Amorlia

by Chris Wichtendahl

  The Sky Pirates of Vega

  Pym woke from a deep sleep to the sound of the alarm ringing through the palace. He sat up in bed and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Deron stirred next to him, “Isn’t it too early for this?” “Well, you know how those pirates can be,” Pym said, already standing and half-dressed, “No respect for a man’s need to laze about in bed all morning,” he leaned over to kiss Deron’s head, “I’ll likely be gone most of the day, but I should be back for the evening meal.” He turned to speed off, but his lover grabbed hold of his wrist. “Wait,” Deron said. “Deron, I have to go,” Pym tugged his arm, but Deron wouldn’t let go, “Artemis needs me to-” “And I need you to listen to me,” Deron said, meeting Pym’s gaze unflinching. His eyes looked haunted. Pym sat down on the bed, concern evident on his face. “Sweetheart,” he said tenderly, “what is it?” “You need to promise me that you’ll be careful today.” Pym smiled, “I’m always careful.” “No,” Deron insisted, “you’re never careful. Please try to be today.” Pym raised an eyebrow, “Why? What’s got into you?” Deron sighed, leaning back against the headboard of the bed, “I just...” he looked into the distance, “I feel something horrible is going to happen,” He looked over at Pym, “Something horrible is going to happen to you.” “Well,” Pym said, laughing as he stood, “it would seem you’ve developed a gift for prophecy. Which will work out very well for us should we ever need extra money. You can set up a booth in the marketplace and advise young lovers on-” “Stop it!” Deron shouted, eyes flashing with anger, “Stop making jokes! Whenever you don’t want to talk about something or think about something, you make some stupid joke so everyone will laugh and be distracted. Well,” he looked away, “I don’t feel like laughing today.” Pym looked up and his eyes unfocused, which meant Artemis was thinking to him. “I’ll be there soon,” the young speedster said. Then, to Deron, “I really have to go, but I don’t want to leave you so upset. Why don’t we-oh,” his eyes lost focus again, then he said, “Get dressed. She wants to see you too.” Later, Deron and Pym stood in Artemis’ office with Kael and his generals. Lady Iris was the only noble among them, the rest were commoners. Most of the nobility had deserted the army when Carola Delas escaped. They were now part of the former admiral’s band of pirates. Artemis had stripped them of land and titles, and seized their assets to add to the royal treasury. Many of their estates were turned into shelters for those left homeless by the Nazean invasion and the increasingly destructive raids by Carola Delas’ pirate ship, The Unholy. The largest of the captured estates was being converted into a new Solarian monastery to replace the one Carola had recently destroyed. Father Jorrin and most of the Solarian monks had died that day, leaving Deron and any others who had been away from the monastery to rebuild their order. Artemis stood behind her desk, which was covered by a large map of Vega. Sites of recent attacks were marked in red. She pointed to the village of Baern. “Our scouts believe they will attack here today,” she said. “Captain Delas has added a number of rogue Nazeans to her crew, and Baern is a known target of theirs. It is likely she will attack in the afternoon, just as people are returning from their midday meals. She likes to catch her victims off-guard, during the transitional times of day.” She looked at Kael, then each general in turn, “It is vital we stop them here,” she stabbed her finger at the point on the map, “We have spent too much time and money chasing these pirates, time and money better spent preparing for war with the Nazeans. It is a miracle we’ve heard nothing from them in these past few weeks, but that is bound to change. If we are to fight an invasion from the outside, we cannot have enemies within. Today is our last chance to put an end to this.” She stood straight, and Pym noticed she wore not only her sword, but her belt with all her gear. The trousers were of a much sturdier material, and she wore knee-high boots of thick leather, rather than the soft shoes she usually wore around the palace. She’d donned her old leather vest as well. “Going somewhere?” Pym asked casually. “Yes,” Artemis told him, “and you’re staying here.” “What?” Pym looked over at Deron, but his lover seemed just as surprised. “Don’t blame Deron,” Artemis held up a hand. “While his concern for you is no secret to anyone, least of all a telepath, I have my own reasons for leaving you behind this time.” “Do tell,” Pym folded his arms across his chest. “Our response to these attacks has become predictable,” Artemis said, “Kael engages their airship, you provide crowd control. Once the civilians are safe, you assist the soldiers against the raiding party.” “Yes,” Pym agreed, “and that strategy has enabled us to capture or kill a considerable number of her crew. Kael did quite a bit of damage to their ship last time, so I don’t see what-” “This time they’re after you,” Artemis said. “What are you talking about?” Pym felt Deron’s hand slide into his own. “You are quite formidable in battle, Pym,” Artemis told him, “and it is well known how essential you’ve become to the administration of this Land.” She smiled at him, “That makes you quite a prize.” “I’m flattered,” Pym said dryly. “My scouts have reported that Carola has managed to enlist a few Brain Masters into her crew,” Artemis said, “I didn’t realize any of them were left behind, but the Nazeans fled pretty quickly, so I guess it was possible. At any rate, I believe she means to use them to trap you.” “And then?” Pym prompted. “Ransom you or kill you, I suppose,” Artemis shrugged. “She’s anticipating you being there and following your usual pattern, so we’ll be upsetting her plans a bit this time. Kael,” she gestured to her husband, “will handle crowd control, while I,” she pointed to herself, “will infiltrate the airship and take down Carola Delas myself.” “That’s brilliant,” Pym said with a smirk, “but who is going to rule the Land Vega while you’re off adventuring?” “Isn’t it obvious?” Artemis asked, grinning, “You are.” ****** Pym sat upon the throne of Vega uncomfortably. He squirmed and looked about nervously. Deron stood by his side. “Don’t fidget,” the young monk said. “Easy for you,” Pym retorted, “you weren’t just named Heir to the throne of Vega.” “No, Artemis named me Regent,” Deron smirked, “so I’d have enough power to keep you from doing anything stupid.” The recently crowned Prince of Vega glowered up at his lover, “You really are enjoying this, aren’t you?” Deron grinned, “You know… I really am.” He directed Pym’s attention toward the doors at the opposite end of the throne room, “Now straighten up, Your Majesty. Today’s petitioners are arriving.” As Pym settled in to grant audience to those people of Vega who sought the aid of the Monarch, he spared a thought for Artemis. It was not entirely kind, though he did hope she was okay. That moment, many miles away in the sky over the town of Baern, Artemis stood on the deck of one of the only two functioning Vegan airships. The other was currently being used by Carola Delas and her pirate gang. Following her escape from prison, she’d managed to steal the Luna’s Blade and rename it The Unholy. As all other airships had been destroyed during the Nazean attack, they were left only with the Anders, which was just recently finished. Therefore, in addition to apprehending or killing the pirates, Artemis also wanted to capture her stolen ship. Kael approached her as they came down out of the clouds above The Unholy. The pirates were just beginning to slide down the ropes that anchored their ship to the ground. Artemis climbed up on the railing of her airship and pointed downward. “Give me a few minutes, then get down there,” she said, then leaped off the railing. She fell through the air toward the pirate airship, still quite a distance below her. She smiled. It had been too long since she’d seen some action. So long as no one died who wasn’t supposed to, this was going to be fun. She hit the deck feet-first, crouched and flipped over to land on her feet again, taking the assembled pirates completely by surprise. Before they could raise their weapons, she’d brained two of them with her wooden sword. Three more fell to her throwing blades and she tossed another over the side. She made her way to the command deck, knowing that’s where their captain would be. As she approached, two men with rifles stepped out onto the deck and fired at her. She deflect
ed the bullets with her sword, then threw one of her blades. It sliced both pirates’ hands off at the wrists. As they writhed in agony on the deck, she stepped over them and continued on. At the door to the command deck, Carola Delas rushed her. Their swords met briefly, and Artemis jumped backward into a defensive crouch. The two women circled each other. “Well well,” Carola remarked, casually twirling her sword from hand to hand, “you actually came out yourself. I’m honored.” “Don’t be,” Artemis glared at her, “I was just bored, and you seemed like a serviceable distraction.” “Aww,” the pirate captain mocked, “does that mean you aren’t here to appeal to my better nature?” “You no longer have one,” Artemis growled. She lunged forward to attack and Carola parried. The fight went on that way for a while, a series of attacks and parries, neither one losing or gaining ground. Then Carola got through Artemis’ defenses and sliced a shallow cut across the other woman’s shoulder. “First blood is mine, Artemis,” she sneered. “The killing blow is the one that counts, Carola,” Artemis spat back. She attacked again, and Carola parried. They went back and forth again for a few minutes, then Artemis knocked Carola’s sword aside and struck the pirate captain on the side of her head. As her opponent staggered back, dizzy from the blow, Artemis pressed her advantage, striking arms, legs and ribs in rapid succession. Carola Delas fell to the deck of her ship, her sword arm broken. She also had two broken ribs and her legs were severely bruised. She looked up at Artemis. “So, what now, little Monarch?” she panted, “Am I to return meekly to my cell and await trial?” Artemis said nothing. She reached down and grabbed her former advisor by the shirtfront, hauling her to her feet. “Oh, I see,” Carola taunted through the pain in her ribs, “you’re going to beat me up some more. Didn’t get enough brutal violence when you savaged Julien Castille, eh? That’s okay. I always knew you had it in you.” She smiled evilly into Artemis’ impassive face, “It feels good, doesn’t it? So go ahead, indulge yourself. I’ll even cry if that will make it better for you.” She started to laugh then, though her laughter was cut short when Artemis threw her over the side of the airship. After a long fall, she hit the ground hard, breaking her back and her neck. Artemis turned away from the railing and entered the command deck. The bridge crew drew guns on her as she walked in, but she took control of their minds and forced their guns down. Artemis sat down in the captain’s chair and broadcast her thoughts to everyone still aboard. Attention, pirate scum! This is Artemis, Monarch of the Land Vega and your new captain. I’ve just thrown your old one to her death, and unless you’d all like to join her, you’ll pull up anchors and fly this airship back to Vega. After disembarking, you will all turn yourselves in to my soldiers. There was no need to ask if everyone understood. She knew they did. Just like she knew they’d all obey. She’d left them no choice in the matter. She settled back in the captain’s chair just as Kael arrived. “No civilian casualties, and little loss of property,” he reported. “There was a garrison of our troops in the village, so I handed my prisoners over to them. They’ll be processed in Baern and brought to the capitol to serve their sentence. Artemis nodded. Kael looked around, “Where is she?” “Carola?” Artemis said with a small smile, “Oh, she fell overboard.” Kael raised an eyebrow, “I see,” he said. As the two airships flew off toward Vega, the broken body of Carola Delas breathed its last. It lay unmoving in the grass where it fell for several minutes, until long after the airships disappeared from view. Then it drew another breath. The body twitched, making sickening snapping and popping noises as the damaged vertebrae repaired themselves. It pushed itself to its feet and lurched forward, sunken eyes looking frantically about. “Nooo,” Carola’s voice rasped, “No, I’m dead. I can’t get up and walk around when I’m dead.” She whimpered, “Why am I back in my body?” Queen Umbra’s laughter echoed in her mind, Because I still have plans for you, my dear, she said, and this dead body of yours should last long enough to carry them out. Now, hurry up! There’s places to go and people to savagely murder. As her undead body took one awkward shuffling step after another, what remained of Carola Delas began to cry.