Ebba burst into tears, great warm droplets falling freely from both eyes. “I be a tribesperson. How could ye never tell me I wasn’t one o’ ye?” Her voice rose to a shout. When that didn’t prove enough, she kicked the thick-latticed bamboo wall holding them prisoner. Ebba shook the wall in hopeless fury. “I don’t belong anywhere!” She fell on her butt and sobbed, a hand clutching the space over her heart. “I hate ye all so much for lyin’.”
Not a one of her fathers could answer, it seemed, though every one of them now cried, too.
Why had they lied to her? She’d thought she was theirs, that they were a family. What they’d done hadn’t been to protect her; it had been to protect themselves. They’d lied to cover who they’d been because they were too afraid to look their regrets in the eye. And Ebba could understand that. She regretted her decision to tell her fathers about Pockmark’s treasure back on Maltu all the time. That decision had caused them unending strife, and she never ceased feeling guilty over it, even though the decision couldn’t be changed. Yet she’d never avoid talking about that regret if it meant one of her fathers would be hurt for her hiding it away. Pretending about such things was cruelty, not kindness.
“Ye made the wrong choice when ye decided to keep me.” She got back to her feet, wiping her face. “And I know I’ve made wrong choices afore too. I ain’t sayin’ I haven’t. But ye lied to me for near-on eighteen years because ye were too scared to come clean. Ye’ve lied to me my whole life. How do I know if anythin’ ye’ve ever told me be true?”
“We’re sorry, lass,” Peg-leg whispered. “So very sorry.”
That was all they had to say? That wasn’t good enough.
Soul heavy, her heart in shreds, Ebba strode away from her fathers and the marae toward the forest.
Nikora blocked her path. She should’ve known he’d be close by. But someone behind her shoved the warrior out of the way.
Ebba kept going, walking aimlessly. Hating herself and them, and herself for hating them, and most of all, hating that she couldn’t hate them in peace. A log caught her eye, ferns sprouting out behind it, and Ebba sat heavily, head aching from blubbering so much. Stupid sods.
The tribe wanted to welcome her into their fold tonight. Half of the words coming out of her mouth offended them. Ebba didn’t see herself living here, and yet the only chance to save Cosmo seemed to require her to do so. Added to that, Ebba no longer felt she belonged on Felicity, so where did she belong?
. . . And what was she going to do?
Sixteen
Someone screeched in Ebba’s ear.
If the screech hadn’t been accompanied by a glowing ball of white light, Ebba might not have turned to look. She’d been sat on a log in the forest for hours.
“Sally,” Ebba cried. In gentle hands, she gathered the wind sprite to her chest and hugged her as best she could hug such a tiny thing.
Sally bit her.
“Ow!”
The sprite hovered in front of Ebba, gesturing to a bump on her head, then shaking her fist. In the ten minutes that followed, Sally mimed a torturous three-day journey through the bush, fraught with many dangers that apparently included fanged beasts.
Ebba sighed when the sprite was done. “Sorry, Sal. I thought they were Malice pirates, and I was tryin’ to keep ye safe. I didn’t mean to bump yer noggin’.”
The sprite stopped and seemed to see Ebba for the first time. She floated up and hugged Ebba’s face, making a worried noise in her throat.
“Aye, it’s been a shite three days.” Ebba gave the sprite a condensed version that was half cussing words, finishing with, “I’m glad ye’re here. Plus, I have a feelin’ the purgium be somewhere this way. If I’m goin’ to join the tribe, I’d rather do it because I want to, not because Cosmo be sick. Let’s search for it. Cosmo’s all I have left, and he’s starting to get scary ill.”
They began to wander through the red-brown trees.
“Hey, Sal? Have ye ever heard o’ the taint?” Ebba asked.
Cross-legged, the sprite floated beside her. She whirred again, nodding several times, and then drew a finger across her throat. She proceeded to dramatically die before floating alongside Ebba on her back.
. . . “Right.” Ebba blinked and faced forward. “Not good, I’m takin’.”
“I’ll be honest,” Ebba continued. “I was hopin’ there’d be an obvious path to it. Or torches. Maybe those monster carvings.” She stared around the uniform trees. “This may be harder than I thought.” The trees were really uniform. “Also, I’m lost.”
Sally’s jaw dropped open, and she came upright in the air, stiff as a plank. It made her look a bit demented and ghoulish, what with the three twigs already snarled in her glowing white hair, and the tears in her tiny toga.
“Ye wouldn’t know the way to the hut, would ye?”
The sprite rounded on her.
“What kind of pet are ye? Fly up above the bloody trees and have a scout.”
In a blurring flash, Sally darted forward and booted her in the kneecap.
“Fiery ring o’ a spice-lovin’ tavern wench!” Ebba howled.
“No luck findin’ the purgium, I see,” a low voice said.
Ebba whirled, clutching her knee. “Jagger, ye slimy cur. Why don’t ye jingle a bloody bell when ye’re walkin’ up.”
His eyes gleamed in the dying light. “Then I wouldn’t be able to overhear yer convers’tions.”
Heat flooded her face, and Ebba opened her mouth to deliver a tongue-lashing.
“Cosmo fell asleep and hasn’t woken up,” he said.
Ebba straightened, her anger draining away. “What? When did he fall asleep?”
“After attackin’ Nikora. Nikora knocked the weak sack of shite clean out. He should’ve woken up, but he hasn’t. Started screamin’ a while after. Makes me want to put a pillow over his face and finish him off.”
Ebba’s insides chilled, and she gestured for Sally to hop aboard. The sprite crawled underneath her dreads, hugging the back of her neck. “Show me back to the huts,” she ordered Jagger with a flourishing wave.
“Ye ain’t goin’ to keep searchin’ for the purgium then? What does it do, anyhow?”
She ignored the last question. “Do ye think I’m goin’ to find it out here? I’m better to hold a knife to Aroha’s throat and get her to lead me there.”
“Ye would do that to yer mother?”
“She ain’t my mother. I don’t have one.” If anything Felicity was her mother.
“Yer fathers ain’t yer fathers. Yer mother ain’t yer mother. Ye ain’t a pirate. Ye ain’t a tribesperson. Ye ain’t a lot of things. So what does that leave?”
His words dug at fresh wounds. “When ye figure it out, Licks, let me know.” She frowned at the thought. “Ye’re white and lived in a tribe. But ye don’t live in a tribe anymore.” It was almost the exact opposite of her predicament.
“So?’
“So,” she urged, “how did that happen? Are ye a tribesperson or a pirate now?”
Jagger pushed aside a fern. He was quiet as they walked, and then grunted. “Ye know what ye are.”
“Ye’re avoidin’ the question,” Ebba replied. “Do ye even know yerself?” Were they both confused?
He frowned at her over his shoulder. “Ye’re just hurt and overreactin’ about yer fathers lyin’.”
“Ye really think that?” She stared at the feather cape that covered his back. “It don’t seem that way to me. If I be feelin’ hurt, then sumpin’ has been done to make that hurt happen. Am I not s’posed to react at all? Is that what ye mean? If that ain’t the case, I’m not overreactin’; I’m just reactin’.” She shrugged. “I’m allowed to be as hurt as someone’s made me hurt. And they hurt me bad.”
Jagger didn’t reply, continuing leading her in a direction she hoped was taking her closer to the huts, and not away to murder her and suck the good stuff out of her thigh bones.
“He in his hut?” she asked as they exited the tre
es and rounded the marae.
“Aye.”
Ebba left him behind, running ahead. It was possible both Aroha and the chief called after her when she ran straight past them on the river path, but Ebba didn’t stop. Night had fallen, and she supposed this meant the ceremony thing would start soon. Her friend was running out of time, and so was she.
As she got closer, screaming rent the air. Cosmo! She took the stairs of his hut two at a time, spurred faster by agonized sound.
It was a repeat of last night. Cosmo writhed on his bedroll, drenched with sweat, screaming through a throat ripped raw. Stubby had talked about wanting to shift entire islands to make her stop crying. That was what the sound of Cosmo’s screams made her feel. Spotting a full bucket, she lunged for it.
“They tried that three times,” Jagger said from the door, his breath slightly faster after he’d apparently run behind her.
Ebba dropped to her knees and shook him. “Cosmo, Cosmo. Wake up, matey. Ye be screechin’ something awful. Cosmo!” She shouted in his ear and shook him again. Sally peeked out from behind her dreads and made a tiny sound of dismay upon seeing him.
“Ye shouldn’t touch him,” Jagger said. “He could be contagious-like by now. Ye could catch the taint too.”
She didn’t care about catching the stupid taint. “He really won’t wake up.” Ebba rocked back on her heels. There’d been signs up until this point he was weakening, but when Cosmo could talk and smile, it was easier to pretend there was time to bring the tribe around to handing over the purgium.
Already fearful of her next action, Ebba peeled back the neck of his soaked tunic to look at the mark.
“Nay,” she whispered at the ugly mess of lines directly over his heart. “He was s’posed to have another week. Ye said he’d have longer.” Ebba glanced over her shoulder at Jagger. He crossed his arms over his muscled chest, making his tattoos dance.
“Some people go faster, some slower,” he said. “Some a few days and some months. But he’s still screamin’.”
“That’s s’posed to be a good thing?” she asked, incredulous. She replaced the neck of Cosmo’s tunic, resting a hand against his forehead. He was so cold.
Jagger lifted a shoulder. “It’s when they go quiet, ye know they’re close.”
She faced him, leaving a hand on Cosmo’s forehead. “Close to what?”
The pirate shuddered, though his face didn’t change. “Endless night.”
Ebba repeated Verity’s words. “A slave to the darkness.”
Surprise colored Jagger’s reply. “Aye, exactly that.”
Pushing off her knees, she rose, watching Cosmo twist and arch on the mattress as he screamed. “I’d hoped to keep things nice-like.”
“What are ye goin’ to do?” Jagger asked warily.
She shook her head. Best for him not to know she had no idea.
“Ye don’t have a plan, do ye?”
Ebba scoffed. “Aye, I do. But it ain’t for the likes of ye to hear. Can ye stay by his side and mind him until I’m back? I don’t think he should be alone. It makes him feel better to have someone near.”
“He’s quieter when ye’re here.”
“Don’t ye ever just agree?” she asked in frustration.
He smirked, but walked to the wall opposite to Cosmo. He pulled out a dagger and the stupid carving he refused to show her and sank to the ground. He set into his chipping. “Aye, I can sit here with him. Best spot to watch him die.”
“Ye’re messed up sumpin’ fierce, Jagger.” But she’d take his offer—not like she had another option.
Ebba marched to the door with Sally in tow against her neck. “And ye say that, but ye saved him from drownin’ and helped him get back to the marae. Heck, ye prob’ly even brought him back here. Ye sure watchin’ him die is what ye’re doin’?”
Didn’t seem that way to her.
First, she retrieved the dynami. Her current desperation would likely result in her shaking up the place and a few people. Better to shake up the place powerful-like to scare off any cowards.
“Any ideas, Sal?” Ebba asked.
The sprite shook her head left and right against her neck.
“Ebba,” Aroha stomped up to her. As much as an ethereal person like Aroha could stomp, anyway. The result was akin to the normal walk of an everyday person.
The tribeswoman burst into a furious torrent in her own language. “Where have you been?” Her expression turned to horror as she took in Ebba’s state. “You haven’t bathed. You aren’t in the clothes I set on your bed.”
The thing she used to wipe the sweat off her face five minutes ago? “Uh, it was gone. Look, I—”
Aroha gripped her upper arm in an iron grip and began dragging her in the direction of the marae. Cosmo’s screams were only thin here, but still audible. She had to save him. The searing tingle of the dynami spread beneath the ties of her beaded skirt, but Ebba didn’t use the power it offered to dig her heels in and throw her mother off. Not yet.
Her skull rum scrambled for words as Aroha ushered her up the stairs, waiting with sighing-impatience as Ebba washed her filthy feet in the bucket.
The chief was blatantly aghast at her appearance when she entered the room. Ebba waved at everyone. “Ahoy, tribespeople.”
The marae was as full as she’d ever seen it. Crammed with the tribe, all of whom appeared to have dressed in their finest. Beaded skirts still prevailed, but the women had layers and layers of beads, and the men wore large bone necklaces with carvings on them. Ebba probably looked rather dirty and poor in comparison.
She quickly formulated a plan, and spoke.
“I’ll become part of yer tribe if ye let me use the purgium on Cosmo. Take the deal or I walk.”
Those who could speak pirate-Exosian gaped at her. If Ebba hadn’t been daughter to their leaders, she wondered if the tribe would be on the floor laughing.
In fact, light laughter sounded from her right.
From her mother.
Cosmo had said she was the unyielding one, and he’d been right. Her amusement was light, but underneath it was a sea of steel. She didn’t think Ebba’s announcement was funny at all, though the woman laughed. Aroha was absolutely you-stole-my-best-feathered-cape furious.
The woman stood back, hands in fists by her sides. “If it comes to that, we cannot accept you here. I hope you will not walk away from all we have to offer. You must understand, the tribe will continue to faithfully guard that which we hold sacred.”
The chief had left his middle spot and bore down on Ebba in a furious wall of middle-aged man.
“Aroha, toku ngakau,” he said. “She is not of us. Her blood is our blood, but her heart is not of our hearts. I have said before that she has no mana left. She does not hold anything sacred.”
“She is our daughter,” Aroha said, tears gathering.
Not again.
“Once she was our daughter,” he said. At least he sounded a little sad. Maybe just tired. “I will never regain the mana I lost the day I wasn’t there to protect my wife.” He held Ebba’s eyes. “And my beloved daughter, my little princess. But she is not our daughter any longer. She is their daughter. It is why you cling to this ceremony and to her so strongly. My love, you must let her go.”
“Chief.” Nikora rushed through the entrance and to the chief’s side. He spoke in a low voice in his ear, and everyone remained hushed.
What was happening? Was it time to edge away?
The chief glanced at Ebba, brown eyes hard. “You led them here,” he said, stepping closer.
“Who?” she asked, wrinkling her nose.
“Pirates have killed one of our scout parties,” the chief said. He spoke to Nikora. “What did the survivor say?”
Nikora bowed his head in front of the chief. “They left him alive on purpose. The others. . . .” He shuddered. “Rangi was told to pass on a message to the chief of the Pleo tribe: ‘You have something we want. An object of power.’ They said that we have two ho
urs to deliver this to them, or the crew of Malice will attack and kill every man, woman, and child. None shall be left living.”
There wasn’t much wriggle room in that.
Aroha rounded on her now. “You brought this upon us.”
Ebba rolled her eyes as the woman began to pace.
“We use the six pirates in lockup and trade their lives for our safety,” Aroha said, halting.
These people seemed to think pirates met up for monthly tea parties. Judging by the nods and murmurs of agreement, a lot of people thought that. But Ebba wondered if Aroha was right. How could Pockmark know about the purgium? He’d merely said ‘object of power’ in his message to the chief. Was he here for the dynami without any idea of the tribe’s sacred object? If so, Malice’s presence here was certainly the fault of their crew, and hugely inconvenient. Ebba didn’t want the lives of the tribe on her conscience.
Her stomach clenched as Cosmo screamed again in the distance.
“That won’t work,” Ebba said to Aroha. “There ain’t no love lost between Malice and Felicity. Malice has hunted us for months.”
Nikora stepped forward. “Then the pirates can be used as a bartering chip. We can give these pirates their enemy.”
Sally’s sigh sounded in her ear, but the heat, so easily raised in the last few days, was beginning to rise up Ebba’s chest. The murmurs of agreement in the marae were a lot more like shouts now. Warriors were picking up their spears and stalking to the door. Toward her. Toward her ex-crewmembers.
The heat rose up to her chin.
The warriors were heading to free her fathers only to hand them over to Malice. To Pockmark.
The steam coursing through her veins was scalding, and pushed higher and higher. If anyone was going to hand her fathers over, it would damn well be her.
Ebba spun into the entrance, and the line of warriors striding to exit shied back, glancing at the chief with clear confusion.
“Stop, ye flamin’ sods,” she snarled. “Ye’ll be handin’ over my fathers to Pockmark over my dead, rottin’ body.”
Ebba-Viva Fairisles: Stolen Princess (Pirates of Felicity Book 2) Page 18