The Briny Deep

by Simon Archer

  “I know you’re looking for The Golden Bull, ” he said.

  I shrugged. “That ain’t exactly a secret, Drammond. What are ye sayin’ exactly?” The flintlock lowered a bit, but I kept it pointed in his general direction.

  Drammond squirmed a bit. “I want to help, Tabby,” he complained. “You ain’t the only one looking.”

  “I kind of figured that, ye barmy bastard,” I snapped. “Is this all ye have to say? Things I already know?”

  “No!” he exclaimed. “But I know what was on the ship!”

  “Gold, ye fool,” I shook my head. This was going nowhere.

  “Aye, gold, but more besides. Something your lead doesn’t know.” He was almost frantic now. At least the idiot knew I wasn’t bluffing when I started to lift and aim my flintlock.

  “Talk fast, Screed,” I said. “I’m still listenin’.”

  “I found a manifest,” Drammond stammered. Sweat sheened his pale skin as his eyes searched my face. “Some old man sold it to a collector in Tarrant, and I traded part of my last share for it. It lists enough treasure to either buy a fleet or retire rich in Erdrath with a title and lands, along with something called The Black Mirror.”

  “The Black Mirror?” I paused and flicked my tail to and fro. I’d heard that name spoken in whispers far to the south of Milnest, but never anything more than that. No one would ever tell me more.

  “Aye,” Drammond nodded vigorously. “‘Twas on the manifest, but hidden deep amongst more mundane booty.”

  I motioned with my pistol. “What in the bloody hell is it, then?”

  He shrugged, and a sly look crept over his face. “Take me along, Tabitha Binx, and I’ll tell you what I know.”

  “Nay, Drammond,” I said with a shake of my head. “Ye spill what ye know, an’ I’ll judge whether or not to gut ye, throw ye overboard, or let ye walk out o’ here with all yer parts attached.” My eyes narrowed as I glared at the man.

  With a dramatic sigh, he sagged against my desk and hung his head. “Kill me, and you’ll never know.”

  “I’m tryin’ to decide if I care to know,” I hissed. “Ye ain’t helpin’ yer case, but if ye straighten yer spine an’ tell me plain, I’d be more inclined to consider yer request.”

  Gears spun rather obviously in Drammond’s head as he looked from me to the door. He’d finally convinced himself that running for it might be a safer option than continuing to taunt me with tidbits of nigh-useless information.

  “Fine,” he said at last, “but can we at least sit and talk like we’re civilized, instead of you continuing to wave that pistol in my face?”

  “It ain’t in yer face, but it could be,” I grumbled, then kicked a chair in his direction before slipping around to plant my own backside in the seat behind my desk. “Ye have a clean break for the door, too.”

  He gave a nervous chuckle and took a seat. “I don’t know as much about the Mirror as I’d like, but it’s supposed to be a great treasure from the Ziteca lands. Something that Lord Dorian Price looted during an expedition to those lands and brought to Erdrath. It ended up in the hands of the Empire after Price died suddenly. Old Corso was shipping it to the Admiralty when The Golden Bull went down.”

  Drammond paled a little. “Damn thing’s said to be cursed, too. Maybe that’s why nobody’s been able to find or salvage the ship.”

  I drummed my claw tips on the desk. “Interesting,” I said, keeping my unblinking, yellow gaze on the fidgeting human. “What’s this mirror said to be capable of? Because don’t tell me the old Emperor didn’t turn his occultists an’ witches loose on it.”

  “There are no records,” Drammond said with a shrug. “I mean, you could ask Ember or any other Sisterhood witch, and they might have a clue. Ain’t nothing in the manifest, though.”

  “An’ ye didn’t think to ask around whilst ye were in Tarrant, with all the witches an’ warlocks what hide in that pit o’ scum?” I said, rolling my eyes. “Are ye truly that dense, Screed, or do ye think I’m just a kitten who’ll bat at any string ye dangle for her?”

  “I didn’t think to ask.” He sighed. “I got excited and, since I was between ships, asked around to find out where you were, then booked passage.”

  “Seriously? Ye booked passage instead o’ spillin’ those beans to a pirate in return for a crew berth?”

  The idiot nodded again. “Aye, Tabby. Now, is that useful to you?”

  I was tempted to say no and toss his arse out onto the dock, but I was a cat of my word. “Ye’ve given me somethin’ to think about, so I’ll make a deal with ye. Give me the manifest, an’ I’ll find ye a spot on the crew o’ one o’ the ships I will be sailin’ with on this quest.”

  “Not on The Black Cat? ” Drammond asked with a downcast frown.

  “Nay, ye git. Only women sail on me ship, so unless ye want me to snip ye, the best ye can hope for is sailin’ with one o’ me associates.” I suppose the man really was that dense.

  He pondered for a moment, then nodded. “Your word, Cap’n Binx?”

  I straightened in my chair and spat in my right palm, offering that hand across the desk. He brightened, reached out, and we shook.

  “Deal,” I said.

  “Works for me.” Drammond reached into his shirt and pulled out a salt-stained leather journal that he dropped on my desk. “One manifest of The Golden Bull , as offered.”

  4

  M ary Night was waiting in my bed when I finally made my way belowdecks. Despite having the money to avail myself of the local inns in Caber, I preferred sleeping, and other things, aboard The Hullbreaker.

  “Greetings, my Captain,” she said with a smile. That and some bangles on her wrists and ankles were all she wore.

  I grinned and let my eyes roam lustfully over the body of the little changeling witch. The air was filled with a mingling of incense and her own distinctive smell as I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. It was like this most nights, especially in port when the ship was empty but for sentries and a skeleton crew. Ligeia, unfortunately, preferred to stay out to sea during these visits, only occasionally slipping aboard under cover of darkness.

  This wasn’t one of those occasions.

  “What happened?” my witch asked as her mismatched eyes took in the bruises I’d acquired during the brawl.

  “A fight,” I told her as I disrobed, tossing my clothes aside before I drifted up to the pile of cushions, furs, and blankets that made up my bed. “A few locals took offense to Kargad an’ me.”

  She rolled to her knees and wet her lips with her tongue, her eyes luminous as she gazed up at me. “Are you alright, my Captain?”

  “Aye,” I replied as I joined her, stretching out and folding my arms behind my head.

  “You said you were fine with two pistol-balls, and I don’t know how many cuts from Bloody Bill’s swords. Let me have a look.”

  Our eyes met for a moment before she turned her attention to my bruises.

  Most of them were nothing, but a couple brought a hiss to my lips as she probed them with gentle fingers. These she tended with a light caress and whispered words before stealing the pain away with a tender kiss. They’d need time to heal, but my witch was good with the hexes that took and gave pain.

  When she finished, I was half-drowsing. My eyes opened at last to her leaning over me, a smile on her lips, and I was acutely aware of her full breasts against the skin of my chest. I started to say something, but she silenced me with a kiss.

  “I think, my Captain, that I would like to entertain you this eve. You have done me quite well.”

  “What do you have in mind?” I asked, my curiosity piqued. Mary was a creative and energetic bed-partner pretty much all of the time. Occasionally, though, she got into moods where there was either something specific she wanted me to do or something specific she wanted to do to me. This looked to be one of those times.

  The witch grinned playfully. “I intend to make you very happy.”

  “What do ye want me to d
o, then?” My head dropped back onto the cushions, and I closed my eyes.

  “Just relax,” Mary purred as she kissed me again, then began slowly working her way downwards. Her hands caressed my skin, followed by her lips as she kissed slowly over my chest.

  “Fine, lass,” I said, shifting a bit on the bed as she worked her slow way down along my body. The feather-light touch of her fingers, lips, and tongue sent little shocks along my nerves and coaxed my manhood to begin its trip to full mast.

  My witch could play me like a fiddle when she was in these moods, and I enjoyed every moment of it.

  She brushed her lips along my swelling shaft, cupped my sac, and caressed the heavy orbs within. I let out a soft groan, which encouraged her to continue giving that particular part of me attention. That was pretty much what I wanted, anyway.

  My witch’s tongue teased over the swelling head of my erection as she caught my foreskin in her lips and tugged it down to bare the sensitive flesh beneath. More kisses and the light touch of her tongue followed before she opened her mouth wide and took me in.

  I let out a long, slow hiss as Mary swirled her tongue around and sucked gently. An ache built at the base of my manhood, and my balls tightened. Perhaps she worked some magic into her lovemaking, or perhaps not. It was only during these relaxed sessions that she was able to tease me with such aplomb.

  Much of our enjoyment of each other tended towards frantic, multiple couplings that bordered on violent. She was a strange woman, almost orcish in that respect. Now, though, she had the time to let her skills shine, and I was the lucky recipient.

  With hands and mouth, my changeling witch pulled me to the edge of climax, then let me down before doing it again. I had to use most of my self-control to keep from attacking the small woman and pinning her beneath me while I rutted her again and again.

  I’d save that for later. There was no question that my ability to keep going, over and over again, was one of the big attractions my witch held for me, but there was a good bit more to our relationship than that.

  Right now, she intended to drive me mad with lust, and I meant to let her.

  Mary nuzzled along the underside of my manhood, her tongue flicking at my skin as she kissed and nibbled lightly along my length. One of her small hands curled around me and began stroking up and down along my shaft as she focused the attention of her mouth on the very tip.

  I tensed and let out a groan before I opened my eyes. Mary’s hair hid her from view as she wrapped her lips around my tip and sucked while her hand stroked up and down, fingers gripping tight around my girth.

  She had grown skilled at playing me, and since we both enjoyed it, I had no reason to turn her away. When the sudden shock of pleasure shot up my spine, I think it caught both of us by surprise. My back arched, and I shot my first load of the night into my witch’s thirsty mouth.

  Mary gulped it down, letting out a deep moan in her chest as she did, her body trembling with satisfaction. My hips bucked a couple of times as she continued to suck on me, then dropped back to the bed. Her tongue swirled around me, then she raised her head and gazed up at me, a lusty smile on her lips.

  “Is my Captain ready?” she asked, her mismatched eyes gleaming.

  “Always,” I replied with a grin. It usually wasn’t me who ended up worn out in these little bouts of ours, and I wondered why she even persisted in her attempts to best me in bed, what with my orcish strength and stamina.

  This time, she was even more eager. Her body slid against mine as she straddled my hips and guided my erection up in between her thighs. The witch gasped and whimpered as she took me in, her slick tunnel nearly impossibly tight around me.

  I knew from experience that not only could the little witch take my girth, she could also fit the entire length of me, although it took a bit of effort on both our parts. Combined with the clinging tightness of her sex around me, our challenge usually focused on how many times we could go, rather than how long we could last during each.

  Mary rode me to another climax, this time on both of our parts, and rested a moment, trembling, atop me. Her slim-fingered hands clenched and unclenched like the kneading paws of a kitten against my stomach. I took the moment to recover, then slipped my hands from beneath my head to catch her by the hips. She snapped her head up and gazed at me with wild eyes.

  We both knew what came next.

  Holding her, I shifted in the bed to a kneeling position. She adapted, wrapping her strong legs around my hips, and then we rutted like that, her body bouncing against mine as we rocked together atop the furs and blankets and cushions of my bed. Our bodies glistened with sweat, the cool air of the northern sea wafting through the small, open windows of my cabin helped keep us invigorated despite our activities.

  I made her scream, this time, then pinned the little witch on her belly and rutted her like I would an eager she-orc. This time, she came first and was a quivering mess by the time I finished up and rolled off to the side to take a rest.

  Mary squirmed against me and pillowed her head on my chest, lightly tracing her fingers over my green skin. “I have a confession to make, my Captain,” she said softly.

  “You certainly stacked the deck in your favor,” I told her, grinning. What was she confessing to? Surely not some monumental act of mutiny.

  “I set Tabitha Binx on your trail,” she continued. “She and her witch, Ember, approached me, asking about your plans and your fleet. I told them to speak with you directly and told them where you were. They had interesting information that I thought you’d like to know.”

  “It ended well, Mary Night,” I observed, and it had. Whatever collusion there had been between the women possibly netted my growing fleet a skilled and dangerous captain. “We've got a palaver in the morning aboard my ship. Perhaps if it all goes well, I’ve got ye to thank.”

  She laughed playfully and lifted her head a bit to smile at me. “You’ve thanked me a few times already, my Captain, though I’d not object to a few more.”

  It was a treat to have a woman as hungry as I could be, sometimes. The fight in the little bar had been enough to get me worked up, and I’d seen firsthand how combat affected my little changeling witch. I let out a deep chuckle. “Ye don’t want sleep, yet?” I teased.

  Mary kissed, then lightly nipped one of my nipples, drawing a hiss from my lips. “What do you think, orc?” she demanded playfully. “When was the last time we were satisfied with fewer than five goes?”

  I chuckled and pulled her over as I turned, then, perhaps a bit clumsily, kissed her.

  Because of our tusks and the general structure of our heads, kissing was not normally a part of orcish courting, but considering how many times that Mary had kissed me since our first meeting, I felt like it was only right to return the favor. Besides, I wanted to make her happy.

  I caught her by surprise, her mismatched eyes went wide, and then she melted into it, returning my kiss with a delighted fervor that belied the raw passion which normally drove my witch. I was surprised by it perhaps as much as she was surprised by my kiss.

  What did I feel for the fey girl? I did know that I loved her, that I wanted her, and that she made me happy. I felt much the same for Ligeia, though she was even stranger than Mary, with moods that could only be described as capricious.

  Had I ever told either of them that I loved them? At that moment, I couldn’t remember.

  When our kiss finally broke, she drew in a breathless gasp and smiled at me, with a moment of utter openness that caused my heart to skip a beat.

  “I--” she began.

  “Shush, Mary,” I told her. “This is my confession, and ‘tis not something I’ve often said or felt but methinks I’ve fallen in love with ye.”

  There was silence for a long moment. Even The Hullbreaker seemed to grow quiet, the creak of timbers and lapping of water against her hull fading. The witch’s face brightened as she smiled in delight.

  “You just now admit it, my Captain?” she said with a se
nsuous smile. “I believe I’ve fallen in love with you, as well.”

  We kissed again, and our bodies twined together. There were still a few more times to go before we were ready to give up, and the quiet admission of love had done a lot to rebuild our initial fervor. There was a strong chance that we’d make it all the way to dawn, now.

  5

  T here were too many people in The Hullbreaker’s war room. It was never made to hold more than maybe six, and here we were with ten. Maybe I did need a bigger ship, but I wasn’t about to give this one up, not yet.

  Kargad and Shrike sat next to each other, with their ship’s witches flanking them. Oddly, Nagra had chosen to join the crew of The Wasp instead of her father’s Sirensong. Maybe it wasn’t so odd, though. The young witch was basically an apprentice and eager to prove herself, to find a place outside of Kargad’s shadow. Joining Shrike’s crew kept her close to both her father and her teacher while giving her room to grow and shine.

  The tuskless shamaness Adra Notch-Ear had taken the witch-spot on Kargad’s ship, though she had her eyes on me. Over the past few days, she had constantly badgered me about my direction sense and my talent for reading the winds and seas. She was building up to something, I could feel it in my gut. Whether it would be good for my little fleet or not was another question entirely.

  Conspicuously absent was the siren, Ligeia. She was still out scouting the nearby seas for any sign of Admiralty or merfolk activity. With Tiny alongside her, I had little fear for her safety, though I often wished that we had better means of communication.

  Mary Night sat beside me, fairly glowing with happiness and sporting a smug expression that had already garnered the both of us a few knowing looks. She glanced from me to the newcomers, Captain Tabitha Binx, and her witch, Ember Spark, before giving the red-haired witch a nod of greeting.

  “Welcome aboard, all o’ ye,” I addressed the group. “First order o’ business is to see if any o’ my captains have an objection to addin’ a new name an’ face to our little fleet.” I gestured to Tabitha. “Cap’n Tabitha Binx here has expressed a desire to sign on with us, an’ I ain’t got a reason to turn her away.”