by Eve Langlais
“Dat was crazy…” the big man grumbled.
“But it worked,” he remarked. “Now that we’ve lost our tail, we can set a course to the Topaz Isles.”
“Da good news is ya saved us time jumping da waterfall,” Jorah claimed as he pulled down a map from a roller bar in the ceiling.
It was worn and marked up with notes they’d added over the years, such as the dangerous bits they sailed through. The promising ones when it came to treasure. The places that only the most daring dared to traverse.
The Topaz Isles were a difficult but not impossible voyage. Now that Darius had shaken their tail he could remain close to the shoreline for a portion of it. The Crimson Sea and its bay on the south end of the continent had removed much of the threat in the area, its waters deadly to anything with a beating heart.
Past it were the lava cliffs, where the molten rock constantly ran and steamed the water. It was so deep that years of falling lava never managed to pile up past the surface.
Then there was the stretch of shoreline with its stream of statues. The carved stone faces had no purpose, no known creator, and were known to be a deadly spot at night. It took only a few hours to get past them in the day, then another half-day for Topaz.
A doable voyage with possibly no monetary return if the uncle chose to just be grateful instead of generous. Perhaps they’d do some treasure hunting on their way to at least make it somewhat worth their while. He’d have to lie low for a bit given the trouble in Tawa. He doubted the broker would forgive that quickly. He might have to smooth things over with a bribe.
With the ocean ahead smooth, he took a moment to go see the princess. She answered the door, looking bedraggled and green.
“I swear if I didn’t know better, I’d say we jumped off a cliff,” she said, staggering to the bed.
“We did. A waterfall to be exact, but almost the same thing.” He smiled.
She groaned. “I think I threw up an important organ.”
“You’ll be fine. Easy sailing from here on in.”
“Says you,” she grumbled. “And smooth seas only make me less queasy.”
“Poor princess,” he teased.
“Did you just come to mock me?”
Actually, he didn’t know why he’d come to see her. “I wanted to check on you. Make sure you were okay.”
That earned him a wan smile. “Not really, but I am alive, so that’s something, I guess.”
“We’ve set course for your uncle’s island.”
“Great.” The word emerged dully.
“Isn’t that what you wanted?”
She shrugged, a world of defeat in the gesture. “Does it really matter? My father is dead. Murdered. I lost my home. And I can’t go back because I’ve got people after me. People who might not care if I’m dead or alive.”
The very idea had him bristling. “I’ll keep you safe.”
“What about once you’ve dumped me and are gone?”
A query he had no reply for. Even when he left her, the question clung to him, mostly because she’d spoken the truth. She had a reason to sound defeated.
It didn’t sit well. But what could he do? It wasn’t as if he could give her back her father and comfortable court life. As for the bounties… He might be able to get a message to Roark to pull his, but given his gave her the best chance at living, it seemed more prudent to leave it intact. At least it would prove more attractive than the bounty that wanted her dead.
The biggest issue was she shouldn’t have to worry about a price on her head at all. How could he fix this?
Wait. Why was he even thinking of fixing it?
Not. His. Problem.
He’d promised to drop her off. After that, the wanted princess was on her own. And that was final.
Given he had no room to call his own, he kicked Jorah out of the bridge and leaned back in a chair, head tilted back, eyes closed for a massively uncomfortable snooze. A while later, he couldn’t have said how long, a breeze caressed his cheek, waking him.
Wind…this far from shore? They’d had no indications of a storm. Not to mention they didn’t call the area this far out from land the Dead Seas for nothing. The only things that ever stirred the waters were the leviathans of the deep. And if you disturbed them, you’d be wishing you were dealing with a storm instead.
This couldn’t be good.
Shoving out of his seat, Darius put his eye to the narrow slit that provided a view of the outside. The night was darker than usual. Clouds covered the starlight overhead. A glance at all the gauges showed the waters calm, the radar not pinging at all, but the barometer and the wind vane…those had something to say.
The pressure was dropping one second, rocketing the next. Wind gusted, cold from one direction, hot in the other. A bad combination.
He slammed his hand down on the alarm that would ring fore and aft, as well as below deck. It would rouse any sleeping crew, and given he’d ring it only in an emergency, they knew to seal every single hatch.
He shoved the shutter over the viewing slot as the wind pushed the water, creating waves that rocked the vessel, a toy at the mercy of the bobbing sea. For guidance he had to rely on the simple sonar screen and the feel of the ship to guide it. The goods news being this area didn’t usually have unexpected masses suddenly appearing to ground a hull. He wouldn’t return to the shifting islands and straits of the Dommyno Gallapegos.
Given the breeze came from two directions, the tossing waves were at odds with each other. For a second, he thought about Shereen and hoped she’d found a bucket.
The wind sucked into the room as Jorah flung open the door. “What da fuck?” The big man wrenched the portal shut.
“You tell me. How come we didn’t see this storm brewing?” Vicious weather usually showed warning signs. At sea, being caught unaware could drown even the most stalwart of ships.
“Donna look at me. Ya was da one keeping watch.”
“I might have closed my eyes for a minute,” he admitted. “But that doesn’t explain a storm out here.”
“It donna feel right,” Jorah grumbled.
Darius understood what he meant. There was an unnatural feel to the weather. A certain electric sensation in the air that had nothing to do with lightning. An ominous weight that settled on him, cloaking him with despair. He pursed his lips. Him? Despair?
“We’re under attack,” he declared.
“Whatcha talking about? Where?” Jorah asked, looking around, a hand at his hip on the hilt of his weapon.
“This storm isn’t natural. Someone is targeting us.”
“Going after da princess!” Poor Jorah, his expression said it all. He was quite aggrieved by the very idea.
“They better not be thinking of coming aboard my ship.” Darius headed for the door. “Take over while I check on our guest.”
Before Jorah could argue, Darius had shoved open the sealed portal. The wind sucked it from his hands, and it clanged.
Jorah yelled, “Fuckin’ hell,” as the breeze infiltrated the interior and floated everything light and loose.
It tore at Darius’s clothes and tugged on his braids. Rather than cringe from it, he lifted his face into the hot and cold wind, letting it energize him.
The wildness of it called to the primal in him. Storms might be dangerous, but he loved them. Loved to ride the swells of the waves. To pit himself against the sea that wanted to embrace him and emerge victorious, alive to sail another day.
He clomped the length of the deck, the grip of his boots fighting against the slickness underfoot. The water rose in jagged crests that sloshed over the rail, but rather than roll back into the sea, it climbed the boxy walls of his ship.
More proof there was something wrong with the storm. Where was the attack coming from? Were they close to his ship? Already onboard?
If they were, only one place they’d go.
He hurried for the cabin at the rear, barely grabbing hold of a handle bolted into the boxy frame before the
ship leaned and his feet went swinging. He started with two hands, but the violent rocking caused him to lose the grip with his left. His right held on tight, and he squinted with his bionic eye past the whipping winds and water to see his ship tilting horizontally.
Lightning crackled and sizzled against the water, lighting it long enough that he saw moving shapes. Company was coming. The vessel rocked in the other direction and bobbed to the other side before it righted itself. It probably wouldn’t last long. He dove around the corner and grabbed for the next handhold.
He tried the door, only to find it sealed against him. Dammit. He pounded on the door. There was no reply. Surely if it were locked that meant she was safe inside?
But he needed to be sure.
“Princess!” He slammed his fist again then cursed as the tilt of the deck threatened to dump him overboard.
As if he didn’t have enough going on, he heard the wet thump of something landing. He glanced to his left and saw a shape of a sea slug slithering over the deck. Company had arrived.
He pulled his dagger one-handed and held on to the handle with the other. The waves slammed them again, each punch of the hull bringing a shudder.
He jabbed at the sea slug. The thing was not truly dangerous until it slimed bare skin. Then it paralyzed, and the second venom injected with its abrasive gums would burn a hole in the skin. After which the slug could suck out the fleshy innards, leaving only an outer layer and bones, which the creature then wore as a protective shell.
The one attacking him sported some kind of crustacean as its outer layer. The next two had only tattered remains covering them. Easy enough to dispatch but they distracted him from the true threat.
The whip-like tendril wrapped around his ankles and threw him hard to the deck. He swung down at it, slicing and freeing himself, only to have to deal with more of the tentacles.
They boiled over the railing, flailing at him, forcing him to keep his back to the wall and fight two-handed, slashing and hacking until Tanzie arrived with a shocker rod. She zapped a few of the thicker appendages until it retreated, dragging all its limbs with it.
Saved, on his own ship. The shame. Darius banged the door as he shoved off it. “I had it covered.”
“I could see that,” was Tanzie’s dry reply. “How is the princess?”
“I wouldn’t know. She won’t open the fucking door.”
“Did you knock?”
“Of course, I fucking knocked.”
“Maybe you didn’t knock hard enough.”
“I shouldn’t have to on my own damned ship for my own fucking room!” he shouted.
“Would you like to throw yourself on the floor and add kicking to that tantrum?”
He glared. “I can be pissed if I want to. We’re under attack.”
“Were. Or haven’t you noticed the storm is easing?”
Indeed, the wind had died down, and the waves were subsiding. The monsters had returned to the deep, and the ship no longer bobbed drunkenly. The storm had passed.
Tanzie moved past him and briskly rapped.
The door opened almost immediately. The princess appeared, eyes red-rimmed, cheeks streaked with tears.
“You okay?” Tanzie asked.
“I guess.” The princess bit her lip.
“Like hell you are. I’m coming in,” Tanzie declared, and the princess stepped aside.
Before Darius could join them, the door closed in his face.
Again.
Chapter 6
“What happened?” Shereen asked. It was obvious there’d been a fight. The captain had been covered in slime, and Tanzie was wielding some kind of prod Shereen had only seen used in the market.
“Just a touch of bad weather. It’s passed.”
Shereen wrung her hands as she paced the cabin. “The storm was my fault.”
“Are you implying you caused it?” Tanzie asked.
The query brought a snort. “Of course not. I have no psionic ability. It’s the whole reason I had to flee. But obviously someone sent a storm mage after me.”
“You can’t know that for sure. Storms happen sometimes.”
Shereen shook her head. “I might not have any kind of power, but I do know when the weather is being manipulated.”
“To do what? They need you alive, not dead because they sank the ship you were on.”
“Maybe they were using it as a cover to sneak on board?”
“No one snuck on board. The storm has already tried its worse, and guess what? The ship is fine.”
“For now,” was her ominous reply. “What if they try again? Your captain is right. I’m dangerous to have on board.”
“You seem to forget we are dangerous, too.”
Shereen slumped to a chair. “Why do you want to help me? Wouldn’t it be easier and safer to turn me in?”
“Some things are more important than wealth.”
“I don’t know if your captain would agree.”
Tanzie offered a tight smile. “You wouldn’t be here if he was the type of man motivated by greed.”
“How did you end up sailing with him?”
“Because he was a pirate of honor. When he came across a gang of thugs determined to teach me my place, he let me kill them all. Even held on to the last two until I could mete out their punishment. Only then did he ask if I’d ever wanted to sail.”
“And you like it.” More statement than query. Shereen grimaced. “I wish I didn’t feel queasy all the time.”
“Not as bad, though. You didn’t even puke once, and that was a rough storm.”
Her lips widened into a smile. “I guess I didn’t.” But the mention of the weather reminded her. “That storm mage will try again.”
“Doubtful. More likely we’ll be long gone before they call up another.”
The kind of effort required to manipulate storms that rough demanded a period of rest in between. It wasn’t a hundred percent reassuring. They would only have a short reprieve—if any—before the next attempt. What if there were more mages and bounty hunters?
She hunched. “I’m sorry.
“Stop apologizing. It’s not your fault,” said the woman who was much too kind.
Shereen’s hands fluttered. “I don’t know what else to do. I feel so useless. I wish there was something I could do to make things better.”
“You could accept the Marsh king’s offer of sanctuary.”
“His city is too close to Sapphire.” She shook her head. “The duke would never stand for it.”
“Then there’s not much to do but keep surviving. Eventually the duke and the other person who placed the large bounty will get tired of failing.”
“And how long will that take?”
“I imagine once the new king is chosen the attempts on your life might ease.”
“Might?” Shereen almost started laughing but worried, if she did, she might never cease. “I can’t live my life running and hiding, jumping at every stranger or noise.”
“The only other option is putting a stop to the people offering the bounties. Say the word and Darius will message his brother.”
“That’s one, but what of the other two? I assume the one that wants me dead is the Duke of Coral.” Given his greed, she knew the only way he’d ever cease his attempts was if he died first. She’d have to kill him. The very idea made her stomach roil. She had nothing left to heave in the bucket. She hung over the rim and moaned. “I hate sailing.”
“Try these mints.” Tanzie offered her a tin. “In all the commotion, I’d forgotten I grabbed them in the market. The vendor who sold them to me says you just need to take one every night and you’ll feel better by morning.”
The vendor lied. The next day, the first thing she did upon exiting the cabin was spew the water she’d just drunk down the front of the captain’s shirt.
The handsome man looked less than impressed. She stared down at his bare toes. His pants were rolled around his knees and wet. His shirt, too, now because of h
er. It clung to his muscular upper body, delineating it in ways that made her want to brush the fabric smooth.
“Did you go for a swim?” she asked rather than apologize again.
“I did. Some barnacles tried to latch on during the storm. Given they’re buggers at eroding metal, I had to pry them off.”
“You pried them off?” she said absently as he peeled off the damp shirt, revealing scars that had her wondering at the stories behind them.
He shrugged. “Someone has to do it, and I was in need of a bath. Mind letting me in to change?” Rather than wait, he shoved past her into the room.
She assumed he’d grab clothes and leave. Wrong. Rather than use the small lavatory attached to the room, he stripped his shirt and began to wash, standing by the table, pouring water onto a cloth and swabbing it over his chest over the ridges of his toned physique.
She turned quickly when his hands went to the waistband of his pants. She’d seen naked men before. It didn’t mean it was polite to stare, especially when she got the impression he did it on purpose.
“Other than the barnacles, did the ship escape unscathed from the storm?” Shereen asked while she waited for him to dress.
“It will take more than a tiny hurricane to break the Avenger.”
“Hardly tiny.” She snorted. “Nor was it natural either.”
“Tanzie said you seemed pretty sure it was started by a storm mage.”
Didn’t he taste it in the wind? “Given its abrupt appearance, it’s the only explanation.”
“Never say only, because the sea has a way of contradicting absolutes.” The voice sounded all too close, and she turned to see him standing right behind her, bare-chested but wearing pants. The dry pair rode low on his hips, showing off the vee of his lower belly and a hint of fur.
She blushed as she realized she stared. Then blushed even more hotly as she raised her gaze to see he’d noticed.
Humor lifted a corner of his mouth. “Don’t stop staring on my account.”
Flustered, she moved away from him. “What do you think?”
“I think you have good taste.”
Her cheeks heated even more. “I meant about the storm. Do you think it was natural?”