Stolen Crown

by Shawn Wickersheim

  “I won’t have him on my ship.”

  It took Josephine a moment to figure out Kylpin’s meaning. “If not for Garett’s help, I don’t think we stop Ragget.”

  Kylpin shook his head. “Fine. I won’t kill him, but that doesn’t mean he gets to stay.”

  “Where else can he go?” Josephine nodded back the way they’d come. “You saw the tower.”

  “What’s a little fire to him?”

  “The stairs are gone.”

  “I’ll help him down.”

  “The way you helped him on the gangplank?”

  “It was a risk I was willing to take.”

  Josephine opened her mouth to say more but changed her mind. Nothing she said now was going to change Kylpin’s mind and if she pressed him too hard, he might turn against her too. “Can you fly this?”

  “You think changing the subject will change my mind?”

  “No, I just want to know if you can fly this thing.”

  Kylpin went back to the controls. “I think so. For being a ship used by a wind mage, I’m surprised to find it incorporates the use of fire and water too.” He pointed to the metal tubes that ran through the ceiling, past the bank of levers and disappeared under the deck beneath their feet. “From the looks of it those are filled with hot water, and by maneuvering these levers here and the wheel there the water is directed to various locations and the warmth coaxes the air element to move one way or another.”

  Josephine nodded. She remembered watching her father one summer years ago harness the power of water and steam to create a variety of little machines. He’d never told her what he’d intended to do with his inventions, but that had been her father’s way. Always holding back secrets . . .

  Ragget’s dire words echoed in her mind. She shoved them aside. Her father was no villain!

  “How much time do you think you’ll need to figure all this out?”

  Kylpin shrugged. “An hour. Maybe less.” Josephine felt a tremor beneath her feet. “I don’t want to weigh anchor . . . or, hell, I suppose it’d be more accurate to say, release the tether, until I’ve got the controls sorted out.”

  Garett burst into the room. “We’ve got to go now.”

  Kylpin scowled at the young man. “I was just telling Josephine-”

  “Ragget’s Tower is breaking apart. If it goes while we’re still attached . . .”

  The tremor beneath Josephine’s feet grew stronger.

  Kylpin stabbed a finger at the door. “Go! Get us unhooked. Now!”

  The fire mage dashed away. Outside, a low groan emanated from the Tower and the tremor became a strong shudder. Josephine braced herself against the wall. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  Kylpin pointed to one of the windows. “Watch Garett. The moment he casts off, let me know.”

  The groan grew louder and was joined by an angry rock-against-rock grinding noise. The ship bucked and overhead came a high-pitched whistling shriek which caused the hairs on her arms to stand up.

  “What was that?” she demanded.

  “My guess,” Kylpin said, wrapping his hands around a pair of levers. “That was an unhappy air elemental.”

  Josephine’s gaze bounced between Garett and the undulating air sac overhead. Each time the material stretched she winced. If the old elemental escaped . . . she shuddered at the thought of them falling out of the sky.

  Garett nimbly raced across the rolling deck to the gangplank and began tugging on the heavy coil of rope, but the shaking and bucking had tightened the knots and the tether refused to budge. After a couple of unsuccessful tries, he pulled a knife and began sawing at the thick rope.

  “C’mon, c’mon . . .” Josephine muttered.

  A man appeared suddenly at the stern of the ship, climbing up from somewhere below deck. Josephine straightened. The man drew a sword and darted toward the fire mage.

  “Garett! Behind you!” Josephine shouted a warning.

  The fire mage whirled around and at the last moment turned the man’s violent slash aside with his knife. Kylpin glanced over his shoulder out the window and cursed. “That’s Mason,” he told Josephine. “Shoot him.”

  Josephine drew her crossbow and tried to line up a shot. It was no good. The two men were fighting too close and the ship was moving too much.

  “Shoot him!” Kylpin urged.

  “I can’t. I might hit Garett.”

  Kylpin’s look suggested he didn’t care.

  Another eruption shook the Tower. Stones and debris scattered across the carefully manicured garden below. The terrible sound of grinding rocks split the air. With a jolt, the airship began to slide backwards, tugged along as the Tower began to keel over. Kylpin shoved a couple of levers all the way forward and a moment later the air elemental made an odd huffing noise. The front of the mighty air sac bulged, and the wooden airship creaked and groaned and the tether and all the rigging snapped taut. Both Garett and Mason lost their footing and fell against the railing.

  “We can’t win this tug-of-war,” Kylpin shouted. He shoved a third lever forward. “We have to cast off before the ship tears apart!”

  The nose of the airship rose higher even as the Tower tilted more. Josephine braced herself against the doorframe and sighted down the crossbow’s tiller. The droning in her head grew louder. She inhaled and exhaled slowly as the two men continued to fight. Garett was quick, but Mason was bigger and stronger and wielded a longer weapon. Josephine was surprised the young fire mage was still alive.

  “Shoot!” Kylpin shouted again. He leaned against the three levers. Overhead, the air elemental’s roar sounded like a thunderclap.

  Mason slugged Garett in the mouth with his free hand and raised his sword overhead. Garett sagged against the railing, blood spilling from his split lip. Josephine exhaled and squeezed the trigger. The Tower gave one last groan and began to crumble. The bolt slammed into Mason’s back between his shoulder blades. The airship bucked and reared like a frightened stallion. Garett slipped between the two bars of the railing. Mason pitched over the top rail. Kylpin lost his footing and fell. To catch himself, he grabbed the wheel. Josephine clung to the doorframe to keep from sliding out of the cabin and down the wildly canted deck. Garett struck the tether and managed to grab hold. Mason fell past him and disappeared into the chaos that was the crumbling Tower. Kylpin’s weight spun the wheel to one side. The airship veered left while its nose strained for the clouds. Garett sawed at the rope. Strand after strand snapped. Like a felled tree, the Tower began its long slow descent.

  The tether broke. The airship surged nearly straight up corkscrewing toward the afternoon sun. Josephine climbed across the cabin floor toward Kylpin. He was hanging one-handed from the wheel, dazed, a bump forming on his forehead.

  “Pull the levers back,” he murmured.

  Another thunderclap and another. A deep groan from the ship and its rigging.

  Josephine climbed past Kylpin and stretched out a hand for the first lever. She was only inches away. With a grunt, she lunged ahead, got her fingers wrapped around it and used her weight to ease it back. The airship continued to climb. Using the lever as a brace, she pulled herself up and grabbed the other two controls. At first, they didn’t want to budge, but eventually, she eased them back. Nothing happened. They continued to climb.

  “It’s not working!”

  “Wait . . .” Kylpin shouted over the creaking of the mighty ship.

  “Try something else!”

  “Wait . . .!”

  The nose tipped over and the airship gradually leveled off, though it continued to circle the immediate area until she helped Kylpin to his feet and the wheel was reset. Garett returned shortly after, bloodied, bruised, battered, but alive, and since Kylpin didn’t immediately order him out of the cabin, Josephine took that as a promising sign. Philson limped on deck and joined the group moments later apologizing for not helping in their escape and explained that a cask had slid across the galley floor and pinned him against the wal
l.

  “If I’d been . . . uh, uh . . . fatter, I might have been able to shove it off,” Philson added. He looked down at himself and shook his head. “I can’t remember the last time I was this . . . uh, uh . . . small.”

  “No matter, my friend,” Kylpin said. He pulled the bartender over and pointed out the window. “Look at that.”

  Far below, Ragget’s Tower burned, sprawled across his vast garden.

  “Isn’t that a sight, my friend?”

  Philson flashed a smile and nodded.

  Josephine’s smile faded quickly. Off to the west a plume of smoke caught her eye. She pointed. “Isn’t that the Belyne Military Academy?”

  Kylpin followed her direction and his eyes widened in alarm.

  “Tyran!” they blurted out at the same time.

  chapter 63

  The instant Devin Ragget became aware of the agonizing pain, even before he opened his eyes; he sought a way to avoid it. His mind and body raced to find a solution, a path through this dense jungle of suffering. He tried to shapeshift, but his malleable internal body could not alter his burnt outer shell. He tried to patch the twin holes Josephine’s knives had opened in his chest, but that section of his body was lost to him and beyond repair. It simply would not respond to his mental command. Like a paralyzed limb, Stephano Di Rygazzo’s poison had effectively killed that area of his body.

  And once he pushed past the pain and focused on the dead spots in his chest, he realized the numbness was incrementally spreading.

  Impossible! He was on the verge of finally achieving his dream. He had destroyed the Gyunwarian hold on the city, the foreign ambassador was dead, and he had opened the Hellgate and his ancestor, the dark god had given him . . . had given him . . .

  Bad memories returned. The dark god had not been his ancestor and that damn actress, and her motley band of disreputable fools had ruined everything. They had forced the Hellgate to close somehow and he had been expelled from Hell and then he’d felt the heat and the world had fallen away and . . . and . . .

  Had he returned to Hell?

  He forced his burnt eyelids open and the world around him was a blur of harsh light and too bright colors. Devin Ragget winced and tried to block the glare with his hand. Fiery pain ran up and down the length of his entire body and he immediately let his arm fall back.

  Where was he?

  His violet eyes swung around, and it took him only a moment to realize he was lying on the blue velvet settee in his first-floor sitting room next to the fireplace. He cringed away from the fire, but even the slightest movement sent a new lightning bolt of pain racing throughout his charred body. His gaze drifted away from the fire and he found Cecily standing a few feet away just watching him. Cecily? He blinked. Last he’d seen her, she’d been running away from the carriage, dress torn, and her hair a mess. He had enjoyed being brutal to her, punishing her for her transgression, breaking her spirit and yet . . . He blinked again. She stood over him, looking . . . looking proud and . . . and . . . whole. Her green eyes bore into him. Never had they been so green and so . . . so . . . vibrant. And her blonde hair. Each strand glowed. And her face. She looked like she’d swallowed the sun. And her skin . . . he realized she was holding his hand, his burnt hand. His crispy skin crackled beneath her velvety soft touch. He should feel pain and yet, he did not. He only felt her smoothness. She was so very soft and smooth. And her fragrance. A heady mix of sex and sweat and passion. It filled his horrid black lump of a nose, filled his muddled head, and filled him so fully he thought he might burst.

  It almost made him forget he smelled like burnt rotting meat.

  “I dismissed Hoggins,” Cecily said. Her voice was low, both in pitch and volume, a husky whisper which poured into his melted ears like honeyed milk. “I know he’s just a senile old mudder you kept around for appearances.”

  Devin didn’t say anything. He didn’t know if he could. His throat felt so raw.

  As if guessing his concern, Cecily stroked the side of his neck, her gentle touch like a cool soothing balm.

  “You look . . . amazing . . .”

  She smiled. “I’ve made a few changes.”

  “How did you find me?” He slurred, forcing the words past his lipless teeth. With a bit of concentration, he thought he might be able to recreate them.

  Cecily waved the question away. “It doesn’t matter now, does it?” She smiled, and the old thrill trickled up his leg. “All that matters is that you’re here with me and all in one piece.” Her green eyes traveled over his body. “More or less.”

  Her fingertips fluttered down his chest, dancing lightly across his red-black crust. Wherever she touched him, healthy skin appeared. Tiny pink islands randomly dotted his torso, his stomach. Perhaps given enough time, she’d somehow be able to restore enough of his strength that he’d be able to heal himself completely. The cold bite of the poison crushed that dream almost immediately.

  No, she might be able to somehow heal his flesh, but he’d never quite be the same again. Eventually the poison would overwhelm him, and he would die.

  Cecily’s spritely fingers tiptoed lower.

  “No . . .” Devin Ragget croaked. “I can’t . . .”

  Cecily’s green eyes brightened as she stroked his charred penis, returning it to life. “I say you can.”

  Devin Ragget grunted. After what he’d done to her earlier, after he had humiliated her, hurt her, she was willing to have him again? It made no sense. He knew her. She was a proud woman. She would never . . .

  His eyes rolled up and his eyelids fluttered as her manual manipulations worked their magic. Questions and concerns fled his mind. He didn’t care how she was doing what she was doing, just as long as she kept doing it.

  With a toss of her long hair and a shrug of her shoulders, Cecily’s dress seemed to melt away leaving her standing before him utterly naked. The light from the fireplace danced across her taut skin, her full firm breasts, her sculpted legs and hips. Sluggish blood awakened. He swelled further, jutting toward the sky, toward her as she straddled his hips.

  “You just lay back and let me do all the work,” Cecily purred as she lowered herself down around him. Snug, tight, warm. Devin Ragget sighed.

  She leaned forward, her hands resting heavily on his shoulders, her fingertips curling around and digging into his back. He winced, waiting for the healing sensation to occur. This time, nothing happened.

  “Cecily,” he whined.

  “Shhhh!” She closed her eyes and worked her hips harder, harder.

  Devin Ragget squirmed against the pain. Her fingers dug into his blackened flesh.

  “Cecily!” he screamed.

  “Yes! Yes! Give me more!” she shouted. Her green eyes snapped open and she stared down at him. “More! Like in the carriage earlier. More! Do you hear me? Give me more!”

  “I can’t. It hurts too much!”

  She slapped his cheek. His head snapped around. The blackened skin on the side of his face ripped. A chunk tore loose and landed on the carpet. She backhanded him, and his head swung around the other way.

  “I said give me more, bitch!”

  Tears leaked down his ruined cheeks.

  “Don’t just lay there crying!” she roared in his face. “Give me more!”

  Devin Ragget struggled to do as she asked. Earlier, a mere thought had added length and girth to his already impressive size, but now, he was working against the poison and his burnt flesh and the pain. Oh, the pain!

  Gritting his teeth, he forced a bit more of his malleable form into his penis, into her. He bore deeper and deeper, but unlike earlier, she didn’t scream, she didn’t beg for him to stop, she only smiled wider and wider. She settled her weight down on him and wiggled her hips.

  “Is that all you’ve got?” She arched an eyebrow. “I think you’re still smaller than Amarias.”

  Jealousy flared. A newfound strength surged through his ruined body. With a smirk of his own, he shoved even more of himself inside her. Le
t her say that again. Let her say anything if she can. Let her-

  An iron grip clamped down around the root of his penis. It was like some giant fist, squeezing and holding him fast.

  “Cecily?” Devin Ragget grunted. Despite the pain, he tried to shift his hips, to withdraw. He was stuck fast.

  “I told you, I’ve made some changes.” Her green eyes narrowed in concentration.

  Something sharp, something very much like . . . jagged teeth . . . clamped down on the head of his penis and bit it off. Devin Ragget howled. While the bulk of him remained intact, a very small part of him was moving, moving, moving through utter blackness.

  “After I left you, I had a . . .” Cecily stopped talking, but her jaw continued to move. “. . . meeting with . . .”

  It seemed as if she was . . .

  “. . . An old . . .”

  Regurgitating something.

  “. . . Acquaintance,” she said around something in her mouth. She spat, and the head of his penis flew straight into the fire. There was a moment when he felt the searing hungry heat, and then it was gone, and he was just one body again, only diminished just a little.

  The giant fist holding his mangled penis pulled and a bit more of his malleable body disappeared inside her vagina. He fought against the iron grip, but he couldn’t break its grasp. Snapping teeth clamped down on another two or three inches of his elongated manhood and moments later, Cecily spat another gob of his flesh into the fire.

  “Stop!” he cried as he felt the tugging begin again. “You’ve made your point.”

  “What point is that?” Chomping teeth took off another few inches.

  “I’m sorry!” he moaned. Maybe if he could keep her talking, he could form a couple of extra hands and push her off him. Except his burnt husk wouldn’t allow any such changes.

  “You’re sorry?” Her vaginal fist yanked another six inches of his pliable mass inside her and fed it through her teeth-lined cervix. “About what, dear?”