The Pirate's Witch (Blood Prince)

by Jennifer Blackstream

Tyr scanned the boughs above them, alert for any signs they weren’t alone. “It’s not the forest itself that concerns me.”

  “There.”

  She stopped walking and Tyr looked ahead. A stone wall rose out of nowhere, large, solid rocks stacked in rows and sealed with slate grey mortar. He looked from side to side, but saw no end to the wall. It looked for all the world like it went on forever, yet gave the impression of being curved. The only thing visible beyond the wall was a tower, built from the same type of rock that made up the wall. A single, small window gave a glimpse of something gold that caught what little sunlight penetrated the forest canopy. Behind the gold, was a shimmering wing of burning yellow and orange.

  “Is that…?”

  “Yes.” Ingrid squared her shoulders and nodded at him. “This is where you must go on and I must remain.”

  Doubt nipped at him, just for a moment. “Wait, you’re not—”

  “Quiet, and listen carefully. On the other side of that wall is a line of guards, one guard every thirty feet. All of them face the tower. They are asleep, so move quietly and they will offer you no harm. When you get to the tower, pay attention to the stairs, they are unevenly spaced and of varying heights and they will trip you if you’re not careful. The firebird is in the room at the top of the tower.”

  “How will—”

  “The firebird sits in a golden cage,” she continued. “Take the firebird, but do not touch the cage.”

  “If I can’t touch the cage, how will I take the bird?” Tyr rubbed the nub of his left hand, trying to ease the ache that seemed to be spreading down his arm. Something about Ingrid’s speech sounded ritualistic. As if she were reciting the words instead of coming up with them herself in the moment.

  “The cage is not locked, and the door stands open. You can reach inside and take the bird.” She met his eyes, held them. “Do not. Touch. The cage.”

  “If the cage is open, why doesn’t the bird fly away? Who owns it, who owns the cage?”

  “I told you,” she said impatiently. “It is a questing beast.”

  Her answer wasn’t an answer, and the look in her eyes told him she knew that. What had been a simple retrieval a moment ago, an idea that the earth witch would somehow just summon the bird into her arms and that would be it, was gone, turned to ash under the eerie light shining in her eyes.

  “Ingrid, Baba Yaga told me that an earth witch needs a mate, needs a man to keep the earth fertile. Did she tell me that, or did she tell the first man who came along?”

  A flash of annoyance tightened the lines around Ingrid’s mouth. “If Baba Yaga led you to believe that you were somehow destined to be my mate, she likely did so in some perverted attempt to convince you that you could not fail, that you would survive this entire ordeal and end your journey in my bed.”

  She huffed out an indignant breath. “I’m sure she also knew well and good it would irritate me. The fact of the matter is, I am bonded with the land in a symbiotic relationship. For the land to benefit as much from me as I do from it, I will need to take a man as my mate. The land does not require a specific man.”

  He nodded and looked away, toward the wall. It was true, Baba Yaga had led him to believe he was destined to be with Ingrid, that somehow a life with her lay at the end of his path. He didn’t want to look at Ingrid’s face right now, didn’t want to see the truth there. The truth that he had already burned that bridge when he sent her out to face her death on a piece of wood stuck over rolling waves.

  Everything proceeded exactly as she’d said. The wall was easy to climb, the gaps between the giant stones all too willing to offer finger and footholds. The guards she’d spoken of were there, dressed in dull suits of armor, no less. Not one of them stirred as he landed on the balls of his feet, well worn leather boots as silent as a cat’s paws. By the time he was halfway up the tower stairs, he was starting to get suspicious.

  It can’t be this easy. She didn’t make it sound like it would be this easy.

  Orange and yellow light shone from the room at the top of the stairs, beckoning him closer. Suspicion melted away, leaving behind nothing but a spreading sense of awe.

  The cage door was open, presenting an unimpeded view of the magnificent creature within. The firebird gripped its perch with strong legs tipped with razor sharp talons, watching him with an ethereal calm that looked eerily human. It had the shape of a falcon, a smooth head and wickedly curved beak.

  But unlike any falcon, the firebird shone. It was the burning glow of a fire just past its prime, when the embers hold a beauty unmatched by any other element. Brilliant orange and yellow, glossy red. The tower room was lit as if the sun itself favored this space, gave it extra attention and light.

  The closer Tyr got to the bird, the more he noticed the cage. It was made of gold. Gold that had been polished until the reflection of the firebird made it seem like the cage itself was on fire, and when he got close enough, he could see his own face reflected in the bars. He looked into his own eyes, saw the wonder reflected there. As Ingrid had promised, the bird offered no fight. It seemed perfectly content to perch on his shoulder like a pet.

  His hand moved of its own accord. Fingers splayed, reached for the cage. Pure gold, worked until it was so fine even a dwarf would admire the craftsmanship. He had the bird, the real prize. What harm could it do to take the cage as well?

  Apples.

  The scent of apples filled his nose, pulled his eyes closed and made his mouth water. Pictures danced across his mind’s eye, sprawling apple trees, boughs weighed to the ground with the burden of shining fruit. He drew the scent deep inside him, until he expected to open his eyes and find himself in his father’s orchard, surrounded by the trees of his youth.

  He swayed on his feet, finally pried his eyelids open. The stone walls of the tower greeted him, shattered his fantasy, but the scent remained. He stumbled to the window, searching for the source of that heavenly scent.

  Ingrid stood just on the other side of the wall, far enough back that he could see her over the large stones. Beside her, one of the trees that had been little more than sleeping wood when he’d first laid eyes on it was suddenly laden with apples. Golden apples, not of precious metal, but brilliant yellow skin. He swallowed and he could taste those apples, taste them as surely as if he’d bitten into sweet flesh.

  He was already halfway down the stairs before he remembered the cage, the bird on his shoulder. He didn’t stop, didn’t turn back for it. No, he didn’t care about the cage anymore, the fine metal. The ground flew beneath his feet and he leapt onto a woodpile, jumped to the top of the wall and over with the agility and speed of a much younger man. If he woke any of the guards, he didn’t notice, and no one moved to stop him as he landed on the ground beyond.

  Ingrid arched an eyebrow as he snatched an apple from the tree and bit into it, sucking so that none of the juice escaped him. He thought he saw her smile, but couldn’t quite tear his attention from the succulent fruit in his hand long enough to be sure.

  “You cheated.”

  He paused, blinked at Ingrid. “Excuse me?”

  Ingrid crossed her arms, but she wasn’t looking at him. “I did not.”

  “You did. He was going to take the cage.”

  It was coming from the firebird. Tyr swallowed his bite of apple, then took another bite as he eyed the creature on his arm. It made no move to escape, no move to attack. Just sat there. Though it did seem to be giving Ingrid a rather disapproving look.

  “I did not cross the wall and I did not call out to him. I did nothing to stop him from taking what he would.” Ingrid shrugged one shoulder. “I did not cheat.”

  The firebird eyed the tree and the low-hanging fruit. Then it pointedly glanced around at the rest of the forest and the bare limbs of the surrounding trees. Finally it turned to Tyr. “These apples have no magic, are not made of gold. Yet you would rather have a fruit than the cage you coveted so badly?”

  Tyr swallowed again, barely managed to a
nswer before taking another bite, his lips caressing the flesh of the apple as he spoke. “Yes.”

  The bird waited as he chewed, obviously expecting more. He sighed and swallowed, using all his willpower to answer before taking another bite. “Gold, I have. It travels well and can be found anywhere, even on the sea.” He looked at the apple in his hand and smiled as he raised it for another bite. “Apples are the greater treasure.”

  Ingrid smiled even as the bird tilted its head in a way only birds could do.

  “I think,” the firebird said slowly, “that you are not a very good pirate.”

  Tyr ignored the bird. Its opinion mattered little to him, and there was more fruit to be had. He eyed the tree and its bounty. “How many of these apples do you think we could carry back? Are you wearing undergarments under that dress? I could make a sack of them, I think, if you don’t mind a drafty return walk. I’ll have the men look away, I swear it.”

  The witch’s cheeks turned a charming shade of pink. “I’ll do no such thing.”

  “You could fit quite a few in the cage,” the bird said slyly.

  “Now who’s cheating?” Ingrid said under her breath.

  The bird made a strange avian sound in its throat that might have been a laugh. Then it nodded. “So be it. Take your next step, pirate. So-called pirate,” it added.

  Tyr glanced back, unable to resist one last glimpse of the cage he’d nearly stolen. His eyes met nothing but forest, dark trees for as far as the eye could see. Tyr almost choked on his apple, coughing until tears leaked from his eyes. “It was all an illusion?” he wheezed.

  Neither Ingrid nor the bird answered him. Ingrid walked back toward the ship, her gait as leisurely as if she’d just stepped out of her cottage for a stroll, with none of the caution that the dark forest deserved. Tyr took off his hat and set it on the ground, ignoring the judgmental stare of the firebird as he filled it with as many apples as it could hold.

  It wasn’t easy picking up a hat full of apples with only one hand, but where there’s a will there’s a way. He braced it as best he could against his chest then followed after Ingrid.

  It wasn’t until the ship came into view that her shoulders tensed, her spine going rigid. Tyr slowed his pace, stopped beside her as she stared at the gangplank. His stomach clenched as he watched the last of the joy drain from her expression, her eyes widening as she tried to keep the tears at bay. He knelt down carefully, setting his hat and its precious load on the ground.

  Smalls was waiting and when Tyr nodded to him, he scurried down the gangplank with dizzying speed. Neither of them said anything even though they both watched Ingrid.

  Slowly, Tyr handed the firebird to the first mate, the only man on board he would trust with a prize such as it. Smalls took the bird and sandwiched it under his arm like a chicken. The firebird snapped its beak in mild annoyance, but didn’t offer protest. He boarded the ship and headed for Tyr’s cabin as Tyr turned his attention back to the petrified woman beside him.

  Cold sweat broke out on her forehead and he could feel her power rising with her fear. The earth below him grumbled like a hungry stomach, a strange groan that made it seem far more alive than dirt had any right to be. Ingrid’s breath came in short, quick pants and she stared at the ship as if it had grown teeth, opened a mouth to swallow her whole.

  She jumped when Tyr laid a gentle hand on the small of her back.

  “You will have my gratitude always for this, Ingrid,” Tyr said quietly. “Trust me to get you home safe.”

  “You have your firebird.” Ingrid swallowed hard, still didn’t look at him. “I saved you. I didn’t have to, but I did, you know I did. Leave me here. Let me stay on land.”

  Tyr stepped in front of her, placing a hand on the side of her face and cupping her jaw until she met his eyes. “Your promise is nearly fulfilled. Come with me one last time to deliver the firebird, see that it is safe on its journey. I will return you home as I swore I would.” He drew a thumb across her cheek in a small caress. “Trust me.”

  She didn’t speak, but her shoulders sagged. He stepped back, dropping his hand from her face, though he remained close by her side. She took a step onto the platform, clenching her teeth. Tyr returned his hand to the small of her back, but didn’t push. He stood there, silently offering support.

  You bastard, you should let her stay.

  Tyr stomped down on the voice in his head, blocking out its shaming tone as he led Ingrid back to what had been his private quarters before she’d come on board. He tried not to look at her, but he couldn’t help it. Her eyes were closed tight, her breathing too shallow, and her pale face shone with sweat. He wanted to believe she was able to keep her eyes shut because she trusted him to lead her, but he suspected the reality was she couldn’t bring herself to open them.

  You don’t need her to deliver the firebird.

  She said it’s a quest. It starts with the firebird, but it doesn’t end there. I would have taken that cage if she hadn’t been there, what else might happen if I let her go now?

  She is suffering. You should have let her go.

  I promised I would return her to her own land, not abandon her in Dacia. The Dacian royal family is a kiss of vampires and winter holds the land for nine months out of the year. What kind of place is that for an earth witch from the sunniest realm in Midgard?

  The argument continued in his head as he and Ingrid arrived at her room. It wasn’t until he put a hand on the doorknob that he remembered the arrangements he’d made with his crew before they’d docked. He held his breath as he pushed the door open, hoping his crew had done as he’d asked.

  The scent of freshly turned earth struck him like an overly enthusiastic hug from a long lost friend. Ingrid’s eyes flew open immediately, her body vibrating against his palm. She stood there, gaping, her soft lips, almost white from being pressed together so hard, parted in shock.

  “I cannot bring the land itself onto the ship,” Tyr said softly. “But perhaps this meager floating island can ease your journey?”

  Ingrid took a shaking step closer, staring in wonder at the five large trunks full of soil. His men had stared at him strangely when he’d told them to bring the “dirt” on board, but they’d accepted his logic that it was best to keep the earth witch as calm as possible on the return journey.

  Ingrid walked toward the trunks of earth as if in a daze, her hands rising to reach for them far before she stood in front of them. Tyr tapped the stump of his left hand against his thigh, a strange nervousness filling him as Ingrid sank to her knees before the largest chest then leaned over to bury her arms up to her elbows in the soil.

  He was about to say something, ask her if the soil would help, but before he could speak, Ingrid leapt from her place on the floor. She snatched something from the bed and half-hurled herself back to the trunk, plunging her hands deep into the soil.

  Seconds later, something rose from the depths of the trunk, a trembling brown shoot vibrating as green leaves peeled back from its slick bark. White blossoms tinged with pink followed, filling the air in the cabin with the sweetest scent on the gods’ earth. Tyr’s breath caught in his throat, his heart twisting and his feet carrying him a few steps forward without any urging from his brain as the blossoms ripened before his eyes, becoming polished fruit to put any jewel to shame.

  Ingrid kept her hands in the soil, staring up at her creation like a mother watching her child laugh for the first time. Her eyes seemed more alive than they had been before, the shades of green shifting as though Tyr were looking at a tree canopy rustling in the summer breeze. She’d never looked more beautiful. More right.

  The rush of blood in his ears was deafening, the thud of his heart like thunder. He stared at the apple tree then slid his attention to the empty chest that had held the dead seedling. The seedling, his pathetic attempt to remind himself of the life he had once turned his back on, the life he wanted back more than anything else. She’d brought it to life.

  “Have a tast
e?”

  Tyr jumped, nearly swallowing his tongue as Ingrid seemed to magically appear before him, the scent of apple blossoms clinging to her skin. She gazed up at him with those living green eyes, a yellow apple spotted with shining streaks of red held in her upraised hands. Tyr leaned forward without meaning to, sinking his teeth into the apple’s flesh. Juice trickled from the corners of his mouth, the rich flavor exploding on his tongue. He closed his eyes, savoring every drop, every caress of the fruit against his senses. Surely even Valhalla had nothing so sweet as this.

  There was a tug at his hip and the metallic ring of a blade. He froze, eyes flying open in time to see Ingrid heft his sword until it was even with his stomach. He barely had time to open his mouth, let alone defend himself. Ingrid arched an eyebrow and used the blade to cut a large slice of apple, looking into his eyes the entire time. The movement was awkward, since the large blade was not meant for such things as cutting fruit, but she managed to keep the strain from her face, offering a slice to him with a smile playing on her lips.

  “You enjoyed that a little too much, I dare say,” Tyr muttered, taking the fruit. He allowed an answering smile to twist his lips even as his legs trembled with the aftermath of the adrenaline rush. “There may be a bit of pirate in you after all.”

  Ingrid stepped forward, crowding his space, and Tyr’s eyebrows shot to his hairline. From this vantage point, he had an excellent view of her generous cleavage and he nearly forgot the fruit entirely as Ingrid pressed her breasts against his chest.

  “A bit of pirate in me?” she echoed, her voice playful, considering. “You know, all of a sudden, that doesn’t sound like such a horrible thing.”

  Tyr blinked, certain he must be imagining the suggestive tone in her voice. She couldn’t mean… He stared at her, gazing into her eyes as if he could somehow read her soul.

  Before he could decide, Ingrid pressed the slice of apple against his mouth. He ate it, worries melting away on the rush of pleasure such a treat brought to him. After a moment, he gave up, deciding to enjoy Ingrid’s pleasant mood, regardless of its cause. He had her promise to help him. And they were in the middle of the sea.