“So,” he said, glad that his voice at least sounded sure and unaffected. “I’m here to rescue my men, and I feel it’s right that I mention up front that you won’t be able to stop me. Your turn.”
“I’m here to rescue a ... friend. And it’s only right that I also mention, you won’t be able to stop me.” Adella shifted on her makeshift seat, and Farran frowned slightly.
“A friend?”
“She’s more like family,” admitted Adella.
“Family that your own father thought to throw in the dungeons?”
For a moment, Adella did not seem so determined and sure. Her face fell, and she began to twist her hands in the fabric of her robes, looking for all the world like a lost and frightened child. Finally she said, as though every word hurt her, “My nursemaid. And Antos’s wife. You
remember my —”
“I remember,” said Farran, recalling the portly man who had been accompanying Adella on her ride down the beach. “Go on.”
“She’s been with me since my mother died, which is before I can remember. And she is family, closer than blood. But yesterday, when the news of pirates reached my father, he ... didn’t react well.”
“Why, though?” asked Farran. It had, in fact, been bothering him ever since he first saw the notices. “Piracy is nothing new. Parts of this continent were built by pirates! It’s a part of your history, and your future. Why is he fighting it?”
“Just piracy he can turn a blind eye to,” she said softly. “But dark magic he cannot. And the new ship they speak of ... it’s said to hide in the shadows and be captained by powers not of this world. And my father ... reacted badly.” She stopped twisting her robes and instead met Farran’s eyes. “He accused my nursemaid of practicing dark magics. Evil witchcraft. Not the healing spells and potions, the ones she’s been Blessed with. But the kind that killed my mother.”
That, Farran could see on her face, was a different story. And Farran found he wanted nothing more than to hear it. He wanted to hear everything this woman ever had to say, dull or exciting and everywhere in between. But instead, he asked, “So, your father had her sentenced.”
“Her and several others,” said Adella. “Men and women who’ve never done him any wrong, but who he’s now convinced have something to do with the same magic that’s brought pirates to our waters.” Now, she began to grow irritated again. “I wish I could say it’s the first time he’s done this,” she growled. “And if I had my way, it would be the last.”
“As charming as it is to hear the inklings of patricide in your voice,” said Farran, “we’ve got to be ready to move when the moment is right. So, this nurse of yours. Do you know where they’ve got her?”
“Right next to your men, in a cell with the rest of the accused commoners,” she supplied helpfully.
“And how exactly did you plan on getting her out of the city?”
“I have my ways,” said Adella. A coy smile was playing at the curve of her lips, and the untamed spark had returned to her eyes.
“This isn’t your first jailbreak, is it?”
“Certain of my father’s condemned have been known to disappear from their cells from time to time,” said Adella casually. But it was with an entirely new level of fascination that Farran looked the young woman up and down.
“Why, Lady DeMorrow, you are something of a vigilante, aren’t you?”
Adella sighed dramatically. “If you must call me by such a common name, then yes.”
“And what would you prefer I call you?” teased Farran.
She paused, then answered cattily, “I haven’t given myself a proper title yet, thank you.”
Farran laughed quietly, but fell silent again almost at once as another set of footsteps made its way toward them. Not a sound filled the storeroom, not even breathing. And then, as the slightly staggering footsteps disappeared, Farran gestured for her to follow and strode quickly to the door. “We should have a few minutes until he comes back. If he comes back at all – I swear he gets drunker with every round.”
The hallways were empty, but both Adella and Farran drew their knives just in case. They could hear the quiet, defeated muttering of prisoners down the hallway, as well as the distant laughter of lazy guards who had foregone their posts. Farran let the woman lead, keeping close on her heels and marveling at the nimble silence of her feet. They turned a corner, and Farran held up his hand at once to stop his men reacting.
They were split between two cells, and they began to perk up when they saw him. Adella went at once to the next cell over, where she gripped her nursemaid’s hands through the bars.
“We’re here to get you out!” said Adella with barely a whisper.
“My lady, you shouldn’t have come!” the old woman answered, but relief and gratitude were painted clearly across her face.
Without wasting another moment, Adella set to picking the prison lock with a practiced hand. Farran left her to it, instead gesturing to his own men to stay back as he addressed the lock on the first cell. For a moment he hesitated, then motioned for Edwin to step forward. “Stand right at the lock,” he muttered, so only his friend could hear him.
Edwin obliged, his body blocking the lock from view of the other men. Farran placed the palm of one hand flush against the keyhole.
“What are you doing?” hissed Edwin, but Farran ignored him. Within seconds, the whole mechanism heated up and began to melt, and with a quick twist Farran yanked the now-shapeless blob from the bars and swung the cell door open. For a moment, Edwin met his gaze, and an unspoken question hung in the air. Edwin’s eyes spoke of confusion, and the merest hint of accusation. And then, the pirates surged past them, and the moment broke like a severed string. But as Farran moved to the second door, he could feel Edwin watching him. And he knew that, not now, but someday very soon, he would have to explain himself.
Farran didn’t have a human shield to hide his magic with the second door, but it wasn’t necessary. No one was watching him anymore, the men were too busy with whispered clamoring and looking around corners on the chance that their guard would return. And by the time Adella was finished picking her lock, both cells of pirates had been opened and emptied. The hall was filled with a fierce whispering like an overexcited breeze, and Farran gestured for silence.
“They will know we’re gone,” said Farran, in a low but commanding rumble, echoed by the thunder outside. “There is no way for nearly fifty prisoners to simply walk through town unnoticed. And so, we fight. I will take you as far as the side gate, where I’ve hidden weapons, and then I have business to attend to with the chancellor.” There was a supportive growl at this, as well as a sharp intake of breath from Adella, but Farran continued quickly. “We meet at the ships. You’ll have a better chance of escape in small groups, but don’t get left behind!” he said urgently. “Once we begin, the ships can’t wait in the harbor for long, they’ll be soft targets, waiting dead in the water.”
“What about the others?” asked Edwin, nodding at the cell of commoners Adella had freed.
“They will come with me,” said Farran. Then he pointed at a handful of his men, all strong fighters and trusted officers. “You five, you will make sure they all make it safely aboard the Laila.” There were general nods of assent, then Farran took a moment to look over all of his fine crew. Then, he saluted them like a proper navy gentleman, and they returned the gesture.
With that, he took Adella by the arm and led the way through the halls.
They came across three guards on their way outside, and each was quickly silenced before they could raise the alarm. No need to draw attention until they had to. As they went, Adella let herself be dragged alongside Farran, but as he quietly ushered the men outside, she held him back.
“What ‘business’ do you have with the chancellor?” she demanded. When Farran didn’t answer right away, she said imploringly, “He is still my father, and this is my town. And my life, once I make sure my people have made it safely out of the
harbor. I have to live with whatever choices you make here tonight.”
There was a pleading in her eyes, but it was a mark of strength rather than desperation. Farran nodded once, and squeezed her shoulder briefly before ushering her outside to her waiting escorts. Wind-driven rain spattered against the stone walls of the keep, and thunder made the whole city vibrate like a loosed bowstring. But beneath it all, they could hear the shouts of the exterior guards. They’d been spotted.
The men began to take up arms from where Farran had hidden them by the gate, tucked beneath rocks and in thick patches of shrubbery. The pirates began to scatter, making it impossible for the guards to chase them all at once. As Edwin prepared to run, Farran took him by the arm, and pulled him into a rough, brotherly hug.
When they pulled away, Farran kept hold of his friend’s arm for a moment more, and met his eyes with a fierce determination. “We will meet at the Magistrate’s Harbor, my captain!” he said over the sounds of the rapidly growing storm. “This I promise you, by the pirate god’s own sails!”
They let go, and Edwin smiled wolfishly. Then he raised his own sword high into the air, and shrieked a warcry the likes of which Farran had never heard from the young man. His pirates took up the call as they ran, fighting their way down to the docks. Farran could hear them as he turned to venture back into the chancellor’s land. Their yawls made sweet harmony to the thunder and the rain, with the clash of blade meeting blade and the occasional pops of black powder explosions.
But Farran kept them all at his back. Let his sea dogs take all the prizes they liked. The lord of all pirates had but one prey tonight.
✽ ✽ ✽
With every step of his thick leather boots, Farran left behind a footprint. But it was not the footprint of a mortal man, an easily discarded impression in the dirt or a muddy scuff on a stone walkway. Each was the deep, powerful footprint of a god on a mission. An angry god.
Wherever he stepped, he left behind a small crater. A charred, glowing cast that would forever be burned into the earth where Farran walked. A smoldering trail that led through Chancellor DeMorrow’s estate, and to the most opulent rooms in the western tower, overlooking the harbor. There, the chancellor lay sleeping, blissfully unaware that his most valued prisoners were fighting for freedom in the city streets, and that his own daughter was proudly in their midst.
Farran watched the sleeping chancellor for a few moments, listening to the storm rage outside, and fighting his own furious urge to incinerate the chancellor right where he lay. But the pleading in Adella’s eyes kept him in check, and instead, he issued a sharp kick to the frame of the bed, startling the chancellor into wakefulness.
The man looked up and saw Farran standing over him, and scrambled away from him across the silk-strewn bed. He shouted for his guards, but Farran smiled nastily at him.
“Your lackeys are otherwise occupied,” he said, a false calm in his voice. “It’ll be just the two of us, I’m afraid.”
“Who are you?” demanded Chancellor DeMorrow. “What do you want from me?”
“I?” asked Farran. “I want nothing from you. You summoned me, don’t you recall?” Farran drew closer, taking deliberate, measured steps around the far corner of the bed, where the man sat cowering with his back to the wall. “You dared the pirate god himself to challenge your rule over this town and these waters. Our names are not to be thrown about as lightly as your death sentences and executioner’s rope. How can you seem surprised when he answers your call?”
The chancellor’s face grew sickly pale, and he tried again to call for help, but all that emerged was a mewling squeak. Farran was mere feet away now, and Chancellor DeMorrow was gazing up at him in petrified disbelief.
“You’re not ...” he whispered. “You can’t possibly be!”
In one motion, Farran seized the huddled man by the front of his sleeping gown and hauled him upright, slamming him against one of his gilded bedposts. “I am the shadow that sailors fear,” growled Farran. “I am the storm in the heart of the sea, and the greed of every privateer.” As he spoke, the floorboards beneath his feet began to spark and smoke. “I am the soul of every black flag, the weight of every stolen coin, and the heart of every shipwreck!” And then, Farran’s very countenance began to change. Faint hints of scale patterns began to show just beneath his skin, and seaweed began to weave its way through his unruly black hair. Farran could feel saltwater coursing angrily through his veins, every inch of him raw and volatile power ready to burst forth like a dammed river. And Farran roared, “I am the First Sailor, God of All Pirates! I am Farran Arthelliad, and you will kneel!”
He released Chancellor DeMorrow, who fell to the floor with the resounding crack of at least one broken ankle. The chancellor hunched himself over in supplication, hands clasped before him, horrified tears flowing freely.
“Forgive me,” he whispered. “I was foolish, and I beg you to spare me.”
Farran breathed deep, forcing the brimming pool of his powers back, taking control of his shape once more. When he was certain he appeared human, he went to the window and gazed out at the storm. He addressed the man on the floor.
“My men may be far from innocent, but they are still my men. I do not fault you for trying to have them hanged. You’re not the first, and you certainly won’t be the last.” Farran could see his ships in the distance, and see his men beginning to raise the sails. With a quick mental whisper, Farran eased the storm over the Laila. No need to make it harder on them. “But there were many in that keep tonight that shouldn’t have been,” he continued. “You’ll find I’ve taken them as well.”
“Anything, you may have anything, my lord,” gushed Chancellor DeMorrow.
Farran smiled and turned away from the window, pocketing a set of silver candlesticks from a nearby table as he did so. “I will take you at your word on that,” he said. And then, he crouched to the chancellor’s level, looking him straight in the red-rimmed eyes. “I planned to drown you in your sleep,” he said conversationally. Almost gently, even. “Just there, lying on your bed as you were. I could fill your lungs with ocean brine and watch you flail like a fish on a wire.” And then, he leaned in closely and said, so quietly and deadly sweet that it made the chancellor cringe, “But I made her a promise. You’re her father, after all, and that isn’t her fault.”
At this, the chancellor found a spark of his nerve again. “Adella? Where is she? What have you done with her?”
Farran ran an almost tender hand down the long, black braid hanging over the chancellor’s shoulder. He stood, letting the hair run slowly through his hand like a twisted snake. And then, he straightened his vest with a sharp tug, saluted the chancellor, and said with a wicked grin, “You did say I could take anything.”
✽ ✽ ✽
The docks were a mess of bodies and flooding and the final, lingering moments of battle. As Farran rode in on Adella’s fine black horse, with her manservant Antos perched precariously behind him and clutching tightly around his waist, a triumphant cheer rose from the pirates, and sails began to fly. Adella herself rushed forward to embrace Antos, and then she ushered him aboard the Laila to join his wife. Then she turned back, uncertainty and unasked questions painted across her face.
“He is alive and unharmed,” said Farran as he dismounted, and Adella relaxed noticeably. He handed her the reins, and Adella followed as Farran made his way down the docks to where his ship waited for him.
“I know he doesn’t deserve it,” admitted Adella. “The things he’s done to some of the people in this town, in his own household ...” She reached up and absently stroked her steed’s cheek. “But he’s my father. And ... his life will be mine, someday.”
“It doesn’t have to be,” said Farran, turning to face her. And then he purred, “That’s not a life for you, back there. Come with me.”
A feverish excitement filled Adella’s eyes, but she shook her head jerkily and held tighter to her horse’s reins.
Farran smiled
and leaned in close. “The whole world is waiting for you, Adella DeMorrow. Where would you choose to see it from? The deck of a wave-tossed adventure, with the wind in your hair and every shoreline ripe for a sunrise gallop? Or reading about it from behind the chancellor’s desk?” He held out his hand, and whispered once more, “Come with me.”
For a moment, Adella looked back at the rain-washed streets of her city. She turned her gaze on the stone towers of her father’s land, and the storm-tossed wreckage of the ships in the harbor. When she turned back to Farran, there was an eager smile tucked in her perfect lips, and the spirit of adventure glowing on her rain-soaked face. She took his hand, and Farran brushed his own lips against the back of hers like a proper gentleman. As he led her and her black horse on board, the Laila set off. The storm lifted, and the clouds parted to reveal a brilliant sunrise. A playful breeze danced through the rigging and across the decks, starting to dry the pirates’ clothes and making Adella’s hair furl back like a black pirate flag. And as they left the coast behind and sailed off into the Gossamer Sea, Adella laughed. And the music of her laughter was the only song Farran ever wanted to hear again.
Chapter Twenty-Four
The Nightmarket
In town, at the markets and shops and fairs, each merchant was on his own. The friendships that were born in the spaces between disappeared like morning dew in the midday sun, only to be rediscovered again as soon as the cities were left behind. But at market, it was all bartering and knocking elbows and shouting louder than your neighbor. And for a man simply playing at being a merchant, Farran was a surprisingly adept tradesman. He was charming with the ladies and joked easily with the men. He traded for fresh supplies and new socks and some sort of heavy, moist bread simply bursting with nuts that seemed to be popular in the area. Fox found himself watching “The Incomparable Donovan” in awe.
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