Veritas

by St Clare, Kelly

  “Silence,” one of the beasts bellowed.

  Clothes were thrown at her fathers’ feet.

  “Change into these. You will be presentable.”

  The Satyr clearly had some serious hang-ups about presentation. And why did Ebba have a strong suspicion these clothes had belonged to people who were now dead?

  “I’m pr’sentable,” Peg-leg countered.

  “You smell of an animal.” The Satyr knocked her father back with his spear.

  He hooked a doublet, eyeing the garment. “That’s rich comin’ from ye, goat-man.”

  The butt of the spear was driven into Peg-leg’s stomach, and Ebba gritted her teeth, glaring at the Satyr until he stepped back.

  “Satyr have a complex about bein’ half-animal,” Plank whispered to their group.

  That explained the vanity thing. “And their flutes?”

  “Used to . . . seduce. And to talk with each other at long distance, from what we can tell.”

  Sure enough, a trilling sound echoed from the direction of the lagoon. The leader smirked at Ebba, and her hands curled into fists.

  They’d found Jagger and Caspian. Bugger it.

  “Don’t all look at once, but,” Stubby said, jerking his head, “behind ye.”

  The entire crew looked.

  Stubby hissed at them. “I said don’t all look at once, ye eejits.”

  All of them glanced away.

  Her father muttered about fools to himself. “One at a time.”

  Ebba stole a peek first.

  There, around fifteen feet behind them and hung on pegs in a row against a small shelter, housing all manners of rope, sat five mesh nets.

  The root parts.

  She faced forward again and waited as the others took their turns to look.

  “We take the leader hostage,” Barrels whispered, shrugging on one of the new tunics with ruffled cuffs.

  Ebba shook her head. “They be violent. I ain’t sure that’ll cut it. But,” she said, lifting her eyes to Plank’s, “they be tainted inside. We can heal them. And use the dynami to hold ‘em off.”

  Peg-leg pulled on the purple doublet coat. “The sword be handy just as a weapon too. And I’m thinkin’ that rope will be best o’ all around their legs. They don’t bend like ours; it’ll be hard for them to get free.”

  “Quiet,” the leader snarled.

  The crew of Felicity spread out in a line, and Ebba concealed her smirk. They had a plan. They’d wait for Stubby’s call.

  They could still get out of this.

  Both Caspian and Jagger were bleeding when the Satyr returned, throwing them to the ground before the rest of their group.

  Ebba scowled at the Satyr leader and watched as Barrels and Peg-leg leaned down to help the younger men. She watched as their mouths moved, no doubt whispering the plan to the pair.

  “I thought ye said ye needed us all in one piece,” she said to the leader loudly. “I hope yer boss won’t punish ye for mishandlin’ the goods.”

  The Satyr regarded her and dismissed her.

  “Geordian,” another beast hushed in his ear. “The pass will soon open. If you want to deliver them this night, we must leave now.”

  “Shake a leg,” roared Stubby, bursting into action.

  She sprinted alongside Grubby and Plank for the ropes. Her hands closed around them and she tossed three coils back overhead to the others before lunging for mesh nets. She hurriedly ran down the line, ignoring the shouting turmoil at her back. Scio, amare, dynami.

  Ebba grabbed the third and whirled. “Jagger,” she yelled.

  He turned, and she lobbed the dynami to him, not waiting to see if he’d caught it.

  She jumped as Caspian ran up beside her. He ripped open the net holding the sword and drew veritas out, leaving her to join the battle behind them.

  The purgium. Grinning grimly, Ebba fumbled with the net and managed to draw the silver tube out.

  “Drop it,” snarled a beast.

  She ducked, and her eyes widened as a fist crashed into the wooden wall where her head had been. Ebba spun in her crouch and pressed the purgium against the Satyr’s leg.

  The beast dropped like a sack of shite.

  “Ha! Purgium worked,” she called to Barrels.

  More of the creatures broke through, and Ebba widened her stance as they rushed her.

  A boulder smashed into the one on the far right, and everyone stilled to watch as the line of Satyr charging her were knocked over like dominoes. Not by a boulder. A man.

  Jagger, bare-chested and looking every bit the tribesperson, rolled to his feet, recovering from his tackling assault. Dynami in hand, the pirate plucked the closest spear from the ground and plunged it into one of the fallen Satyr.

  Caspian sank the veritas into another. They worked down the line together, and Ebba looked past them to where her fathers had successfully tangled the ropes around other Satyr’s legs. Some roamed free but they circled the anarchy warily, waiting for their moment.

  Ebba reached back. The scio. She gripped it in her other hand.

  “I need someone else to hold the last part,” she called, watching as some of the Satyr worked around the edges of the clearing toward her.

  She held two. She wasn’t about to test if holding three was possible.

  The rest of her fathers clutched the ends of the ropes to restrain the tangled beasts.

  “Jagger,” puffed Plank. “Swap with me.”

  The leader of the Satyr glowered at Ebba, slowly stalking toward her. “Come and get it then,” she shouted at him, holding the purgium aloft. “Ye’ll end up dead just like yer goat friends.”

  Ebba didn’t know if the creature she’d dropped before was actually dead, but the leader couldn’t know either.

  Jagger sprinted to switch with Plank. He took the rope, and her father jogged to her.

  The Satyr leader launched himself at Ebba, bearing down on her with a flurry of lethal hooves and coiled muscle. He spun his spear before him effortlessly. Her gut warned her there was no getting the purgium past that weapon in such skilled hands.

  But he couldn’t get the parts. The pillars couldn’t get the parts. They couldn’t get her or her crew. She had to keep the Satyr away from the root.

  Breath coming fast, Ebba turned and reached for the bag with the amare inside. Her fingers gripped the mesh.

  White light exploded, and a scream ripped from her throat as a surge of undiluted power slammed through her like a tidal wave, picking her up and throwing her.

  Her mind and body numbed. She landed. Hard. And rolled amidst a tangle of limbs.

  She could feel her eyes were open but could only see white. A ringing filled her skull, drowning out all sound, and as she attempted to sit, Ebba wavered on the spot and fell back down. Hands dragged her up.

  She leaned heavily against the body of one of her fathers. Black punctured the white light in her head. Shadows formed, and outlines appeared. Ebba blinked to help her vision, but all that remained was blurriness and fuzziness.

  “The leader has Plank,” Peg-leg whispered in her ear.

  She could barely discern his words through the high-pitched whine in her ears.

  Ebba came to realize she still held the purgium and the scio, as though they’d melded to her hands during her stunned flight. Where the amare was, Ebba had no idea. The three pieces had exploded when she tried to hold them. What had they done to her?

  “Is Plank okay?” she croaked.

  There was movement behind her, and Ebba turned, still blinking on repeat. The Satyr in the ropes were recovering. Peg-leg sighed and took the scio from her belt, throwing it at the ground before them.

  Surrender?

  They were surrendering?

  Her heart beat fast. This was her fault. She should have obeyed the warning in her gut and not touched the third piece. “Is Plank all right?” she asked again.

  “Aye, he’ll be fine, lass,” he answered. “They’re comin’ for the purgium. Drop it
in the bag.”

  That couldn’t be it. They’d so nearly gained the upper hand.

  “Nay,” she said.

  “They have a blade to his throat. We’ll live to fight another day. Ye do as I’ve said.”

  Her harsh inhale echoed in her ears, in time to the deep thud in her chest. She’d ruined their chances of getting away, but she wouldn’t be responsible for Plank’s death. That would be too much to bear.

  As the Satyr approached, Ebba felt for the mesh bag and dropped the purgium inside.

  That was it. The fight was over.

  Twenty

  Stubby and Plank all but carried her the first half of the walk, even restrained as they all were with ropes around their necks. She’d regained her sight after thirty minutes or so, but for a blurriness at the very edges. They’d found blood dripping from her ears, too. That was now dried and scrubbed away at the forceful insistence of the Satyr.

  As they were shoved north at a fast clip, Ebba replayed the obliterating moment she’d held the three parts of the weapon at once. The force that tore through her was five times stronger than when she’d been thrown from holding only two parts.

  But that wasn’t important right now.

  Ahead, the island tapered to a point. Ebba peered at the rocky outcrop, which extended into the distance farther than she could see. It was almost like a stone jetty leading away from the island, wide enough for only one person.

  Though flat on top, large jutting stones bordered the outcrop on each side, disappearing down into the eddying sea.

  Where did the jetty go?

  They were stopped and forced to their knees in a small space at the entrance of the rock jetty. Only a few Satyr could fit there with them while the rest crowded the way they’d come, blocking their escape.

  To her astonishment, the leader dragged her upright and planted her at the start of the never-ending jetty. He placed the mesh net holding the purgium in her hand.

  Was he serious?

  “Walk,” he snarled, rearing back out of reach. The Satyr jerked his head to where one of his herd held the tip of a spear to Grubby’s throat.

  Walk where? She couldn’t see the other side. Or did the path just lead into the middle of the Dynami? If so, why give them the weapon parts when they’d gone to so much trouble to collect them?

  . . . With a sinking heart, Ebba realized the jetty must lead to the Satyr’s boss.

  She placed one bare foot on the outcrop to placate the leader then asked, “Are my crew comin’ with me?”

  “You will all go,” the Satyr announced. “But hurry,” he said with a hard smile. “Once the path is cleared, there is only enough time to reach the other side before the tide closes in again.”

  Seemed a shaky security for their safe delivery to the big boss.

  What was to stop her crew from jumping off and swimming? Ebba glanced either side of the path. From here, she could count six small whirlpools. She’d wager a guess the eddies grew far more powerful the farther out the jetty went. Not water they wanted to swim in.

  The urge to refuse hovered on the tip of her tongue. Yet how could she with the spear to Grubby’s throat?

  They weren’t getting out of this. She shrugged, feeling the loose strands of her dress slip across her back. “Okay.”

  Turning, Ebba walked out on the pathway that split the Dynami Sea, the net containing the purgium in her hand. Once a fair distance away, she carefully rotated back to the Satyr. They were already forcing Jagger on after her.

  They shoved a mesh net at him. The amare.

  The pirate worked his way toward her, displaying the grace she knew came from his childhood in the rainforest. She watched as the Satyr did the same with Caspian and the veritas. Then Grubby and the dynami, Plank and the scio, followed by the remainder of the crew.

  “They said we be havin’ just enough time to reach the other side,” Jagger said in an urgent undertone.

  She wasn’t leaving without all of her fathers.

  “Don’t let me fall in,” she told him. Ebba leaned out and peered back at the island. The Satyr had gathered around the start of the jetty now, their spears extended out to block escape.

  She sighed, exhaustion stabbing at her temples. “We’re all on the path. The Satyr be blockin’ the way off. We ain’t gettin’ out that way. Oi,” she shouted. “We pushin’ onward?”

  “They’re jabbing spears in my back,” Barrels yelled.

  That was that, then.

  Ebba swallowed and turned, eyeing the endless jetty that led to a place she was certain none of them wished to be.

  “We need to get goin’, Viva.”

  She moved her lips. “I don’t think we should. I have a bad feelin’.” That they were walking toward the pillars.

  There was a shuffling behind her. “Don’t mind me freezin’ me nipples off without a tunic,” Jagger said.

  Ebba coughed and shook her head. “Do ye need yer tunic?” she called back.

  “Nay,” he answered. “Keep it until ye get other clothes.”

  “Thanks,” she said.

  “But yer dress will get in the way, methinks. Ye need yer legs free.”

  Right enough. Ebba leaned down and lifted the long, breezy ends and tied them up above the side of one knee. “Better,” she declared.

  She started forward at a pace Peg-leg and Barrels could manage.

  Ebba raised her voice so Caspian would hear. “Thanks to both of ye for findin’ me. I was right terrified alone with the Satyr.”

  Jagger snorted, close behind her. “Ye looked like ye were ready to do battle. Yer green eyes blazin’ fire. Yer lips pressed together like they do when yer ravin’ mad. I was afraid ye’d do me in.”

  “I still will if ye’re not careful,” she said, studying the path.

  “Perhaps I should be more reckless then.”

  Jagger was teasing her. Flirting with her.

  Suddenly, every place on her back that Jagger might be looking at was alight with awareness. Her skin there prickled, and she straightened, her easy lop growing awkward and irregular.

  His words thrilled her, exhilarated her like nothing else ever had. And yet she wished he wouldn’t say such things in the prince’s hearing. Caspian was right behind Jagger. Until she spoke to him, she didn’t want to exacerbate his jealousy.

  “Did the Satyr hurt you, Ebba?” Caspian called.

  Ebba sighed, focusing on the ground ahead. “Nay, not really. Just frightened me, I s’pose. I was hurt more by holdin’ the three parts than anythin’ else.”

  “We were all thrown to the ground,” the prince replied, his voice drifting forward over the sound of slapping waves and the low howl of the wind. “I wonder why you can hold two pieces of the root and not three.”

  “No notion.”

  “Maybe ye need practice,” Jagger said.

  Ebba hummed. “Nay, my gut warned me not to touch the third part, but I didn’t listen. And it doesn’t matter, does it? We’ll just avoid that in the future.”

  The quiet after her words was the pregnant kind. Like when her fathers had whispered secrets to each other before Pleo.

  Jagger and Caspian were keeping something from her. “Out with it,” she demanded, wiping away the spray from her eyes.

  She had no idea how far they’d walked so far, but the other side wasn’t in sight. Was the water rising already? The heavy darkness made it hard to tell.

  “We had a few days with the kraken while catchin’ up with ye,” Jagger said.

  “He recalled more about the three watchers?”

  “Aye. Some.”

  What she wanted to do was stop and listen, but she forced her body to continue walking at a steady pace. She blinked as the scene before her changed. What could be a sliver of land at the end of the path appeared on the horizon. Either that or her eyes were playing tricks.

  “And?” she said impatiently.

  “One of us is the bearer,” Caspian said. “Whatever that means. Matey needs t
o check his grandfather’s journals to clarify. Which I guess means that he has no idea.”

  Ebba smiled sadly at the mention of the kraken and glanced around the ocean. If luck was with them, Matey would miraculously appear, but they couldn’t count on that.

  “The bearer,” she repeated. “One o’ us bears sumpin’, then. Holds the weapon, mayhaps?”

  “Beats me,” the prince answered.

  Jagger replied, “Let’s hope if it be Caspian’s job, ye don’t need two arms for it.”

  Ebba’s eyes rounded, and a scalding insult balanced on the tip of her tongue.

  Except Caspian choked on a laugh. A laugh. At a joke about only having one arm.

  She bit her tongue hard, pressing back her protective instincts.

  “That would be a cruel trick,” the prince joked back.

  She couldn’t detect any bitterness or anger in his tone. The last she’d checked, Jagger had merely tolerated Caspian’s presence. Now the pair were bantering?

  Unable to help herself, Ebba glanced back at Jagger. He quirked a brow, and she faced forward again.

  “Don’t ye want to know what the third watcher be named?” Jagger asked her.

  Yes. And no. Ebba couldn’t decide. She could probably carry something, if she was the bearer. Could she choose?

  “Are ye scared, Viva?” he teased her.

  Utterly. “I think I can see the end o’ the path ahead. The jetty connects us to another island,” she said, almost certain the shadowed mass in front of them was real. If they could reach the island before the tide changed, they might live . . . to meet the Satyr’s boss.

  “Changin’ the subject. Aye, ye’re scared, methinks,” the pirate whispered.

  Ebba swallowed. “What if I can’t do what needs doin’? I can handle failin’ the realm, but I can’t handle failin’ my friends and family. What if I don’t just do what I’m meant to, like ye, Jagger? Ye just stand there and yer immunity works without effort. But what if I’m meant to do sumpin’, learn a skill, not just stand there.”

  Jagger snorted. “Thanks.”

  Despite herself, she choked on a laugh. “S’cuse me. That was rude.”

  “And accurate,” Caspian added.

  Jagger snickered with him.

  More banter. . . . What exactly had happened in the last four days?