“The marshall? Impossible.”
“I assure you, it’s him.”
“He’s a hero known through the area,” I said, defiant. “A good man.”
“It’s him. There can be no mistake. He cooperates with pirates, shipping things to and fro from the straits. I have witnesses who’re willing to back up the claim, if my word isn’t good enough.”
I sat back and rubbed at my chin. It was a shame I couldn’t hear Zelfree’s thoughts. I remained quiet and still for a prolonged moment, as though the information just wouldn’t sink in.
“I believe it,” Calisto stated.
I glanced over, an eyebrow raised. “Oh?”
“Think about it. The Marshall of the Southern Seas only answers to a handful of people in the world, and those people aren’t out sailing the waves with him. He doesn’t need to concern himself with anyone or anything. Why wouldn’t he do whatever he wanted? The pirates offer him money and magic on the side—it makes sense to me.”
A part of me wished I were there. Power didn’t corrupt everyone—there were good people in this world that used their influence and magic for the better. Zelfree must’ve agreed with me because he immediately said, “You’re wrong. I’ve been sailing with Ruma and Eventide and other arcanists from the Frith Guild. They could get away with what you’re talking about, but they don’t.”
“Feh.” Calisto waved away the comment. “It’s only a matter of time, then. You’ll see.”
The dream-memory melted away a second later, cutting off the discussion and leaving me shocked. I knew Master Zelfree had killed the previous Marshall of the Southern Seas, but I had never heard the full story. Now it made more sense. He had been rooting out corruption.
But a typhoon dragon? All dragons had devastating magic, and their arcanists were counted among the strongest. Had Zelfree mimicked his and fought on the open waters? I almost couldn’t wait for Adelgis to show me, but at the same time, I was confused. Zelfree had an infamous reputation for killing the marshall. Why hadn’t it come to light that the marshall had been corrupt?
When the colors of the dream returned, they swirled and formed into a new environment—a new memory. I was back on a boat, this one much nicer than even the Red Falcon. Polished wood, lavish rugs—furniture that displayed both form and function. I sat inside an officer’s lounge, the kind found on a ship-of-the-line, some of the largest and most battle-ready ships that ever sailed the ocean.
Again, I found myself with Calisto, Hellion, and Traces. The many chairs around the conference table were empty. Traces leapt from one to the next, giggling while Hellion playfully chased her, swiping in her general direction without ever connecting. Calisto stood next to the windows overlooking the sea. Waves splashed against the side of the ship, misting the glass with salt water.
I fidgeted with a letter in my hand, the message reading:
Dearest Everett,
I relayed your information to the Marshall of the Northern Seas, hoping to get official sanctions for activities. We were denied, and he demanded all investigations come to a halt. Arcanist guilds don’t answer to a single authority, but to go against the marshall could anger other nations. Both marshalls are held in high regard. I fear there are people in the shadows who are trying to halt our efforts.
Guildmaster Gin and Guildmaster Anton have both withdrawn their offers of assistance in this matter.
When next we meet, I’ll go over our latest plans.
Liet Eventide
No one had wanted to stop the mystical creature smuggling? The other guilds had turned their backs on the investigation? That was odd, but I understood that it was worthless to get worked up. Again, these memories had taken place decades ago—whatever had happened was long over.
It still irritated me, though.
I thought… the arcanists guilds were meant to handle matters that pertained to all arcanists. Like this one. Why would any nation impede Eventide’s progress? Perhaps she was right. Perhaps people were working against her.
“What’re you doing?” Calisto asked, jerking me from my thoughts.
I folded up the letter and then twirled it. “I need to return to the Frith Guild. We can stop at New Norra and I’ll disembark there.”
“Why don’t we just handle the Marshall of the Southern Seas ourselves?” Calisto asked. He turned away from the window, his shirt open, revealing the unicorn horn trinket he wore around his neck. “That arrogant bastard doesn’t think he’s able to be touched. Your mimic is our element of surprise.”
“He sails around on a flagship surrounded by navy vessels,” I said, sardonic in all regards. “My mimic isn’t going to stop the twenty arcanists who answer his command or even have an effect on their cannons. We need more of a plan than power through everything. What we need is solid evidence.”
“Why isn’t the Frith Guild riding in to stop this right now?” Calisto stormed away from the window. “They’re so noble and just—what’s stopping them?”
His manticore rushed to his side. When Calisto took a seat on a nearby chair, he kicked one of his boots onto the table and leaned back. Hellion threw himself into his lap, despite being close to 300 pounds of muscle. Calisto groaned, but didn’t push the beast off. Hellion flapped his leathery wings to stabilize himself. His scorpion tail swished from side to side. Somehow, even though he was a monstrous griffin, he offered his arcanist a rumbling purr.
“The Frith Guild needs to act within the boundaries of the law,” I said, glancing down at the letter another time. “Eventide wants us to discuss our next course of action.”
“The Marshall of the Southern Seas is allowing pirates through the Lightning Straits, right?”
I nodded.
“We’re pirates. Why don’t we work with the marshall and get in good with him? That’s the fastest way to figure out what the old lout wants—and it’s the fastest way to gut him when he’s not looking. We can gather whatever evidence you need.”
“It’s not a bad plan,” I said. “It just lacks finesse. I need more time to think of something else. Maybe Eventide will have a clever idea.”
Calisto let his boot down, almost dropping Hellion onto the floor. Then he slammed his hand on the table, breaking it in his outburst. I flinched and jumped up from my chair. The shattered wood remained mostly intact, though splintered.
“What’s your problem?” I growled. “You’ve been acting wild lately.”
“I don’t have the problem, Everett. It’s you. Go on. Get out of here. Go to the Frith Guild and think of something. I’ll stay and run things until you bring back orders.”
“Things have gotten heated around here. You think you can handle the ship and crew on your own?”
That one question shifted the whole mood of the room.
Calisto stood from his chair, allowing Hellion down as he did so. The hackles of the manticore stood on end, its white fur shuddering with tensed muscles.
With a soft meow, Traces ran back to me. She was too large to fit into the pocket of my coat and instead transformed into a pair of bangles to hang around my wrist.
“Calm down,” I said with a half-smile. “It was an honest question. You know I meant nothing by it.”
Calisto didn’t reply. His hard-set gaze didn’t sit well with me.
Then he broke the silence with, “Haven’t you heard what they’re sayin’ in ports? That I was Captain Redbeard’s tool. That I’m your pawn. I’m gettin’ tired of this, Everett. I don’t need your help to run a marauder ship.”
I walked around the table and approached Calisto. If I had been in charge of the situation, I definitely wouldn’t have done that, but Zelfree didn’t seem apprehensive. He patted Calisto on the shoulder. “Lynus. C’mon. Keep the big picture in mind. We won’t need to run a petty ship full of corsairs once these seas are secured. We can move on. Together.”
Zelfree sounded so assured and youthful—almost the opposite of how I knew him as a master arcanist. He had said the words, smooth and
confident, no hesitation. Had he meant it? Was it a lie? Had he really intended to take Calisto away from the pirates? Why hadn’t he?
Calisto’s posture relaxed, but his expression never changed. It remained cold—callous.
“Aren’t you excited?” I asked, lightening the moment with a chuckle. “We’re going to prove you wrong, you and I.”
“What?” Calisto snapped.
“We’re arcanists. We have power, and answer to very few people. Yet here we are, on the brink of stopping pirates and restoring peace to the area. I’d even go so far as to say we’re on the side of good fighting villainy.” My volume increased with my enthusiasm. “Not even Liet Eventide has dealt with a threat this serious in all her time as captain. We’ll go down in history as heroes.”
“I don’t care about any of that,” Calisto stated.
I opened my mouth to say something else, but Calisto continued before I could interject.
“People, places—the world is infested with darkness. The only reason it hasn’t killed me yet is because I’m stronger.”
“No need to be so dramatic,” I said.
“Fine. Let me put it simpler, then. I’m not here to save people. It’s people who I hate—and who have always hated me. The majority are black-hearted scum. I’m here to help the only person I think is worth my time.”
Then…
The dream stopped.
I awoke a moment later, startled by the shift back into reality. Groggy and half-awake, I rolled to my side, confused by my surroundings. Where was I? A ship-of-the-line? The Third Abyss? The dream-memories were so lifelike that the transition blurred them together with reality.
Bells and shouting filled the hallway.
Adelgis sat at the center table in the middle of our cabin, one of the large tomes held in both hands. He stared at the far door, unmoving. The longer the yelling continued, the more agitated I became.
I stood and rubbed the side of my face. “How long was I asleep?”
“Fifteen hours,” Adelgis stated.
“Fifteen?” I snapped my attention to him. “What’s going on?”
“Calisto is alerting the crew,” Fain said from the shadows in the corner. He sat at the edge of his bed, unmoving. “I’ve heard those bells a million times. It means we need to get ready for ship-to-ship combat—he intends to attack someone.”
37
Bloodshed On The High Seas
Calisto planned to attack another ship? Karna had said this would be a one-way trip with no stops or distractions. If Calisto intended on harassing merchants or innocents while I was aboard, I would fight him every step of the way.
I stormed toward the door, all lingering ill effects of sleep long gone. Luthair kept at my feet, the agitation in his shadowy movements an indicator of his own anger. With barely contained rage, I exited into the misty corridor and made my way outside, onto the grayish deck of the Third Abyss. The late afternoon sun couldn’t completely pierce the magical fog.
The deckhands scrabbled from one swing gun to the other, stuffing ammunition into the cannons. Most were loaded with cannonballs, meant to rip through the hull of opposing ships, but two of the guns were loaded with chain shot—two balls connected by an iron chain. The chain shot would tear through rigging and break masts, preventing opposing ships from fleeing once the damage was done.
I pushed through the pirates on deck, intent on finding Calisto. They growled curses, but backed away once they eyed my arcanist mark. The smell of gunpowder filled the surrounding fog, adding to the atmosphere of violence. My pulse ran hot and fast.
The dense mist prevented me from seeing much beyond the ship. The deckhands all wore small glasses, each with dark-tinted lenses. They were trinkets imbued with kappa magic. Kappas could see through all darkness, fog, and miasma. The glasses allowed even non-arcanists to do the same. No doubt everyone on the ship could see beyond the ghostwood fog.
Calisto stood near the quarterdeck, his white glowing arcanist mark a dead giveaway. Karna stood on one side of him, Spider on the other. Calisto’s ivory manticore, Hellion, waited on top of the elevated deck, his freakish face mask once again set to “happy.”
“Calisto,” I called out.
He turned to face me, his arms crossed, his posture stiff. For a split moment, it seemed as though he didn’t recognize me, but that fleeting expression faded, replaced with irritation.
Karna leapt away from Calisto’s side. “Volke—everything’s under control.”
“You said he wouldn’t be attacking anyone,” I shouted as I reached her. “I won’t sit back while this blackheart harms innocent people.” I didn’t bother keeping my voice low or my anger hidden. There was no need to conceal my intentions.
“We said we wouldn’t target merchant ships,” Spider snapped. When she continued, her narrow face elongated with a sneer. “But we never said we’d avoid other pirate ships. Captain Redbeard and The King’s Revenge are fair game.”
The information stilled my actions, but the rage remained. Redbeard was the pirate captain from Zelfree’s dream-memories. The madman who had harmed Lynus—Redbeard had always managed to get away, though.
It wasn’t uncommon for pirates to attack their fellow cutthroats. These fiends didn’t like sharing loot, and some pirate captains claimed vast territories of ocean as their personal domain. That didn’t mean pirates sought each other out, though. There weren’t many places pirates could go for ship repairs and medication. We were only half a day away from New Norra, so perhaps Calisto wasn’t worried about those details, but if we had to turn around and wait for repairs…
“Get closer to The King’s Revenge,” Calisto shouted to his crew. “Draw them into the fog and prepare to broadside their vessel.”
I had heard tales of Captain Redbeard and The King’s Revenge even outside of Zelfree’s memories. Redbeard’s ship was famous for killing arcanists and using mortals as chum for man-eating mystical creatures that dwelled in the depths. Could Calisto handle the might of the other arcanist and his crew?
Spider glanced over to Calisto. “Redbeard got away the last two times we tried to corner him.”
“Don’t worry,” Calisto said, smiling. “Hellion has his true form now. This time will be different.”
Spider smiled. Then snapped her fingers at me and motioned to the stairs leading to the hold. “Clear off, cretin. Unless you’re gonna fight, we don’t need you gettin’ in the way.”
Hadn’t Calisto claimed that Redbeard was the man who had harmed Biyu? Even if it wasn’t true, the crew of The King’s Revenge were still pirate dastards. There was no reason for me to hold back. Plus, if I helped protect the Third Abyss, it would be less likely that we would need to return to New Norra for repairs.
“I’ll fight,” I stated.
For the first time since I had stepped foot on deck, Calisto gave me his full attention. “Redbeard is mine. You can do what you want with the rest of his crew—I don’t care what happens to them.”
“Are there other arcanists aboard?” I forced myself to ask, hating the fact that I was conversing with the man.
“His first mate, a wendigo arcanist, and his navigator, a ghoul arcanist.”
Thanks to my training with Fain, I knew quite a bit about the capabilities of a wendigo arcanist. Ghoul arcanists were also man-eaters, and their undead eldrin carried diseases. Neither frightened me.
Karna placed a hand on my shoulder. “You don’t have to do this. You can wait below deck.”
I shook my head. “It’s fine.”
Calisto smiled, showing off sharp teeth. “I hate knightmare arcanists, but I’ve never seen a plague-ridden one before. Let’s see what you bring to the table.”
More bells rang out. The Third Abyss rocked from side to side, no doubt affected by the wakes of a nearby ship. The King’s Revenge had to be close—perhaps a few hundred feet.
“In position!” a man in the crow’s nest yelled.
With more exuberance than I had ever heard fro
m him, Calisto shouted, “Fire! Taint the water with their blood.”
Hellion roared, his battle cry a mix of a lion’s and an abyssal beast’s. He spread his black wings wide and took to the sky, disappearing into the fog a moment later.
The Third Abyss shook as the sound of cannon fire filled the mist. The booming explosions and splintering of wood created a cacophony of destruction that hurt my ears. It lasted a full ten seconds as dozens of cannons unloaded all at once.
Had The King’s Revenge returned fire? Unlikely. The fog we hid in probably prevented the other pirates from knowing our exact location until it was too late. They would surely counterattack soon, but from the sounds of things, their vessel was already crippled.
A slam echoed into the sky a moment later, reminding me of a tree falling from a great height. One of the enemy’s masts had been torn down.
“Luthair,” I said.
Without the need for further instruction, Luthair merged with me. His cold shadows wrapped around my body, coalescing into hard plate armor. Power coursed through my veins, heightening my need to do something with it.
Spider ran to the railing and leapt off the boat, an impressive feat, considering the fall to the water was at least forty feet. As a kappa arcanist, I was certain she could handle it, but still.
Although Calisto had made a claim on Redbeard’s life, he didn’t attempt to leave his ship. On the contrary—he walked to the center of the deck and waited, his long coat, and the lion mane on the collar, fluttering in the wind that whipped across the ship.
I stepped through the shadows, exiting next to the railing. The faint outline of another ship swayed in the distance. Could I make it over if I used our ship’s rigging? Or would I have to plunge into the water myself and then use the shadows to climb the side of The King’s Revenge?
“Volke,” Fain muttered from invisibility. “They’re boarding.”
Plague Arcanist (Frith Chronicles Book 4) Page 36
