Eternal Gambit

by St Clare, Kelly

  “Ye have my word,” he purred.

  A pirate truth if she’d ever heard one. It went both ways. If an opportunity arose to kill him, she’d take it.

  The captain turned and strode to the shipwreck once more. He didn’t stop but kept walking up the old deck. Only when he was halfway did he turn back. “Oh, and I’ll be needin’ those shiny-like magic parts from yer belts. All five. My masters will be most pleased to be reunited with them.”

  Ebba closed her eyes. She’d known it was coming, but her heart sank nevertheless at the confirmation the pillars were involved. The parts were for them. Her crew weren’t just fighting Mutinous Cannon but a much greater foe.

  As soon as Cannon disappeared from sight, Pockmark rounded on them, fury etching the lines of his face. “Ye heard him. All five o’ the magic things. Pass them over. No funny bus’ness.”

  Ebba covered her mouth, gagging as one of the wounds on his face cracked open and pus dripped down his cheek.

  She shared a long look with the others.

  To her way of thinking, there wasn’t any wriggle room. Right now. First, they had to figure out how to get the tainted members of their crew back through the entrance. Handing over the objects wasn’t ideal after everything they’d been through to secure them, but she suspected the alternative was a bullet in her innards, which was less conducive to escaping.

  “Nothin’ for it.” Jagger grunted.

  Stubby hummed in agreement. “Nay. Not for now.”

  Jagger’s hand went to the amare tucked in his belt. He was still bare-chested. She focused on one of his many intricate tattoos—a gleaming diamond in a wreath of flowers and feathers.

  A wrinkle formed between her brows.

  The lean muscle of his torso tapered into a V low on his hips. Funny . . . she’d never noticed that before. It probably wasn’t important in her current situation, but it interested her . . . greatly.

  Jagger glanced up. She didn’t move her eyes, however. He’d caught her staring at his body a few times in the last week and hadn’t seemed bothered. Plus, when it was just attraction she felt, Ebba felt excited and shy. Now that things between them had taken a more serious, accidental turn, she was pissed off.

  She’d look her damn fill.

  He glanced at the amare and then back at her, quirking a brow.

  Sink her, but that reference to the latest part was enough to make her look away. Her gut churned in memory of the wonderous feeling that had overcome her mere hours before when Jagger touched the amare to her skin. As the bearer, he wouldn’t have felt a thing. But prior to the incident, there was an occasion where she’d touched the tube to him.

  What had he felt?

  And would knowing the answer make her more or less angry?

  Grubby tossed the scio to the ground.

  With an apologetic look at Grubby, Plank did the same with the dynami.

  Caspian frowned at the sword, and Ebba knew he would consider passing over veritas as a failure to his father’s memory.

  She’d better toss the healing tube over.

  Brightening suddenly, Ebba extracted the purgium from her belt. Swindles’ back was turned, and she threw the cylinder, whistling sharply.

  The pirate whirled about and raised his hands to protect his face. Ebba grinned as he caught the purgium. He seemed confused at first, but then his face and body contorted. Black fissures joined the boils on his face and the pirate screamed.

  Ebba stumbled back with her fathers for fear he’d explode. But then he just stopped.

  His skin smoothed of any blemish. For a second, his black eyes cleared to a bloodshot yellow, and then a healthy white. Until his eyes turned glassy and staring. Until the life escaped his body and he sagged into a crumpled heap on the black-and-crimson stone, the purgium falling from his grasp.

  Locks clapped her on the back. Honestly, she kind of felt bad about doing that, even though it was Swindles. Still, at least he was healed of the taint. Ebba would rather be healed and dead than living like him. Not that she’d done it for those reasons.

  “Y-ye,” Pockmark uttered, staring at Swindles. His breath came fast as he turned to fix yellowed eyes on her.

  Ebba eyed the black encroaching on the edges of his gaze, quelling her uneasiness at his rabid intensity. “Just followin’ orders.”

  He took a deep breath, and the black receded. “Pick the tube up and put it in the box.”

  “Well, why didn’t ye say so?” she said reasonably. Crossing the space, she held down the back of her short blue shift and crouched to pick up the object. Picking her way over to the box that had held the crown, Ebba placed the purgium inside.

  “Bring the box,” Pockmark snapped at Riot.

  Without hesitation, the pirate strode to pick up the lid and placed it securely on top. Riot and Swindles had been attached at the hip for as long as she could recall, but Riot didn’t even glance at his dead friend.

  “Ye can be sure I’ll be alertin’ my grandfather to what just happened,” Pockmark said coolly.

  Aye, and if he didn’t, then one of the twenty or so tainted peering out of the gun ports would.

  Ebba cocked a hip out, arms folded.

  “The captain has arranged special quarters for ye,” Pockmark then announced, smirking.

  She didn’t like the sound of that. Not one bit. If they were locked up, getting out of here just became even more impossible.

  His leering smile displayed rotting teeth. “Won’t ye follow me?”

  Four

  Pockmark led them away from the shipwreck and back down the worn path to the stream. Riot followed at the end of the procession, pistol out and trained on Peg-leg’s back.

  The heaviness she’d felt since entering Davy Jones’ Locker had steadily dissipated during the walk. Most of the dryness had left her mouth. Her mind felt clearer, her limbs lighter.

  That Ebba had already acclimatized to hell was faintly disturbing.

  To her surprise, Pockmark veered off the path well before the water. They walked down a different path—one smaller and not as worn. Looking up, she tried to get her bearings, but the boulders here were still taller than her.

  The shipwreck had been in the northwest corner of the cavern. Now they moved directly west.

  They weaved between the towering boulders all the way to the base of the cliff face. The crimson twinkled deep within the rock, again giving her the sense that the entire cavern was aflame.

  “Follow the steps up,” Pockmark ordered. He rounded a jutting part of the cliff and jerked his head.

  She trailed after him.

  Similar to the passage platform, steps had been cut into the black stone. Ebba craned her head, following the stairway twenty feet up where the steps looked to stop. Well, at least her crew now knew the stone wasn’t tainted.

  “Ye’re to stay up there unless sent for,” Pockmark told them. “And don’t bother tryin’ to escape. The passage be guarded. Ye’ll never make it back to the entrance.”

  Barrels cleared his throat. “Food and water?”

  Pockmark snorted. “This ain’t a saloon.”

  With that, he ambled to stand beside Riot, hand resting on his pistol.

  Ebba sighed and faced the steps, standing back when Plank squeezed in front of her.

  “Jagger,” she whispered as he came up behind her. “Can ye mind Peg-leg on the way up?”

  “Aye, but if he falls, I ain’t goin’ down with him.”

  Ebba scowled over her shoulder.

  The amare was wrong. It had to be wrong.

  Or was she so angry because deep down she knew the part was right? Whatever the answer, her current confusion had made her realize she knew little about the silver-eyed pirate. He was twenty, had spent two years on Malice. Being the immune gave him resistance to the taint and all types of magic. He wasn’t infallible but could only be affected by magic with high and unrelenting exposure. Even then, he recovered in time. When he was young, Caspian’s father killed his parents.
And he was only alive because a servant had put him in a boat, which ultimately drifted onto the shores of Neos.

  He had tattoos that her eyes found irresistible. And he was a prized sod. Though a predictable sod. Jagger would do whatever was necessary to save his tribe family.

  “Ye may want to think twice on that, matey,” she told him. “Peg-leg is integral-like to the quest. Might affect yer tribe if he dies.”

  Jagger’s eyes gleamed. “A new approach?”

  Aye. Ebba shrugged nonchalantly and settled her attention on the steps. There was nothing for it.

  “Hold on. Hold on,” Stubby called. Her father tugged off his tunic and tossed it to her. “Wrap that around yer waist, lass. We don’t want any eyes where they shouldn’t be.” The last part was entirely aimed at Jagger.

  Her cheeks heated, but she accepted the tunic and obeyed without comment. The idea of Jagger staring at her butt all the way up was grossly unsettling.

  That done, Ebba began to climb.

  Her view from the base of the cliff face proved correct. About twenty feet up, Ebba crawled onto a wide ledge. There was more than enough space on the ledge for each of them to caulk with ease, but the perch formed the welcome mat for a dark cave.

  “Yikes,” she whispered.

  Ebba walked onto the ledge to stand beside Plank. Her father scanned the Locker, and she did the same, turning away from the cave.

  Everything was visible from here.

  At the southern end of the cavern were the passage platform and the steep steps where they entered. The entire length of the boiling purple stream was visible, as were the damned on the opposite side of the water.

  The only thing she couldn’t see was Cannon’s shipwreck. Though this cave and the wreck were along the western wall of the cavern, the cliff curved slightly, blocking the tainted pirates from view.

  A good vantage point, all in all. They’d be able to spot danger approaching.

  Ebba left Plank as the others joined them at the top. She tossed Stubby his tunic back and then stepped just inside the cave.

  She paused to give her eyes time to adjust to the dark, muttering, “They could’ve given us a torch.”

  But in short measure, Ebba was able to make out a few jutting boulders in front of her. Only the height of her knees. Edging into the dark with her hands extended, Ebba strode from the right cave wall to the left.

  She called out, “It be the width of our sleeping quarters on. . . .” Felicity.

  “Be careful, lass. Caves can drop off fierce-like,” Stubby warned, his voice echoing.

  She worked deeper into the cave, but Stubby’s warning wasn’t necessary. “It ain’t really that deep,” Ebba told them.

  The inside of the cave was about the same size as the perch outside. They could caulk in here without issue too.

  “There are some trunks here,” Caspian called from the opposite wall.

  Ebba edged over to him, hands still outstretched. “Really?”

  “I think it’s clothing. . . . Do you think it’s safe to touch?”

  Inside the cave, the temperature was a lot colder, and the temptation to shrug clothing on was strong. Ebba wrapped her arms around her body. “It ain’t worth the risk, matey.”

  Her fathers entered the cave, stumbling around in the dark.

  “Are you cold?” Caspian asked her.

  She squinted through the dark, making out his outline before her. The thoughtful question upset the balance of too many surges of energy, fear, and panic from the last week. Ebba laughed, high-pitched. “Aye, Caspian. I be cold. I’m in naught but a tight pillow case.”

  His reply was low. “I noticed.”

  Her stomach twinged. Not in a good way; in a ‘we need to have a serious talk’ kind of way. Caspian carried a deep regard for her, and a while back, she’d promised to be open to the idea of returning that regard. Then she’d had a run-in with Calypso, which led her to discover she was fiercely attracted to Jagger and only felt friendship for the prince. And now, after touching the amare, things had become a lot more complicated.

  Ebba was transported back to the flash of intense feeling when Jagger touched the amare to her skin. How it had bolted through her with the force of a cannonball, pooling between her hips, flushing all thought from her skull. Sink her, she really needed to explain the situation to her friend, yet she barely understood what had happened herself.

  The last thing Ebba wanted was to lose their friendship because she botched the conversation.

  “Here, take my tunic,” the prince said, reaching overhead to pull it off.

  Her stomach twinged again. She rested a hand on his arm. “Nay, I’m right without it.”

  The prince stilled and lowered his arm. “You’re sure?” Caspian leaned in, and her stomach twinged for the third time. “When I thought I’d lost you to the Capricorn. . . .” He sighed. “You have no idea how frantic I was. How frantic I am with you in this horrible place.”

  Ebba squeezed her eyes shut, guilt churning within her. Not because she couldn’t return his feelings. She’d never promised to do such a thing. But she truly feared what would happen when she confessed the truth. For so long after losing his arm, experiencing the taint, and then losing his father and his kingdom, Caspian had been almost despondent. Drawn in on himself and just less. For her friend, Ebba would do mostly anything to prevent him returning to that state. That included picking the right time to tell him everything.

  “Ye don’t fight for me,” she shot back, harsher than intended. “Ye fight because there be people who need ye—yer kingdom, yer sisters. That’s who ye’re fightin’ for, matey.” She straightened away from him. “And I be sure about the tunic. I’ll survive.”

  The gold circlet on his head caught at what little light existed in the cave.

  “Ye can take that off, ye know,” she told him. “There ain’t no one to see.”

  Caspian shifted in the darkness. “I could. I’d rather keep it on. I am a king, after all.”

  If his tone wasn’t so forlorn, she would’ve been overjoyed to hear such words out of his mouth.

  “Aye,” she said fiercely. “Ye are king. And ye’re the only person who decides how kingly ye feel.” Curse Cannon for making him crawl.

  He reached out and took her hand, squeezing it tight. “I’m just so glad you’re safe.”

  This time her laugh was genuine. “Caspian, we be in Davy Jones’ Locker. Safe has naught to do with it. Unless there be two meanings to that word as well.”

  Leaving him, she helped Barrels to sit on a low boulder.

  Groaning, her eldest father sat down. He patted her hand. “Thank ye, my dear.”

  In short succession, all of her fathers found a pew, and for a full minute, no one said a word. Like her, were they absorbing the huge and dire change in their circumstances?

  Ebba sat crossed-legged on a mostly flat slab of stone and tilted her head back, feeling her dreadlocks brush the bottom of her bare shoulder blades. What a week. From Felicity sinking to the Capricorn’s attack. Then the Satyr and the amare.

  Now, they were literally in hell.

  That seemed like rock bottom. She was emotionally drained, physically exhausted, and wanted a hug from someone she could depend upon.

  Ebba glanced to the wide ledge outside.

  Jagger hadn’t entered the cave but sat with his legs dangling over the edge of the perch. He didn’t like dark places after his time on Malice. The cave must qualify in the same category as ‘below deck.’

  “So,” Locks drew out.

  Peg-leg sniffed. “So.”

  “Are ye all okay after seein’ Cannon?” Ebba whispered.

  The pregnant silence all but echoed in the dark.

  Locks was first to answer. “Ye know, I did a whole heap o’ pretendin’ at that shipwreck. He affected me more after twenty years than I care to admit. But I was able to pretend, and that be a lot more than I was able to do in the past. Now the first meetin’ be over, I’ll be better m
ore prepared-like for what’s ahead. I ain’t sayin’ the sight o’ him doesn’t stir up awful feelin’s, but I can handle it. If anythin’, the feelin’ o’ the taint while aboard Eternal was worse. In my memories, the taint and Cannon were the same thing, but I be seein’ now that the ugliness I felt all those years ago was just the taint. And Cannon was a bully addin’ to that ugliness.”

  Ebba released a shaking breath. She’d been prepared to hear much worse. That they’d be propelled right back to the bad place she’d been trying to drag them from through sheer determination. But Locks’ revelation was huge.

  “That about sums it up,” Barrels said.

  The rest of her fathers added their agreement, and the knot in her gut loosened.

  Ebba glanced toward the very back of the cave, waiting for Plank to add his ‘aye.’ When it didn’t come, the knot in her gut turned to a churning anger. He was still isolating himself. It had to stop. She’d stop it. But Ebba was too exhausted to trust what she might say to him tonight. Or whatever time it was.

  “The larger issue be that we’re in a bucket o’ fish guts,” Stubby declared.

  Grubby laughed.

  Barrels spoke. “What’s our plan?”

  “We need to figure out how to get back through the entrance,” Ebba stated. “In the meantime, we’ll retrieve the parts o’ the root. The jetty path back to Satyr Island only shows once a day when the tide changes, recall? So we’ll have to time our escape.”

  Caspian answered, and she jumped, realizing he sat directly behind her. “There is also the issue of the Satyr if we make it across the jetty to their island.”

  She tapped her bottom lip. “Grubby could tow a few o’ us. Except that depends on us gettin’ the rest o’ ye through the entrance anyway.”

  Stubby hummed. “Maybe Matey will be on the other side? Or Sally and the Daedalion.”

  “Can’t depend on that, though, can we?” Peg-leg grunted.

  No, they couldn’t.

  “We ain’t dead,” Locks said.

  “Well done, matey,” Stubby said sarcastically.