Snake Heart

by Lindsay Buroker

  “You can keep it in your hand, as long as your hand is on my ship.” Pey Lu continued toward him.

  “No, you don’t understand.” Yanko tightened his grip about the lodestone, ignoring the paperclip that dug into his palm. “This is a rock, Mother. Susceptible to earth magic.”

  Could he break it? He truly didn’t know, but it sounded like a logical argument. And it made Pey Lu pause.

  “You’re not going to destroy it,” she said, glancing toward her pirates.

  Yanko sensed a few fingers tightening further on the triggers, so he created a wall of air around himself. “You don’t think so? You’re right in that I can’t let the Turgonians have it, and I’m not sure if you’re really giving it to the Kyattese, or if you have some less scrupulous backer in mind.” A flash of surprise crossed her face when he said that. Surprise, not indignation. He’d only been guessing, but now he wondered if it might be true. “If our people can’t have it, then nobody gets it,” he finished.

  Silently, Yanko urged Dak, Arayevo, and Lakeo to make an appearance, hopefully with weapons. He didn’t want Pey Lu hurt, but he wouldn’t shed a tear for any of those pirates aiming at him. Unfortunately, he couldn’t check on his comrades, not while maintaining his shield.

  “I don’t believe you.” Pey Lu started forward again.

  Yanko hopped back to the boulder behind him, but he couldn’t go far. The cliff rose at his back.

  Kei? he asked, hoping the parrot was close enough to hear him, because he dared not divide his attention and truly focus on the call. He shared an image of the lodestone, of Kei coming down and grasping it with his talons and taking it to... Arayevo. She would be the most likely to fulfill his mission if he fell here.

  Pey Lu waved a hand, and Yanko’s barrier was stripped away from him, like a cloak being torn off. He jumped back one more boulder and tried to grasp the shreds with his mind. When that failed, he hurled another gust of wind at the pirates to give himself time to rebuild his protection. Once again, the wind passed by his mother without affecting her, but her men stumbled and fell, all of them this time.

  Pey Lu lunged for him, throwing an attack of her own. Even though Yanko had recreated his barrier, it did not matter. His feet left the ground as he was smashed into the cliff behind him.

  As he tumbled into it, he glimpsed familiar blue and red feathers above him. He hesitated, knowing his mother could easily target the parrot if Kei had the lodestone. As Pey Lu came close, Yanko launched a familiar mental attack, the imagery of fire burning her. He flung the rock into the air, hoping she would be too distracted to see it. He tried to fill the pirates’ minds with the fire imagery, too, though he didn’t know if he had that range. All he knew was that he would protect Kei, even if it meant exposing himself. The pirates were scrambling back to their feet, and his mother’s eyes burned with concentration—he knew she was preparing another attack before it struck.

  He launched his own first, channeling his power into the boulders under her feet. They heaved, unbalancing her even as she unleashed her own attack. Yanko was aware of Kei flying back down the beach, the lodestone grasped in his talons, and felt a flash of triumph before he was slammed against the cliff again, hard enough to blast the air from his lungs. A second attack tried to burrow into his mind, a copy of the mental inferno he had produced, and for an instant, he thought Pey Lu had truly unleashed a fireball at him. Then he turned his defenses inward, constructing walls around his thoughts.

  He was so busy concentrating on magical defenses that he wasn’t ready for the fist that slammed into his stomach. Pey Lu grabbed his hand, forcing his fingers open.

  “Where—” She cursed, flinging his hand away and spinning toward the beach, her senses surely telling her where the lodestone had gone.

  Kei was still in sight. He needed more time to get away—or get to Arayevo, wherever she was. Yanko kicked the back of Pey Lu’s knee, then channeled his power into the earth once again, all of his power.

  This time, the rocks did more than shake. The earth heaved, knocking them all to their knees, Yanko included. Boulders split open, shards flying everywhere. One slammed into a pirate’s shoulder like a spear. A head-sized rock crashed into Pey Lu, knocking her against the cliff.

  For a moment, her defenses were down. Yanko could have attacked, but he already felt bad for what he had done. He’d had to protect Kei, but—

  Something black spun out of the shadows to the side of Yanko, coming from the opposite end of the boulder-strewn beach. Pey Lu gasped in pain—further pain. A throwing knife—no, a throwing star—stuck out of the side of her neck.

  Eyes widening in shock and rapid understanding, Yanko jumped to his feet to protect her. A second throwing star streaked through the air at them. This one bounced off his shield.

  Pey Lu tore the first weapon from the side of her neck, heedless of the blood that streamed out with it. Yanko didn’t think it had hit her jugular, but he couldn’t be sure. He whirled to face her attacker. The white-clad mage hunter crouched in the rocks, half hidden by the shadows. How had she gotten her weapons? He’d last seen her in the brig.

  Yanko sneered and prepared another attack, one that would shake the earth at the hunter’s feet, but gunshots blasted through his concentration. They came from the direction of the beach. The pirates?

  No, the pirates were taking cover, all except for Gramon who had seen Pey Lu get hit and was racing across the boulders as fast as he could. Dak, Arayevo, and Lakeo charged down the beach toward the rocks, all three armed with swords and pistols they hadn’t had earlier. The pirates ducked down behind the boulders and fired back, though their attention was split between Yanko’s comrades and the mage hunter.

  “Get back,” Gramon snarled at Yanko.

  He had been protecting Pey Lu, not hindering her, but the Turgonian ripped her out of his arms. He carried her back toward the other pirates, barely noticing when he slipped and stumbled over the jumbled boulders.

  Out on the beach, Dak shot anyone who dared to aim at him, somehow anticipating their attacks and launching his first. When he ran out of bullets, he simply tossed the weapon to the side and yanked another from his belt. Arayevo and Lakeo were more cautious, using the bumps and bulges of the cliff face for cover as they advanced, shooting when they weren’t being targeted themselves.

  Yanko was torn between running toward them and watching the mage hunter, who had ducked behind the cover of a stunted tree, but who seemed to be looking for another opportunity to strike at Pey Lu. Yanko kept a barrier of air between the mage hunter and the rest of the battle, not wanting any more throwing stars to surprise people in the back. He didn’t know if Pey Lu could keep up her own defenses—even if she was still cursing and giving orders, an alarming amount of blood stained the shoulder and sleeve of her shirt.

  When Gramon reached his allies, only two of the pirates remained standing. The others lay crumpled on the rocks, bleeding from bullets that had struck with deadly accuracy.

  Dak dropped to one knee and aimed at the Turgonian, or maybe at Pey Lu. Yanko couldn’t tell from his angle.

  “Stop,” he yelled, using magic to augment his voice, to be certain it would be heard. In case Dak wasn’t inclined to listen, he hurled a blast of energy at his hand.

  He jerked in surprise or pain, and the pistol fell from his fingers. Before it hit the sand, he was pulling a second weapon out, but he looked toward Yanko before raising it.

  “Let them go back to their ship,” Yanko said.

  He hoped Pey Lu had someone on board who could stop the bleeding, heal her wound before... Yanko swallowed. She was his enemy—his people’s enemy—and he couldn’t deny that, but he also couldn’t deny that he no longer wanted her dead. Maybe he never had. All he ever wanted was to redeem his family’s honor, however that could be done.

  Gramon did not look back at Yanko as he collected his other two men and carried Pey Lu through the boulders and to the beach. Several moments passed as Dak held his pistol, not
raised and aiming at them, but not lowered, either.

  Yanko glanced toward the mage hunter, worried she might target someone else if she couldn’t strike at Pey Lu. But she had disappeared again. When he checked the area with his mind, he sensed her already a hundred meters or more away, climbing the cliff since her section of beach had ended at a rock wall. Trusting the climb would keep her busy, Yanko picked his way toward Dak. Arayevo and Lakeo had joined him, their weapons aimed at the two pirates trailing Gramon and Pey Lu. They were still armed, though one carried an injured comrade over his shoulder and would not be fighting anyone. The three other pirates who had come with the group had died due to Dak’s expert shooting.

  Yanko knew they were pirates and accepted that they had probably killed innocent people—they had certainly been ready to shoot him, had Pey Lu given the word—but he couldn’t help but be upset by the carnage. He and his comrades kept whittling away at his mother’s fleet—men and ships—even though she had not treated him like an enemy. Even when she had come for the lodestone, she had chosen attacks that would not kill him. If she had been more forceful, maybe she herself wouldn’t have been injured.

  When Gramon grew even with Dak, he looked over at the man—they were of similar heights and builds, and one might almost take them for brothers. Dak glared back, the curl to his lip making it clear he would like to kill the pirate—all pirates. At first, Gramon’s return glare was equally baleful, but then a jolt of surprise went through him. Of recognition? Nothing similar crossed Dak’s face, and Gramon recovered and continued on without speaking.

  “Are you all right, Yanko?” Arayevo jogged over to him, gripped his arm, and looked him up and down for injuries.

  “Fine,” he mumbled, watching Gramon continue down the beach. Dak’s hard eye turned to follow them, as well, and he kept his purloined pistol in hand, though down at his side.

  “Why wouldn’t he be fine?” Lakeo asked. “He fell off a cliff and got attacked by a warrior mage and an infamous pirate.”

  “That was her, wasn’t it?” Arayevo stared after Pey Lu, though she was barely visible around Gramon’s broad back. “Will she live? Did you do that, Yanko?”

  “Not me.” Yanko waved a hand toward the place where the mage hunter had hidden, waiting for an opportunity to strike, like a viper.

  Before he could decide if he wanted to explain further, a familiar squawk came from the sky. Kei soared toward them, flapping more vigorously than usual to stay aloft. He still carried the lodestone in his talons, though the paperclips had fallen off somewhere. He dropped the rock as he flew past Yanko. He caught it and stared down at the artifact. Even though he once again felt its pull, and the power within it sang to his senses, he found it hard to believe that so many people had died to find the thing. How many more people would die before this was over? He eyed Dak warily, well aware that the Turgonian ships that his mother had promised were Yanko’s only way off the island. Maybe that was why Dak did no more than glance at the lodestone.

  Kei circled, landed on his shoulder, and spoke a stream of Kyattese words as he shook out his talons like a scribe shaking a cramped writing hand.

  “That wasn’t one of his usual terms,” Arayevo said. “Does he actually know something besides insults?”

  “He said, ‘More worthless than a pregnant whore,’” Dak translated. “Referring to the lodestone, I assume, not Yanko.”

  Arayevo blinked. “It’s hard to believe the Kyattese had a citizen crusty enough to teach the bird to say those kinds of things.”

  Dak grunted. “Honest enough, is more like it. Those people don’t speak plainly very often.”

  The pirate boats had all left the beach by the time Yanko and the others reached the water’s edge. As his mother and Gramon disappeared onto their ship, the first Turgonian ironclad came into view, clouds of black smoke wafting from the twin stacks protruding from its deck. It had neither sails nor the elegance of a wooden ship, and Yanko couldn’t see its black hull as anything but ominous as it followed the contours of the island, heading for an anchoring spot in front of the beach. The situation felt even more ominous when several more black-hulled ships came into view, following the first.

  The pirate vessels sailed off before the ironclads drew close. Yanko wondered if he might have been better off going with them.

  Dak headed toward the water, a spring in his step that did not match Yanko’s mood. Happy at the idea of being reunited with his people, was he? He did not look back as he strode away. Just trusting Yanko to follow?

  “Are we going with him?” Arayevo asked quietly.

  Yanko peered toward the cliffs behind them. They could climb up, the same way the mage hunter had, but to what end? The island was not that large, and with that many ships, the Turgonians could bring a hundred men ashore to search for Yanko. If he went along peacefully, Dak might arrange for Yanko, Arayevo, and Lakeo to have a cabin, rather than a cell. A cabin would be easier to escape from if an opportunity arose. Though as more ironclads steamed into view, Yanko could not imagine what that opportunity might be. Even his mother, assuming she survived her injury, wouldn’t be so foolish as to take on an entire Turgonian fleet.

  “Yanko?” Arayevo bumped his arm.

  “Yes. We’ll go with him.” Yanko sighed and trudged after Dak.

  Chapter 21

  The wooden longboat was simple, unassuming, and unthreatening compared to the massive iron ships anchored out in deeper waters, but the ride did nothing to still the nerves battling in Yanko’s stomach. His wrists were not bound, and nobody had taken the lodestone from him yet, but he sat on a hard bench, fenced in by towering Turgonian soldiers with polished boots and pressed, white uniforms. His eyes were even with the men’s shoulders. Arayevo and Lakeo occupied the bench behind him and were similarly hemmed in. Dak rode up front. For some reason, he warranted his own seat.

  The oarsmen stole glances at Yanko between strokes as they rowed the longboat toward the closest ironclad. Perhaps because he wore the warrior mage robe, he rated more attention than the women. Or maybe it had to do with the parrot sitting on his shoulder, a parrot who kept planting images of a stack of seeds in his mind, an unsubtle reminder that Yanko had promised a treat in exchange for the legerdemain with the lodestone. He hoped he would find an opportunity to repay Kei for the favor, and he also hoped the captain of the ship didn’t try to make the parrot stay behind.

  The looks from the Turgonians ranged from curious to hostile. Dak received a few covert glances, too, though nobody had spoken to him since the young officer in charge of the longboat had greeted him on the beach. None of the crew seemed to know who he was or how he had come to be on the island with a handful of Nurians, but the officer had called him, “sir.” It was one of the handful of Turgonian words Yanko knew. That didn’t tell Yanko much, since any senior officer would receive that honorific. At this point, Yanko would be shocked if Dak didn’t turn out to be a high-ranking officer.

  “That thing’s bigger than the island,” Lakeo muttered as the longboat drew close to the massive iron hull. The ship towered over them, blocking out the sun and half of the sky.

  The oarsmen turned the longboat sideways, then grabbed hooks that dangled down from above on chains. They inserted the hooks into reinforced eyelets at four points on their little craft, and a distant clanking sound came from above. Yanko grabbed his seat when the longboat lurched out of the water. Dak did not react.

  As they were hoisted to the deck, Yanko rested his hand on the bump in his pocket, the hard outline of the lodestone. He wondered if his threat to destroy it would work on the Turgonians. It probably wouldn’t work on Dak. He knew too well what this mission meant to Yanko. At least the Turgonians shouldn’t have any mages on board, since their culture dismissed magic. Yanko hoped his own talents would give him an advantage, but they had never helped him get the better of Dak, and his robe would ensure these people knew exactly what he was.

  A second longboat, also with a crew of soldiers,
was lowered down from another part of the ship as a mechanical arm moved Yanko’s craft inward. As soon as it touched down, the oarsmen scrambled out. Dak hopped out, too, and Yanko followed, offering a hand to Arayevo and Lakeo. Neither accepted the help, climbing out on their own and looking around. Arayevo’s eyes were bright and curious—this was just one more adventure for her. Lakeo scowled at all the large, muscular men working on the deck. A few looked over at the newcomers—the captives, Yanko amended glumly—but most went about their tasks with professionalism. Yanko didn’t see any women and recalled that Turgonians did not have female soldiers.

  “Lord Colonel Starcrest?” a gray-haired man in a black uniform with a lot of silver medals and badges walked up to the group.

  Dak turned toward him, and the two men exchanged salutes. “Lord Fleet Admiral Ravencrest.”

  That was all of the conversation that Yanko understood, for the men lowered their salutes, clasped wrists, and spoke rapidly in Turgonian, the admiral quite enthusiastic and animated and Dak his usual taciturn self. Half of his answers were grunts. Surprisingly, the admiral seemed eager to please. Yanko had the impression that Ravencrest was the lower-ranking man, though that shouldn’t be the case. The Turgonians had ground and naval troops with different ranks and hierarchies, but Yanko believed an admiral outranked a colonel, especially a fleet admiral. They both had warrior-caste names, too, though Yanko didn’t pretend to have any knowledge of whether all of those families were considered equal or if some had greater standing in Turgonian society, as was the case with Nurian honored families. He did know that—

  “Starcrest?” Arayevo murmured. “Isn’t that...”

  “The Turgonian president’s surname, yes.” Yanko had no idea if there were ten Starcrests in the empire or hundreds. There were White Foxes whom he had never met, so he wouldn’t assume Dak was a close relative of the president. Still, when he remembered how Dak had known the Komitopis family, he wondered.

  “Does that mean he’s in charge and we’ll be treated well?” Arayevo asked.