Savior of Arcadia

by Annathesa Nikola Darksbane

  Everyone exchanged glances. Esmeralda shrugged. “You think I’m gonna let you walk away from this with all the gold and glory? Pffft. You’d have to chase me off this boat.” She grinned. “Besides, what would you do without me?”

  Samantha eyed her, a soft smile barely creasing her face.

  Jone nodded a moment later. “I already said I trust you. I will not turn back now.”

  Adie nodded along with her. “Yeah. Yeah. I’m in, it’s just all this cloak-an’-daggerin’s got my nerves up, is all.” She smiled, obviously still nervous.

  “Yeh gave me yer word,” Stewart responded. “I’ll follow Miss Jone an’ hold yeh to it. Just don’t make me regret it.”

  Jone blinked. Even after two days of association and planning, it seemed she’d made a better impression on the Highland chieftain than she’d thought.

  “More likely, he respected you before you set foot on his little island. Why else would he trust you to help him win over his own people?”

  “Then let’s get this started.” Bellamy raised her fist once more and rapped sharply on the wood. Somewhere, a hidden driver started a quiet engine, and as if of its own accord, the small black vessel lifted silently off the ground and sailed away into the night.

  Jone frowned, watching her tall, elegant friend. If I didn’t know better…

  “You’d think she was anxious about something?” Rote finished her thought, a nervous swirl of dark air that curled around the Arcadian’s neck.

  o o o

  Jone wasn’t sure when they made landfall. There was little talk during the voyage—unless one counted Rote’s intermittent chatter—and the silence stretched the trip out, making it feel much longer than a trip to Elizabethia strictly should have.

  “We’re here,” Bellamy said as the vessel scraped softly to a stop, her eyes alight with anticipation.

  “Then for the Abyss’ sake, let me out,” rumbled Stewart. “It’s like a sweaty pressure cooker in here, lass.”

  Bellamy unlatched the door. It fell open to reveal another dark space, full of shadows, water, and loose stones—and one which Jone recognized.

  Kind of.

  “We went through these tunnels with Drake,” Rote confirmed. “Similar ones, at least.”

  Yes, when he freed us from the Elizabethian dungeons. Through Rote’s expansive senses, she could feel the distant presence of thousands upon thousands of other spirits, suspended in captivity. Even if she hadn’t recognized the tunnels, that alone would have told her where they were.

  Stewart first, they extracted themselves from the tiny Nightship and stretched. In the back of her mind, Rote’s little alien face pinched in disgust, and Jone felt her own nose wrinkle in response. “You know, secret tunnels are fun. Secret storm runoff sewage tunnels, though? Not so much—”

  “Morgan?” Esmeralda’s voice, too loud and sudden for Jone’s comfort, nearly made her jump out of her boots, and she promptly slipped on slick stones and fell. Adie’s firm grip on the back of her breastplate stopped her inches from landing face-first in steamy, stinky runoff, and the girl smirked at her.

  Jone blushed.

  “You scoundrel!” The pirate continued. Jone righted herself and turned to see Esmeralda excitedly clasp arms with another dark-skinned pirate, grinning wildly. “You were our pilot?”

  The stranger nodded, mopping his forehead with his sleeve, and snorted. “As if anyone else could get you into a mess like this unnoticed. Try not to get yourselves killed—it’d make all my hard work a waste.” His dark eyes fell on Jone, and he tipped a floppy, wide-brimmed hat in her direction. “Good luck, milady. You’ll need it—especially while babysitting this one.”

  Esmeralda glared at the other pirate, but Bellamy grabbed her arm and dragged her away before she could retort.

  “Follow me.” With narrowed eyes fixed firmly on her unrepentant lover, Bellamy shushed them and kept them quiet for probably a mile or more as they trekked through the steamy, lightless underground. Their direction was straightforward, but their path wasn’t; twists, turns and crumbling corners left Jone lost and confused, right up until the tunnels suddenly opened up into a large chamber, deteriorated black stone blocks forming a small, vaulted ceiling like an old, forgotten cathedral.

  Jone froze. Across the candlelit chamber stood a woman with the face of an owl, and another, taller figure with the head of a garm.

  “Those are masks.” Rote informed her.

  Thanks, Rote. I’d recognize those “faces” anywhere, though.

  Jone glanced to Bellamy, the woman unreadable other than a thin smirk. None of the rest of her friends seemed familiar with the figures; Esmeralda stopped in her tracks, a hand lingering near her bandolier. At Jone’s other shoulder, Chieftain Stewart tensed, and his heavy mailed gauntlets creaked as he tightened his grip on his greatmace’s handle.

  “Sammie?” Adie began, her voice nervous.

  The Lady Bellamy didn't answer; she kept her eyes firmly ahead on the two figures.

  With a knowing smile, the owl took off her mask.

  “Mother,” Lady Grey said, tension in her steel-gray eyes.

  “Jane.” Bellamy stepped forward.

  The Lady Grey crossed the room in an instant and buried her head in her mother’s arms.

  Tears ran down Bellamy’s face as she lifted her daughter and spun her around. The chamber echoed with their laughter as they both tried to speak at once.

  “I can’t believe—”

  “It’s been so long!

  “After all this time—”

  “So many deceptions…”

  “So much fighting.”

  “Jane, I’m so sorry—”

  “Mother. I’m just glad—”

  They came to an abrupt standstill, staring at each other.

  “—That it’s finally over.” They said it together, smiles straining at their faces.

  Everyone else glanced at each other in silence, caught between confusion and a desire not to break the moment.

  “Holy shit,” Esmeralda spoke first, her tone disbelieving. “Is that actually your daughter?”

  “Don’t ruin th’ reunion,” Adie whacked her across the back of the head. “An’ don’t make me slap ya again for bein’ dense.”

  Esmeralda shrugged. “I always assumed she made her up.”

  Bellamy slapped her palm to her forehead and sighed, then took the opportunity to wipe away her tears.

  Jone shook her head. “Before Adie slaps me for being dense too,” she shuffled away from the other Arcadian, “Sam, what’s really going on?” She pointed at Lady Grey. “She was representing Drake back at the Highland camp, and she was so mean to you, and…”

  “It was a trick,” Stewart said slowly, relaxing his grip on the mace. “All of it. Just an act.” Slowly he nodded, an appreciative smile spreading across his face. “An act spannin’ one century an’ two Elizabethian rulers.”

  Bellamy grinned at them, mirth written across her fine features. “Centuries, actually.” The noblewoman gestured at her daughter, one arm wrapped tight around the slightly shorter woman’s shoulders. “This is our way into the Royal Tower. She is the way to Sir Francis Drake, to strike the head from the Elizabethian serpent.”

  Jone shook her head. She’d heard little of the taboo subject of Bellamy’s daughter over the years, and what she had heard was never good. Was this really why? To pull an elaborate con over on Elizabeth and Drake alike?

  “I… Well, crap. Don’t look at me. Looks like you found the one thing I didn’t know.”

  “You really don’t recognize me, Jonelise?” Lady Grey grinned. “I suppose I did look a bit different the last time we met.” From a heavy leather pouch at her hip, the younger Bellamy unfolded the familiar feathered mask again and put it to her face, staring out at Jone with eyes like clouded steel.

  “So… You really are the owl? From Sir Francis’ circle of traitors?” Jone blinked, still shaking her head in disbelief. “But I thought you died on the
Tower of Dover…”

  “We haven’t been able to see each other much over the years,” Bellamy squeezed her daughter’s shoulder. “But you don’t really think I would have neglected her education, do you?” She chuckled. “A little fall isn’t going to kill a Bellamy.”

  “And besides,” the Lady Grey added with a sly smirk, “whatever makes you think it was Sir Francis’ plan in the first place?” Samantha grinned along with her. “Mother just let him think it was his.”

  “So… this was your plot t’ overthrow the Queen?” Adie asked, putting a comforting hand on Jone’s arm. “When we got this close, you’d turn th’ tables and get us to Elizabeth?”

  “Actually, not quite,” Garm spoke for the first time, stripping off her fur-trimmed mask as she did so. Underneath was a hard-featured woman with stern hazel eyes and a ragged scar that ran along the jaw on one side of her face, and down across her throat on the other. “The original plan was to overthrow Drake, and to weaken Elizabeth enough to make her more pliable to reason. But he betrayed us.” She met Jone’s eyes with a firm respect. “When he freed you, that is.”

  Beside Jone, Stewart coughed and cleared his throat, eyes on Garm as he straightened his stance and puffed out his massive chest.

  Blinking, Jone glanced back at Garm and the Bellamys.“What do you mean? I still feel like I’m missing too many pieces of this puzzle.”

  “Well, I never planned on losing you, or Arcadia,” Bellamy said. “But as you know, plans never go perfectly. Drake tricked us all and sank you… And for a while, I thought I’d lost you.” Her smile turned sour and sad for a moment, and her daughter gave her an affectionate nudge. “And when his foray to the Core managed to capture you, he decided to use you as his weapon...and was far too successful.”

  Jone’s shoulders slumped. Adie squeezed at her again, while on the other side, Esmeralda leaned against her as a silent offer of support.

  “So…it wasn’t even the Queen that took war to my people those years ago. All of those ships and golems…that final push of destruction. That was Drake too.”

  Yeah. Looking for us. Jone swallowed a lump of regret. Not like Elizabeth was blameless, though.

  “Oh, no. Definitely not.” Rote boiled quietly at the back of her mind.

  “Ostensibly, the purpose of our group of conspirators was to overthrow Queen Elizabeth,” Garm continued. “And the Drake was a part of that. But unbeknownst to him, a few of us knew the real truth, and were part of an even deeper conspiracy.”

  “We always knew that Sir Francis was just as dangerous as my cousin,” added Samantha. “But she kept him in check. I never intended to allow him to seize power.”

  “But that’s where the attack on the tavern came in.” Garm’s eyes darkened. “ Five years ago, the assault that wiped out most of his allies? He planned that.” Jone blinked in shock. “He paid that slithering tavernkeep to fetch the guard partway through our meet. His soldiers. So that he could ambush his own thrice-cursed meeting, wipe out most of the loose ends, and drag you away in the chaos.”

  Jone took a deep breath, her mind reeling. “It kept him from having to justify his actions or get agreement from the rest of you. From there he simply had to point me at Elizabeth and push.” Now the memory tasted more sour than ever. “And if I’d somehow failed, most of the people that could have gone to the Queen with his true plans were dead.”

  “Exactly. Most of us died then and there, like he wanted,” Garm’s voice was a growl, not so dissimilar from her namesake. “Meanwhile, Raven and I were captured, and later used to pressure you into fighting Elizabeth.”

  Grey nodded. “There was nothing I could do but escape and follow along; I knew all along what Drake had done since it wasn’t part of our—or mother’s—plans. So the whole time, I knew he was waiting for a chance to get rid of me. Meanwhile, I was looking for a chance to strike back.” She shook her head. “But when our radio signal went out, the Queen called down lightning on the tower in response, and I barely survived.” Bellamy hugged her tight. “By the time I caught back up, it was far too late. Drake had already maneuvered you into fighting Elizabeth directly, and it was all over.”

  “So the threat to execute the prisoners,” Esmeralda cut in, “that was Drake?” She glanced at Jone. “Not Elizabeth at all, like you thought?”

  “It...makes sense. She didn’t know how long we’d been there; she didn’t know about the conspiracy trying to depose her...or even about my people.”

  So how could she have known who to arrest to get at me so quickly? He outmaneuvered her, too. Used us all like pieces on a board.

  “Exactly,” Garm answered the pirate, her voice heavy with years of anger. “He executed it just like one of his campaigns; he struck before we were ready and never gave us space to breathe before the final blow.” She shook her head, shaggy platinum hair flickering in the reflected candlelight. “I should have torn that man apart while his back was turned.”

  “Yeh couldn’t have known, lass,” Stewart spoke up unexpectedly. “In war, no one can plan for everything.” He smiled grimly. “But can yeh feel it? Tonight’s air is thick with vengeance, a time to even scores and put old wounds to rest.” He slapped the metal of his massive weapon against his palm. “Tonight, together, we settle our debts with a man who should be long dead, and make certain that this time, he stays that way.”

  Garm’s face cracked a hard, ragged smile, and she appraised the massive Highlander anew, and with a note of appreciation. “I suppose so.”

  “We should have known. I should have seen how it didn’t add up.” Rote swirled and steamed silently, stirring Jone’s hair. “I didn’t like Elizabeth or what she did. But I like being used even less.”

  A few weeks of torture and exhaustion will cloud the mind like that. Which is no doubt why he did it. Jone hesitated and looked toward the Elizabethian soldier. “What happened to Raven? You said she was captured, did she—”

  “She’s dead,” Garm said flatly. Her smile vanished. “Just not back then. She was a member of the Council of Lords—and my friend.” Her eyes were cold, hard hazel stones. “Drake had her hanged weeks ago.”

  “Time for vengeance, indeed,” Esmeralda commented quietly as she checked her bandoliers.

  “Okay, Sammie.” Releasing her grip on Jone’s arm, Adrienne planted mailed hands on curvy hips. “Why all th’ secrecy? You scared th’ shit outta me on the way here, I ain’t gonna lie.”

  Bellamy chuckled. “I’m sorry, Adie.” She sighed. “One part habit, one part necessity, I suppose?”

  “We haven’t spoken a word of our deception to anyone. Ever,” Lady Grey explained.

  Garm nodded. “Even we conspirators thought she hated her mother. It was a convincing act; we never knew Lady Samantha was directing our actions by proxy until I found out...” She glanced at the Lady Grey. “What? About three hours ago?”

  Grey chuckled. “I was betting on our friendship and your desire for revenge, since I needed your help. Otherwise I would have had to kill you.” Garm grunted. “But it’s a good thing mother had us preserve our secret so thoroughly. Drake found out everything else, after all, and used it against us.”

  Jone frowned. “Still...all those years… it couldn’t have been easy,”

  “It wasn’t,” both Bellamys said, almost in unison.

  Stewart’s chuckle swelled until his low roll of laughter nearly filled the room, like distant, amused thunder. He shrugged as all eyes fell on him. “I love a good trick,” he explained. “It’s like art.”

  “It’s probably not the most popular opinion, but...Elizabeth was actually very good to me,” Lady Grey said quietly. “She was mother's cousin; my aunt. I miss her. I wish we could have worked something out; that was the plan all along.”

  Jone was silent.

  “Still not your fault.”

  Then whose? Jone shot back.

  “You were used. Who’s at fault, the weapon or the wielder?”

  Maybe both, she replied
quietly.

  “For the rest of the explanation,” Bellamy took a deep breath, “I sat on the remnants of my conspiracy these last few years while we crushed all the outlying Elizabethian forces. I needed a base of operations to strike from, but more than that, I needed the perfect timing.”

  “You needed the Highlander alliance,” Adie nodded.

  “Of course yeh did,” Stewart thumped himself on the chestplate, the thick steel ringing like a dull bell.

  Jone took a deep breath too as her pre-combat anticipation began to build. “You’re stealing from the Old Dragon’s own tactics. He’s busy fortifying the outer defenses for when we strike from above. The ink on our treaty is barely dry; he won’t be expecting an attack at all, much less one from within.”

  The Lady Bellamy smiled.

  “And once we dispense with their Drake, the people will have no unified leader. We will crush their army from above and take Elizabethia.” Stewart clenched his great fist. “I will look forward to seeing those tables turn with my own eyes, after all these years.”

  “We will do no more than is necessary,” Jone gave the Highlander an unyielding stare. “We will not persecute the Elizabethian people, nor raze their cities. We are better than that.” She locked eyes with the big man. “I will accept nothing less.”

  “Agreed,” he replied immediately, much to Jone’s relief. “I’m a Highlander, Jonelise, not some barbarian.”

  Across the room, Garm chuckled.

  “So...since this ain’t the first time I been trompin’ through a set of forgotten steam tunnels,” Adrienne commented, “I’m guessin’ this is how we finally get the drop on th’ Drake?”

  “Long ago, Elizabeth had the tunnels that led to the Great Palace sealed or collapsed,” Lady Grey explained. “But she couldn’t close the whole tunnel network; it would have undermined half the foundations in the city. So many still remain, though the old routes are all but forgotten.”

  “At least, to those who aren’t a few hundred years old,” Bellamy grinned.