees.

  “Hurry,” shouted Plank from behind her.

  The water pushed against them, fighting to come in as they shoved to get out. The tide twisted around their legs, and as it rose higher to their waists, each dragging step became a struggle.

  “There’s light ahead,” Cosmo called back, panting.

  Peg-leg turned sideways to sidle through a narrow space between two thick rock spikes. He grunted, shoving a few times. His eyes widened and met Ebba’s. “I be stuck again.”

  He pushed to get free without success. Ebba gripped his wrist and pulled with all her weight.

  . . . The cook didn’t budge.

  “Plank! Peg-leg be stuck.”

  “I can see that,” Plank answered from Peg-leg’s other side. “I’ll push him.”

  He rammed a few times against Peg-leg’s gut as Ebba pulled.

  Plank panted. “It’s no good. He’s jammed in there tighter than a cork in a thousand-year-old bottle o’ brandy. Locks!” he shouted. “Peg-leg be stuck again.”

  “Yer kiddin’?”

  Peg-leg thrashed to each side. “Nay! He ain’t kiddin’. If ye spent less time gabbin’, I’d be out already.”

  “If ye spent less time samplin’ yer cookin’, ye wouldn’t be stuck,” Locks replied.

  Peg-leg glared at him in the dark. “It’s my shirt. It’s thick material.”

  None of them laughed this time.

  The water surged over Ebba’s belly button.

  “All righty,” said Locks. He stood on one side of Peg-leg, clutching his arm, while Ebba bent and gripped him around his good knee. Plank would push from the other side.

  “Heave,” grunted Locks.

  There was nothing for a short moment, then the smallest shift. With a pop of a button, Peg-leg began to slide. He burst free, disappearing underwater on top of Locks.

  They emerged in a spluttering splash, and Plank wasted no time sliding between the two stalactites after him.

  The water was nearly to Ebba’s chest now.

  “Hurry,” came a cry from the exit.

  Locks wiped the water from his eyes and lunged for the end of the cave.

  Plank gripped Peg-leg by the collar and threw him in the
direction of the exit. “Move, ye gapin’ cods.”

  Ebba struggled after the cook.

  Their pace was tortuous. They were fifty yards from the cave’s entrance, but as the water lapped to her chest, and then her neck, nothing had ever seemed so far away. Her limbs moved as though they were ten times her weight, pushing at the water to help move her body forward.

  Salt water tickled the underside of her chin. “Quickly,” she gasped.

  Locks panted from the front. The walls closed in on them from every side. Ebba tilted her chin up to breathe in the remaining air pocket, still kicking in the direction of the exit.

  “Nearly there,” Locks called back. The others shouted from outside the cave.

  As Locks made it out, water crept in on the remaining space. Ebba took a last breath and dropped under the surface.

  Swim far, swim fast, pirate pup.

  White bubbles erupted in front of her as Peg-leg kicked. Ebba wriggled after him as hard as she could against the ocean’s current. It wanted to drag her back into the depths of the cave, to drown her. Her lungs burned, warning her the clock was ticking. She threw her arms out, dragging them through the water, kicking savagely, knowing Plank—behind her—had farther to swim than she.

  Her lungs tightened painfully.

  An arm thrust through the water and grabbed her under the arm, dragging her upright. She gasped for breath, wiping the salt water from her burning eyes to blink at Grubby. She whirled to look behind her.

  All seven of them waited, standing in the waist deep water outside the cove. The shingled beach was long gone.

  “Plank ain’t comin’,” Ebba whispered. “He’s not comin’!”

  Without a word, Grubby dove into the water.

  She started after him, but Stubby pulled her back. “Grubby can be holdin’ his breath, lass.”

  Her shoulders sagged. “Aye, that’s right.”

  Not long passed before Grubby reappeared with an unconscious Plank.

  “He ain’t breathin’,” Grubby muttered, dragging him through the water.

  Ebba swished toward him. “Here, this is what I did for Barrels when he weren’t breathin’.”