Tales From Thac

by F P Spirit et al.

Dodger’s eyes narrowed to slits at the sound of her mocking tone, and quick as a flash, he rolled over on top of her and pinned her to the bed. “Do not mock me, sea wench!” he threatened. “You both may have gotten the better of me once, but by the gods, he’ll taste my steel, as will anyone who gets in my way!”

  The pirate princess looked up at him and smiled as if she didn’t have a care in the world.

  “That so?” she asked brightly, and in an instant, Dodger found their positions reversed. Now it was he who was pinned to the bed, only this time he was face down, with his head pulled back and the Black Pearl’s dagger at his neck.

  “Lesson one, my foolish little hero,” she said, leaning down to whisper malevolently into his ear, “Never threaten anyone unless you are absolutely sure you can carry out your threat. Savvy?”

  Dodger gulped audibly. “Yes.”

  Mor’Findl sat back up, withdrawing her dagger from his neck. “Good, because I really like these sheets and would hate to ruin them with your blood. Now tell me who it is that has earned all your enmity.”

  Dodger rolled right side up and looked over at her. She was all sweetness again, but just beneath the surface, he could sense how cold, hard, and dangerous she was, and in that moment, he was reminded of Lord Flynn’s finely forged razor-sharp blade and the beautifully ornate scabbard he carried it in.

  He sighed and let out a deep breath. There was little point now in keeping any secrets from her, and he found himself telling her all about Miranda, her father, Lord Wraithbone, and what the evil man had done to each of them.

  The Black Pearl listened without comment until Dodger had finished his tale.

  “So you’ve vowed to kill Lord Wraithbone, a man even the Parthian emperor fears, for kidnapping your love?”

  Dodger nodded yes.

  Mor’Findl laughed a humorless laugh, got up from the bed, and moved to retrieve her dressing gown.

  Despite himself, Dodger found himself momentarily distracted by the swing of her hips and rhythmic way the cheeks of her bottom moved as she walked across the room.

  “I should call you ‘Little Fool,’” she began, pulling the gown over her head and covering her naked form. “Because anyone who thinks he can take on a man like Lord Wraithbone, alone, without an army at his back is either delusional or insane. Even the pirate clans with all our amassed power won’t dare cross him. It’s said his powers are second only to that of the Thrall Lords themselves! So you might as well resign yourself to the fact that this love of yours is lost, and stay with me as part of my crew. I can always use a cabin boy to warm my bed. And if you’re half as good with a blade as you think you are, then, you’ll definitely stand a better chance of survival with me than chasing after a necro-magi like Wraithbone all by your lonesome.”

  “And if I choose not to?” Dodger asked.

  Mor’Findl looked back at him and smiled predatorily. “You’re assuming you have a choice. You don’t. You can either stay with me, here, above decks, seeing to my needs, or serve me below decks, bound by enchanted shackles to an oar for the rest of your existence. The choice is yours.”

  Dodger didn’t relish the idea of going back to being a galley slave, and the thought of spending more time in Mor’Findl’s bed had its definite appeal, yet he knew he couldn’t stay, even if he wanted to.

  “Either is a death sentence for me,” he told her after the briefest of considerations. “I have to go. I think I’ll die if I don’t… I gave her my word.”

  “The word of a cut-purse?”

  “A cut-purse, perhaps, but I do love her,” he said forlornly. “I think I finally understand what her father meant when he used to constantly tell me that your word is the only precious thing nobody can take from you.”

  The Black Pearl scoffed at that remark. “Then you are a Little Fool,” she said. “Look where all his honor and his word got him! Food for maggots! Do you want to end up like that?”

  Dodger shook his head no.

  Mor’Findl slowly walked back over and sat down on the bed next to him. “Look, my Little Fool,” she said gently, placing a hand on his chest. “Ne’er I’ve seen someone with such promise to become a great pirate. Under my tutelage, you could go far with the Sphyrenas. Perhaps even someday commanding your own ship, standing tall and proud alongside my brother and all the other captains who fly the silver barracuda on an azure flag.”

  Dodger took her hand from his chest and held it in his hand. “I appreciate the offer, I really do,” he said looking at her with big, sorrowful green eyes. “But I can’t.”

  Mor’Findl let out an exasperated sigh and withdrew her hand from his. “Let me make this easy for you, Little Fool. Your love is gone, and so is the object of your revenge…”

  “What do you mean?” Dodger asked, confused.

  “Your mortal enemy was trading with us to retrieve an artifact that was supposed to lead him to Mad Emperor Narodon’s missing seventh tower. To activate it, he needed the soul of an innocent, which I presume is why he wanted your lover…”

  “Then I have to go! NOW!” Dodger exclaimed, practically leaping off the bed.

  “It’s too late,” the Black Pearl said, stopping him before he could take another step. “We saw him begin to use it as we sailed away. His ship and his minions have all vanished and no one has seen him since.”

  “But… but…” he sputtered. “I promised…”

  “And so you did,” she agreed. “But you failed…”

  “I can’t have!” Dodger protested. “He might not have killed her! He could have just trapped her soul! It’s possible she’s still alive!”

  “Might have, could have, possible?” she asked him, her voice taking on a hard, cold edge. “Stop trying to delude yourself,” she scolded. “She’s gone. You failed her, and it’s time you come to terms with it!”

  Dodger didn’t want to believe it. He couldn’t have failed her. He couldn’t let go of that tiny spark of hope in his heart, that somehow, some way, Miranda was still alive and awaiting his rescue.

  “How?” he asked bitterly. “Just how exactly am I supposed to do that?”

  “By forgetting her.”

  “Forgetting her?” he asked incredulously. Forgetting her! I’m not like you, I just can’t do that!”

  “Then it’s high time you become just like me!” she spat back. “Look, Little Fool, life is cruel and often short—you of all people should understand that by now. You need to learn to roll with the wind and the waves, or else be capsized and pulled to a watery grave. You need to learn to take pleasure whenever and with whomever you can, because there’s no guarantee you’ll be around tomorrow!”

  Dodger slowly sat back down on the edge of her bed. “I don’t think I can do that,” he muttered dejectedly.

  The Black Pearl smiled inwardly, seeing the wind disappear from his sails. He was alone now, floundering and adrift like a ship with no rudder in a gale. She was adept at commandeering such vessels and giving them direction again.

  “Then stay with me,” she whispered into his ear as she wrapped her arms gently around his sagging shoulders. “Become part of my crew, and I will teach you.”

  Dodger looked at her with a blank stare and nodded. “Then teach me,” he said. “Teach me to do what you do. Teach me to forget.”

  Epilogue

  “He can’t have forgotten!” the younger sister cried, hands balled into fists and shaking her head back and forth, making her long, tightly curled, golden locks dance about her small head. “He just can’t have!”

  “Oh, don’t be such a ninny!” the brash twelve-year-old admonished his younger compatriot. “Everyone knows he didn’t.”

  “I would not be so sure, my young lord,” the Old Bard interrupted, trying to reset the mood so his listeners could once again become lost in his story. “For such was the Black Pearl’s allure that many a man was convinced to take up arms against his own kith and kin by a single glance from her.

  “You see, our friend Donatello did f
orget, at least for a while. He accepted Mor’Findl’s offer, binding himself to her service by taking hold of a barracuda tooth she wore around her neck—for this was no ordinary tooth. It was enchanted, and symbolized her right to command one of her clan’s ships of the line. Anyone touching that tooth and willingly agreeing to join that pirate band was branded with a silhouette of a barracuda over their heart.”

  “But Donatello didn’t have a tattoo like that over his heart,” protested the older sister.

  The Old Bard nodded in agreement. “You are correct, M’lady, he did not. But when he was the Black Pearl’s cabin boy and known to the crew of The Spirit of the Sea as ‘Little Fool,’ he did.”

  “Then what happened to it?” the youngest child asked. “How’d he get rid of it?”

  “Why, by saving the life of Mor’Findl herself,” The Old Bard said, gently tapping the child on the tip of her nose. “But that, my dear, is another story.”

  Fortune Tellers

  K.J. Fogelman

  Fortune Tellers

  THERE I WAS…

  Standing on the edge of a steep precipice, staring down at the twinkling torch lights of a carnival some distance below me. It was one hour past midnight, a perfect time for jumping and ending it all.

  What I meant was, ending the chase of the guard who was charging up behind me on horseback.

  “Hold it right there, thief!” his voice bellowed from the darkness.

  I glanced back at the guard, smiled, and gave him a special one-finger salute before gracefully falling backward over the edge of the cliff.

  Okay, okay—it wasn’t that dramatic. My foot slipped on a stone, I tripped over my own feet, fell, and then gave him the salute. But that doesn’t sound as dramatic, does it?

  As I tumbled through the air, I rubbed a ring on my finger. Suddenly I became light as a feather and began to float. Righting myself as best as I could, I spied a plump haystack and angled my body toward it. Only, about a hundred feet away from it, I realized it wasn’t a haystack, but a giant pile of straw mixed with something smelly I most certainly did not want to land in.

  Let’s just say that, in my desperation, I did some flailing, kicking, maybe a little cursing, and sailed right into the top of a tent. Thankfully, most carnival tents are very sturdy and made to hold back a lot of weight and weather. Unfortunately, this tent was not one of those, and with a loud rrrrip I fell right through.

  I landed in the middle of a meeting between three people. There may have been some groaning on my part. When I opened my eyes, they were all hovering over me, providing me with a good opportunity to look them over—one was obviously the ringmaster, the other a fortune teller, and the last a fire-eater.

  The fortune teller was the most interesting, and held my gaze with her violet eyes, golden hair, perfect lips, just the right amount of cleavage—eye-candy all the way around, if you’re into blondes. Her strange violet eyes unnerved me, but I had played lots of staring games before, and I refused to be the first to blink. After holding my gaze for a good long moment, the fortune teller gave me the strangest smile.

  “Looking for a job, sweetie?” she asked, her eyes sparkling as if with a hidden secret.

  I glanced at the other two, both men. I hopped up to my feet, squared my shoulders, and…

  Okay, okay—I stood slowly, with lots of groaning, aching, and popping of joints. I brushed my tattered skirts off and straightened my shoulders with much grimacing.

  The ringmaster stroked his black mustache, trying not to laugh as he looked me up and down. “Sorry, girl, but I already have someone for the magic act. However, if you would like to audition for the clown act…”

  During this time, an idea had been forming in my head. I needed to get out of town for special reasons, as alluded to earlier. What better way to do that than to run away and join the circus?

  Thankfully, I had used a bit of magic to change my appearance before my less-than-graceful landing. I stroked my now frizzy, strawberry-blonde hair, trying to make it lay flat, rather than spread to the four corners of the earth. “I’m awful sorry, sir. I was told you’d have a job for me.” I lied like a trained professional. “I’ll take any job you have. I’m a hard worker.”

  An amused smile flashed across the ringmaster’s face. “Sorry, but I don’t believe good help just falls out of the sky.” His levity quickly died away as the fortune teller stepped up and began to circle me.

  A moment of silence slipped by, then she grabbed my hand, looked at my palm, and traced the lines on it.

  The ringmaster shifted on his feet. “What do you see, Elistra?”

  The fortune teller peered at me and winked, then faced him. “I must take her as my assistant.”

  “Aw, but I wanted her as my assistant!” The fire-eater hurried forward, grabbing a strand of my hair. “Do you realize what kind of fire tricks I could do with this haystack?”

  I jerked away from him and slapped his hand. “Hey! Who do ya think you are?”

  “I’m Qualar, and I think your hair is fabulous.” His green eyes were fixated on the frizzy blonde mass atop my head.

  “Not for burnin’, it ain’t.” I scooted closer to Elistra.

  Qualar waved his hands in the air dramatically. “Not burning—Fire tricks! There’s a difference.”

  I turned to Elistra. “Please save me from the fire maniac.”

  The ringmaster cleared his throat loudly. “I don’t pay for stray puppies.”

  Elistra raised an eyebrow. “You don’t pay any of us, actually.”

  He shrugged. “I make sure you have enough to eat. I don’t see a reason to feed her, too.”

  “I’ll take care of her needs.”

  The ringmaster motioned Elistra to join him at another corner of the tent. The two stepped to the side and lowered their voices. I could tell he took the fortune teller seriously, but wanted a legitimate reason to keep me around. Couldn’t say I blamed him.

  “When you aren’t busy assisting Elistra with her mind readin’, future tellin’ ways, you wanna come do some fire tricks with me?” Qualar edged closer, leaned on his fire stick, and smiled.

  “Um,” I frowned as I looked him over. “Pass.”

  His smile fell. “Why not? Fire tricks are fun!”

  I waved my finger in a circle, motioning at his face. “You’ve got crazy written all over your mug, and it makes my hair cringe in fear.”

  Qualar squinted one eye and raised the opposite eyebrow. “Are you putting me in the crazy box just ‘cause I play with fire?”

  I nodded.

  He waved a finger at me. “Now listen here miss… miss… I didn’t catch your name.”

  “I didn’t throw it.”

  He huffed. “What do you want me to call you?”

  I glanced at Elistra and the Ringmaster, noting that both were looking in my direction. “You can call me Frances.”

  Qualar nodded. “Alright, Fran dear, let me educate you on the finer points of why playing with fire doesn’t automatically make you crazy.”

  Elistra appeared next to my side, laughing lightly. “Perhaps you can educate my new assistant over supper, Qualar?”

  The fire-eater nodded. “Cake. I’ll talk over cake. You can have the supper stuff.” He opened the tent flap for both of us ladies.

  I glanced around the tent to find the ringmaster gone. “So, it’s official? I’m your assistant?” I eyed the fortune teller carefully.

  She nodded, that mysterious smile coming to her face again. “I think you’re going to have a lot of fun with us, Fran dear.”

  I WAS ALL ALONE…

  There, in Elistra’s tent, I laid out a set of clothes she’d given me to try on. A quick peep out the tent opening told me that it was early morning. All the circus members were busy finishing their morning tasks and wrangling up some food for themselves. Elistra had gone to fetch us some food as well. I thought as her assistant, that would be my job, but I got the feeling that she wanted to do more than get breakfast. I di
dn’t argue. A few minutes to myself would be all I needed to straighten out my other affairs.

  Assured that I was alone, I stepped back to my new set of clothes and stared at them. I didn’t like them. It wasn’t that they were shiny and drew a lot of attention; I just didn’t care for clothes in general. Yet, they were a necessary evil if I were to be a functioning part of human society. Besides, Elistra would notice if I didn’t wear them.

  Even land-kissin’ druids wear clothes, hon.

  While mentally psyching myself up for the outfit, I turned my attention to the prize that I had won last night. I carefully unwrapped a blue silk cloth from around a wooden cylindrical object about as large as my forearm. It was made out of the finest red wood and surrounded with rings that twisted and clicked, all engraved with unfamiliar text. As far as I could tell, it was some sort of puzzle box. I was dying to know what was inside of it, but what had prompted me to, um, liberate it from its previous owner was the fact that it was riddled with gemstones.

  I bet there’s a couple of plat worth of gems on this thingamajig.

  “Elistra! I gotta talk to you about…”

  I froze as the tent flap flew open. Thankfully, I had my back toward the opening. I slapped the silk back around my treasure, only slightly worried that I was naked as a jaybird. I looked back at the opening to find Qualar standing there frozen, staring, mouth open.

  “Get out, fire-brain!” I shrieked, grabbing for a blanket off the bed.

  Qualar shook himself. “I plum forgot you were staying here! Where’s Elistra?”

  I pulled at the blanket, trying to cover myself with it, but it snagged on something and resisted coming off the bed.

  “She went to get breakfast! Now get ou…” A final tug made the blanket pop loose and fly into me unexpectedly.

  Normally, I am as nimble as a goat. A newborn baby goat. With palsy. So, it was no surprise when I fell backward, hitting the center tent pole hard enough to tilt it sideways and bring half the tent down—right on top of Qualar. It also knocked the lamp off the pole, lighting a rug on fire.