He began to scream.
“Uh-oh,” Plank said, standing. “He can’t be doin’ that right now.”
Ebba rushed in as the purgium dragged in the last mouthful of taint. The dark cloud around him disappeared, and Cosmo crumpled to the ground, utterly quiet and still. The purgium rolled off his chest. Grabbing either side of his face, she propped open Cosmo’s eyes. “Is he okay?” she asked Locks, resident carpenter and sometimes surgeon.
Locks shrugged and pulled back Cosmo’s tunic. The black had disappeared completely, but that wasn’t what made the pirate whistle low.
She gasped as her father held up Cosmo’s tunic sleeve.
It was empty.
Peg-leg fell to his knees. “The purgium took his arm,” he said softly. The pirate stared down at the russet-haired mainlander, who appeared to have lost most of his body weight in the last few days.
“He’ll blame me,” Ebba said in a tiny voice. “He didn’t want to lose his arm. Remember at the soothsayer’s?”
“Ebba,” Locks said sharply with a glance at Jagger.
She fell mute. Locks didn’t want Jagger to know about Verity.
Ebba stared at the space that used to hold Cosmo’s arm, mouth dry from her horror, and guilt took her in its grip. It held her fast. Cosmo was going to hate her when he woke up. Her only friend. A person who’d never hurt a fly. Ebba kicked the purgium away with a shout, watching it roll into the shadows of a stilt. “Soddin’ thing.”
“Poopoo-cuckoo did warn us,” Plank said. He shook his head sadly.
“You saw Papatuanuku?” Jagger asked, lifting his head.
Plank shrugged a shoulder. “Aye—”
A pistol cocked.
Several of them.
“Fancy meetin’ the crew of Felicity here.”
Ebba and Jagger spun. As did her fathers, still dusting themselves off after being flung to the ground.
Jagger was the first to unfreeze. “Took ye long enough.”
Swindles and Riot stood just beyond the tree line with their pistols pointed at Ebba and her fathers. Four other Malice pirates stood behind them, pistols also raised. Six against eight, not including Cosmo, but Ebba doubted there were more than a few bullets left between her crew, even with the extra pistols they’d plundered.
Swindles scowled at Jagger. “Toss us yer weapons,” he ordered. “All o’ them.”
The sounds of battle still echoed from further in the village center. Had Swindles and Riot been making a runner for it? Probably. Cowardly scupper rats.
Ebba gritted her teeth as she and her fathers chucked their cutlasses and pistols to the ground, and the two pirates darted forward to collect them.
“What’re ye doin’ here? Yer meant to be gettin’ the plunder back,” Riot demanded.
Jagger sauntered behind Ebba, pressing the small of her back to squeeze by as he did so. Ebba glared at him, stepping forward. He’d been after the dynami this whole time on Pockmark’s orders? He’d faked the whole conversation on Febribus? She’d thought he wanted to go back to Neos for his family. Was that all a cover to steal the dynami back? Was that why he’d appeared to get over hearing of his family’s death so quickly?
“Aye.” Jagger crossed his arms, now standing between the two pirate crews. “And I have.”
Riot stepped forward, peering at the ground. “Who’s that?”
The four other crewmembers behind him craned to get a look.
Ebba blocked their view of Cosmo. “Back off.” The pirate’s face twisted, and he lifted his pistol to her face.
“Never mind her, Riot. It seems today be a lucky day for us.” Swindles smirked. “Ye have sumpin’ our captain be wantin’. A lot, in fact. I be thinkin’ he’ll be right happy with us for gettin’ it back, instead o’ his precious Jagger. About time he sees ye for the scum ye are. What say ye, Riot?” He glanced toward the marae as a menacing roar rent the air.
Riot grinned and lowered his pistol. “I say aye.”
Ebba looked at Jagger. “Not many people like ye.”
Silver eyes met hers. “The plunder be called the dynami, and they have it on them,” he announced to Swindles, face unchanging.
“Which one has it?” Swindles said. “Don’t ye expect to take the glory, either. Ye’ve been with them for over a week and haven’t stolen it. If ye try, I’ll stick a knife under yer ribs as ye sleep.”
“Ye can try. Last time, it didn’t end so well for ye, did it?” The silver eyes dragged away from Ebba’s to settle on Swindles’ face, and then a purple-faced Riot. Jagger cut off their blustering replies, “It doesn’t matter, anyway. Fish lips has it.”
Ebba glanced around. No, she didn’t. She darted a look at Grubby. He had it. Silver eyes traced her look to Grubby and then came back to rest on her. No way. Jagger did not just use her Pillage trick on her. His eyes continued to rest on her, and Ebba got the very strong feeling Jagger was trying to tell her something. But what? Why hadn’t he mentioned the purgium to the Malice pirates? She felt the itch to glance to where it lay on the ground in the shadows of Cosmo’s body, but wasn’t about to make the same mistake twice. Plus, Jagger knew where the purgium was.
The flaxen-haired pirate leaned against one of the house foundations. “The dynami be in fish lips’ belt.”
Enough with the fish lips thing.
Swindles and Riot were on her before she could shout. Her fathers rushed to intervene, but not before Riot gave her a savage punch in the gut, and Swindles had a pistol to her head. The other four Malice pirates took a threatening couple of steps forward, clearly ready to take her fathers on if need be.
“Nuh-uh,” Swindles warned her fathers. “Back off now, quiet-like.”
Ebba gasped for air. “That’s what ye said last time afore I schooled ye in a swordfight.”
A blow to her face had her seeing a hundred wind sprites. “That all ye got?” She grinned, spitting out blood, and waited for the next hit.
One of the other Malice pirates called, “It’s gone awful quiet back there, Swins.”
“Aye,” the pirate replied darkly. “We need to leave.” He spun Ebba to face away and wrenched something out of the back of her belt. What?
She did her best not to look at Jagger. What was he playing at?
Ebba turned back and glanced down at the object in Swindles’ hands.
. . . It was the carving Jagger had been working on. It looked nothing like either the dynami or the purgium. The carving was the likeness of a woman, her skin covered with vines and flowers. Jagger made that?
“This be it?” Riot said in confusion. “Shouldn’t it be shiny?”
His words made Ebba realize what Jagger meant to do. The pirates from Malice didn’t know what the plunder looked like. “Give that back,” she snarled, lunging for the carving. Riot shoved her to the ground and kicked her savagely in the side.
Her fathers stared at the carving, and Grubby peered down at his sash before lifting his head in confusion. “That do—”
Plank elbowed him in the gut roughly under the guise of pushing close to Swindles. “Ye don’t know what ye’re messin’ with. For the right person, that unlocks sumpin’ more powerful than ye’ve ever seen.”
Grubby didn’t look like he knew what was going on, but had the sense to stay quiet as the rest of her fathers shouted at Swindles to put the dynami down and back away. Jagger shoved Peg-leg and Plank in an attempt to shut them up. He passed Grubby, punching him in the side. Ebba gasped as Grubby doubled over.
Jagger wound back to stand between the crews again, tucking his tunic into his slops as he neared the two burly leaders.
“How do we be knowin’ it’s the real deal?” Riot said.
“Ye heard the man,” Jagger gave Plank a dismissive glare. “It works for the right person. Gives them strength and power beyond measure. Try it.”
Swindles gripped the carving and punched the hut stilt.
“Maybe it’ll work for Riot,” Jagger suggested.
The car
ving exchanged hands and Riot punched the same stilt.
Peg-leg snorted behind Ebba.
“It ain’t workin’!” Riot accused. “Ye’re trickin’ us.”
With a sigh, Jagger held out his hand. “Here, it works for me.”
Riot placed the carving in Jagger’s hand. The flaxen pirate focused hard on the carving of the woman. Without warning, he snapped his fist out and caught Riot square in the nose. It was like the pirate was picked up and thrown. Riot crumpled in a heap fifteen feet from where he’d previously stood.
The pirates of Malice stared at Jagger in shock.
“How did ye do that?” Swindles said finally.
Jagger tossed him the carving, appearing bored. “With that, ye fool. How do ye think? Have ye ever seen me do that afore?”
Swindles looked between the carving in his hand and Riot, then grinned. “Boys, it looks like we’re feastin’ tonight!” The four other pirates in his small gang smirked. Two of them picked up Riot, who for all intents and purposes appeared dead, aside from the rise and fall of his chest.
A shout sounded close by and Swindles ducked his head. He pointed his weapon at Ebba’s face, and Jagger held up a hand, though he didn’t move to stand between her and the gun. “Ye do that and every warrior still standin’ will be on us in the next ten seconds. We need to slip back into the forest and run for the ship. We don’t stand a chance without a head start.”
“Pockmark wants them dead,” hissed Swindles. The manic light in his eyes let her know that he wanted it too.
The manic edge to his expression made Ebba notice how different Jagger now looked in comparison to the other Malice pirates. His cheeks had filled in, his skin was golden, and the area under his eyes was no longer marred by black shadows. The whites of his eyes didn’t have a slight yellow tinge. What did Pockmark do to them on that ship?
“Mercer be wantin’ the dynami more,” Jagger said, rounding on Swindles, making the smaller pirate edge away. “He’ll be furious if he hears ye risked that.”
“And ye plan to tell him?”
“Aye, ye know no one keeps a secret on Malice and lives to tell the story.”
Shouts sounded from closer again, and Swindles lowered his weapon, glaring at the others. “Ye attempt to follow us, and I’ll shoot ye between the eyes.”
“Give me one o’ yer guns,” Jagger demanded.
It was hard to tell who was higher in command. Ebba had heard Jagger say he was Mercer’s second, but clearly the other pirates didn’t like that fact.
“Now,” Jagger repeated. Swindles handed over one of his silver and gold pistols, then with one last warning glare at Ebba and her fathers, he turned and sprinted after the other pirates.
Jagger stared at the gun in his hands, apparently not worried about the crew of Felicity at his back. He cocked the weapon and turned it toward him as though to peer down the barrel. Why was he doing that? Ebba held her breath, their conversation about pistols coming back to her from long ago. They’d joked about it then, but the way he studied the weapon right now wasn’t funny at all. He wasn’t going to use that on himself, was he?
“Are ye sayin’ ye threw the pistol away that I gave ye on the ship, but ye won’t throw a pistol away from the likes of Swindles?” Ebba forced out. “I’m insulted.”
Jagger jerked and half-turned to look back at her before staring at the pistol again. Blinking several times, he then released the hammer, his indiscernible look back in place.
She’d never been sure about Jagger—whether he was good or bad or just a pirate. He’d approached their crew on Pockmark’s orders, apparently, but judging by that look he’d just given the gun, Jagger feared returning to Malice.
Did that mean he’d been working against Pockmark and really had intended to return to his family?
“Ye never did tell me why ye’re called Licks,” she said in another bid to keep his attention off the pistol.
He blinked his silver eyes, focusing on her face, almost seeming to trace it. “I be the only member of Malice’s crew to survive one hundred and fifty lashes.”
Ebba’s stomach churned, threatening to rise up through her throat.
He held her gaze and she realized he’d never once let her see his back. Though he’d been walking around shirtless for several days, he’d kept his back covered with the feathered cape.
She wanted to say something, to apologize for some reason, but no words rose to her lips.
Breaking their stare, the flaxen-haired pirate reached behind his back and drew out the dynami from his belt, dropping it on the grass under the hut.
Jagger strode off after Swindles and the others.
Back to Malice.
Twenty-One
The sun was high in the sky now, and Ebba doubted anyone had slept since the sun was high in the sky yesterday.
The crew of Felicity sat in a row along the far wall of the marae, Cosmo unconscious on the wooden floor before them, his left sleeve empty of an arm. Nikora sat on the ground beside Ebba, a bandage around his upper thigh where a bullet had skimmed him. Last night, fifty warriors had returned from the main battle at the north end to protect the village, Nikora included. There had been more than enough of them to cause the scoundrels to flee. Soon after, the pirates attacking at the north end of the tribal lands had turned tail and run. Barrels suspected they’d been informed that the dynami had been secured. There weren’t enough uninjured warriors to chase after them and slaughter the lot.
Ebba was only glad for Jagger’s sake.
When Jagger socked Grubby in the gut, he’d slipped the dynami from her father’s sash. He’d stashed the dynami in the back of his belt and tricked Swindles and Riot, keeping the two magic cylinders from Pockmark by doing so.
No one keeps a secret on Malice and lives to tell the story. Yet Jagger meant to keep a secret. Or did he know he couldn’t? Was that why he’d stared at that gun in that way? Ebba couldn’t stop thinking about him peering down the barrel.
“What are the women doin’?” she asked Nikora.
His eyes met hers before he looked into the center of the marae. The entrance was demolished, thanks to Locks. Grubby had removed the carving from the entrance sometime in the night, using the dynami, and the pirates who were trapped inside were now minus a head and burning with the other slain enemies. Barrels hadn’t let her watch, and she’d been glad. Aroha said that was how they dealt with their foe. The enemies’ bodies wouldn’t be allowed to go back into the soil to live again. The chief said their heads would fetch a good price once properly dried and preserved. The tribe was a clash of intense spirituality and fierce brutality.
“They are laying out our dead,” he answered.
She glanced to where the bodies had been arranged in rows and washed. Families of the deceased crouched next to their loved ones, circlets of large leaves around their heads. Though she’d sighted one or two tearful faces over the last few hours, there was much more laughing and joking going on.
“How are they so . . . happy?” Ebba asked, a wrinkle between her brows.
Nikora smiled. “We do not see death as you do, Rangatira. It is customary for us to discuss a person’s faults and virtues when they die, to laugh about the things they did, and the mistakes they made during their life. These warriors protected their families. Their mana is powerful and will go with them to the next life, and the ones after. We are strong for them because they were strong for us.”
“When will they be buried?” The tribe’s acceptance over losing their loved ones didn’t sit right with Ebba. The sight of the sixty dead men made her want to bawl her eyes out.
Pockmark hadn’t come for the purgium. He’d come after them, for the dynami. Sixty men had died because their crew had come to save one man’s life.
“We will stay by their side for three days,” he answered. “They will be buried on the third.”
Ebba swallowed the lump in her throat with difficulty. Nikora rested a hand on her arm. “We have triumphed ove
r an evil, and our women and children are safe when it might have been otherwise. You are now guardian to our sacred object, relieving us of a great honor that was also a great burden.”
“I’m glad ye got back in time to warn the chief,” she said in a hoarse voice. Many more lives could have been lost. Maybe none of them would be sitting here right now. The Earth Mother had talked about possibilities and paths set in motion centuries ago. If that was so, could this carnage have been avoided? When Ebba followed Swindles and Riot into the alley on Maltu two months ago, was that preordained? Would Pockmark always have attacked the tribe, regardless of the dynami’s presence here?
When she’d stood on the shore of Kentro, deciding whether to toss the dynami out to sea, she’d had a feeling that something huge was triggered by taking Pockmark’s treasure. Now there was talk of an evil greater than the cruel Malice captain. One that could affect the realm—and Zol. If the murky path they were on was already decided, was there any point denying what lay ahead? Would they be pushed there against their will anyway?
And if her fathers kept denying fate, what would the consequence be?
“Do ye know if Malice be gone yet, lad?” Stubby leaned forward to look at Nikora.
Twenty warriors left in the middle of the night to make sure the evil pirates were gone for good.
Nikora shook his head, grimacing as he shifted his leg. “The warriors will remain out until it is time to bury our dead to be sure the pirates are really gone. They will send a runner back with news in time, but it is many hours’ walk to the northern end where their ship waits.”
Ebba drew a hand over her face. Her body was wrung out, but her mind wouldn’t rest. There was too much to think about. Cosmo losing an arm. Everything the Earth Mother had sprouted. Her fathers’ lies. Malice now having two reasons to come after them. If Jagger couldn’t keep the secret about the purgium, Pockmark would be pushing even harder to hunt them down. The dynami and purgium looked too similar for mere coincidence. The cylinders were linked somehow. She was willing to bet that the parts would somehow lead them to the root of magic—or at least help to protect them as they searched. Why else would the Earth Mother have been happy to see the dynami as well?
Ebba-Viva Fairisles: Stolen Princess (Pirates of Felicity Book 2) Page 24