She pounded in his blood.
An instant violent need, burning in the heart like madness.
He wasn’t sure why and he didn’t care. At all.
The Grizzwood was ruled by The Right of the Meanest. Whoever was toughest, was in charge and could take what they wanted. If you won the fight, you won the right. It was their only real law and their principle form of social cohesion.
And at the moment, Uriah intended to follow that law to the letter.
But that didn’t mean he had to be happy about it.
“Crap.” He said under his breath, feeling sorry for himself and cursing the woman for being so appealing. Why couldn’t she have been a bartender or something? Why did she have to be an enemy soldier? It made this so much more complicated for him.
Rowland glanced up at him, still rummaging through his desk looking for the letter which put him on the trail of the Adithian ship to begin with. “Something wrong?”
“I want the girl.” Uriah blurted out, trying to keep the desperation from his voice. He tapped a finger against his chest. “She’s mine.”
Had Rowland had any experience with the Grizzwood folk, he would have immediately recognized the horrifying implications of that simple statement and apologetically handed her over. Immediately.
Sadly, he did not, and Rowland chuckled like the colossal asshole that he was. “You’ll get your turn.” He assured him, which made Uriah’s skin crawl.
He shook his head. “No, no, you misunderstand me.” He turned around and met the other man’s eyes. “I don’t mean I want to rape her, I mean I want her.”
“You want the girl as your 5%?” Rowland shook his head. “Sorry, she’s worth more than 5% of this haul.”
“Then I’ll buy her.” Uriah squared his shoulders. “Name your price.”
“I’m not going to sell her!” Rowland sounded genuinely insulted. “She killed half my crew!”
“So, get a new crew.” Uriah snapped. “They were bested by a woman anyway, how good could they possibly have been?” He tried to play into the man’s natural sexism, hoping Rowland was stupid enough to fall for it. “I’ll pay you double her worth and you can use that money to hire men of ten times their skill. It’s win-win for you. Keeping the girl gets you nothing. She’s just some Adithian archer who’s more trouble than she’s worth. If it’s simply revenge you’re after, I can assure you, I have plans for the girl.”
True, his plans involved “getting to know you” brunches and gifts of colorful flowers, but those could possibly be torture for the girl, right? It wasn’t like being around Uriah was a pleasure for anyone. He was a selfish, drunken asshole. And those were his best qualities. Being forced to endure him during their hypothetical picnic brunches would probably drive the girl over the edge anyway.
Rowland shook his head. “I couldn’t even if I wanted to, Uriah.” He sighed. “I need her. There’s all sorts of red tape with this job, you know that.” He shrugged, as if helpless. “She’s not mine to give.”
“Triple.” Uriah retorted immediately, undaunted. “She’s just a little thing anyway. You and your men could find some other sturdier girl to keep you company.”
“You know, ordinarily, I’d jump at an offer like that, Uriah.” Rowland soothed. “I respect the fact that you…”
“…and my ship.” Uriah all but whispered, then repeated more forcefully, cutting him off. “I’ll pay you triple, and give you the Whore.”
Uriah loved that ship. But he’d toss it aside if it got him the girl and kept him from doing what he knew he’d have to do in a moment.
“I can’t, Uriah.” Rowland spread his arms helplessly. “My hands are tied here. I need her.”
Uriah moved towards the door again.
Outside, the woman’s screaming and thrashing were growing weaker.
Uriah stood in the doorway, at the turning point of his past and future.
And it was never any choice at all.
Not even for a moment.
“I understand.” Uriah nodded, his voice even. “That’s what I thought you’d say, Rowland. But you know I had to try.”
“That’s my boy.” Rowland clapped him on the back. “Now, let’s say you and I…”
The rest of his words were cut off as Uriah turned in one fluid motion and plunged his sword straight into the man’s stomach. Rowland gave a gasping cry, which Uriah stifled by covering the man’s mouth with a hand. “You really should have just given her to me, Rowland. I told you she was mine.” He whispered as he stabbed the man again and dropped the body to the floor. “You’ve made this so much more difficult, you stupid bastard.”
Uriah looked up at the ceiling of the dead captain’s cabin, praying to the uncaring gods of his people.
At this point, as long as the girl lived, it would be worth it.
That was his “best case scenario” here, since this was a really, really bad situation to be in.
Long-term planning had never been Uriah’s strong suit, sadly. His people weren’t known for their patience or for their tactical minds. Mainly, they just bludgeoned their foes until one of them stopped moving. Any sort of “plan” was the antithesis of the spirit of the Grizzwood.
If he had been born with the ability to strategize, he could have undoubtedly gotten out of this situation with the woman intact. Sadly, Uriah had been taught from an early age to think with his fists.
In this case though, it had gotten him into serious trouble.
He wasn’t going to live through this.
No chance.
But the good thing about never thinking things through was that he didn’t have to think about that either. All that mattered was that he was one step closer to getting the woman and what he wanted. And it was time to move.
“Root, hog, or die.” As his mother had often said.
He hurriedly stuffed the dead man into one of the wardrobes and made his way back to the door to the cabin. He took a deep breath and strolled out into the sunlight, laughing. “...and then she stepped on the ball!” He laughed uproariously at the punchline to a joke he didn’t know the setup for, hoping that it sounded sufficiently drunken and relaxed. “Oh, that one is my favorite!” He chuckled again. “Okay, okay, be right back.” He told the dead man conversationally in case anyone was listening, then made his way across the gangplank to the captured Adithian ship.
It was an utter warzone. A pile of dead Adithian soldiers littered the deck, and stacks of dead pirates filled the spaces between. Most of the corpses were killed with expertly placed arrows, piercing armor, flesh, and bone.
Uriah tried to suppress his smile of pure respect.
The woman was a master at her trade, whoever she was. Personally, Uriah had never had any skill with the bow, but that just made him appreciate the girl’s artistry all the more.
One of the pirates gave the woman in question a swift kick and Uriah struggled not to rip his throat out. “Enough, enough.” He called to the man, hoping that his absolute rage boiling below the surface didn’t show. “Rowland wants to see his new prize.” He was silent for a beat. “See all of her.” He gave a forced chuckle and tried not to be sick. “So I think that’s about as much as he’d like her bruised.”
The men didn’t look too happy about being called off the woman, since she’d spent the better part of the morning making them look like complete assholes and cutting down their friends like cordwood.
“Come on, now,” Uriah shooed the men away with his hand in mock good-natured comradery, “stand aside, stand aside. We’ll all have a chance to make our guest feel… welcomed.”
The men laughed.
Uriah’s fist was clenched so tightly that his fingernails dug into his palm hard enough to draw blood. It was sheer force of will which kept him from killing them where they stood.
Instead, he cleared his throat. “Doesn’t look so tough now, does she?” He proclaimed loudly, kneeling down to her and leaning forward to whisper to her. “Miss, I know you…”
His words were cut off by the woman’s fist slamming into his face, hard enough to knock him back onto his heels. “O-o-ow!” He stammered in surprise and pain.
She’d just damn near broken his nose.
Wow.
That was so hot.
She tried to start crawling away, but lacked the strength and ended up merely clawing at the wooden deck with her fingernails in an attempt to pull herself along.
Uriah wiped the blood from his face and resumed his whispered introduction. “Now then, as I was saying before you interrupted: I know you have no reason to trust me, but I’m begging you to walk quickly and quietly back to my ship with me.” He said softly. “Because in a minute, they’re going to kill the both of us.”
She stopped trying to move away and instead tilted her head up at him. Her face was swollen and looked dazed. “W-w-w-why?” She croaked, surprise in her weak tone, apparently not expecting him to have such a sudden change of heart.
Evidently, she had never met anyone from the Grizzwood before or she would have recognized their suicidal levels of possessiveness and protectiveness for what was theirs. If she had, she probably would have taken her chances with her captors.
No one wanted to belong to someone from his homeland.
But at least she apparently believed him, which was good. Uriah had never met anyone who trusted him before, so this was a foreign and altogether pleasurable novelty. Sadly, it wouldn’t last.
“I’m a dark and sinister man. But a woman once baked me a pie. And I never learn my lesson.” He pulled her to her feet. “Go.”
He all but carried her away, moving as quickly as he could without raising attention. They walked back onto Rowland’s ship and towards the dead captain’s cabin, then tried to subtly make their way past it.
One of the crewman frowned as Uriah strolled by with the girl. “Where you goin’ with the prisoner?”
Uriah shrugged. “Rowland and I flipped for first crack at her.” He informed him nonchalantly. “Sadly for him, luck was not on his side today.”
That sounded… almost convincing. Especially since his audience was stupid. Lying to stupid people was always preferable to lying to intelligent people. It just made the whole process easier. Like winning a swordfight against an opponent who wielded only a fish.
The guard nodded and allowed Uriah to hustle the woman onto the gangplank leading back to the Whore.
“Stop!” The man called a second later.
Uriah’s hand nonchalantly slipped down to the sword at his waist, but he kept his voice even and carefree. “Yes?”
The man stared at him in silence for a moment. “You know you have a fucking arrow stickin’ outta your back, mate?”
“Yes, I’m aware of that, thank you.” He told him, starting to walk again. “I thought it would be more fun to have this girl pull it out.” Why the fuck would that be fun? Think! “With… with her teeth.” Dammit. He was usually a better liar than this. “Or you know. Whatever.”
The man frowned in confusion, arching a suspicious eyebrow.
Fuck!
Uriah tried to cover by laughing in apparent merriment. “Fella, I am drunk as shit right now, so I got no clue what I’m saying. And all I want to do is fall into a cool drink and a warm girl, okay? So, no offense, I’m sure you’re a super interesting conversationalist, but I really don’t feel like talking to you right now. I aim to get drunker and do…umm…” he waved a hand as he thought up another lie on the spur of the moment, “sick pirate shit to this poor captive woman.” He nodded lasciviously. “You know what I’m talking about.”
The man was silent for another moment, then started laughing. “Yeah, I know what you’re talking about, mate.”
Uriah smiled at him weakly, then hustled the girl onto the deck of the Whore.
“W-w-what were you talking about?” She whispered to him, her voice slurred and soft.
“I have no idea.” He told her flatly. “For the record, I’m typically a much better liar than that.”
“Sh…sh…should hope so.” She finally got out, holding her cracked ribs and wincing as Uriah gently helped her to sit down on a sack of supplies.
“Forgive me, I’m afraid my customarily astucious skill at deception is failing me at this critical moment.” He straightened. “I’m having a bad morning.”
“Really?” She put her head back, blood marring her bruised face. “Mine’s been just awesome, pirate.”
He smiled at her unexpectedly dry tone, finding her sense of humor surprising and delightful.
He glanced around the deck, looking for his quartermaster. The man in question was leaning against the railing, as if he didn’t have a care in the world. He straightened when he saw Uriah walking towards him. “Cap’n.”
“Get us out of here, Mister Marston.” Uriah ordered in a low voice, trying not to raise any sort of suspicion from their allies.
Marston frowned. “But we’re still hooked up with the Squid.” He gestured to Rowland’s ship, which was currently attached to the Whore by a series of ropes.
“Then cut them, Marston.” Uriah snapped, lowering his voice. “But do it as quietly as you can.”
“Why?”
“We are in a battle, Marston.” He reminded the man. “Which means I order, you obey. Now, I know that it’s become the dernier cri recently for subordinates to demand explanations from their commanders in times of crisis, and believe me, I’d positively adore helping you to better understand your job, but I really think if you knew the particulars of this situation, you’d agree with me that haste is necessary.”
Marston shook his head. “I don’t think we can just…”
Uriah put his fingers to his lips and gave a whistle, then signaled the first mate to get the ship underway. The man looked a bit taken aback by the order, but immediately roused the men into action.
Uriah ignored Marston’s continued babbling and simply stalked over to the ropes himself, strolling down the railing and cutting each of them in turn with a small hatchet which was kept on hand for just such a purpose.
Uriah wasn’t a long-term planner, but he was always ready to double-cross an ally if the situation warranted it.
And in this case, the situation most definitely warranted it.
The Whore began to separate from Rowland’s armada.
Just a few more seconds and they’d be away. On the open water, there was no way anything that size could catch Uriah’s vessel. The Whore was fast and agile and she would be out of cannon range before Rowland’s men even got them loaded. And she’d be halfway to Tougia before Rowland’s ships got underway to pursue.
All he needed was thirty more seconds. At most. And he’d be free and clear.
But predictably… he didn’t get it.
One of Rowland’s men emerged from his captain’s cabin, screaming bloody murder.
Uriah swore viciously, his mind immediately playing out the possible outcomes and recognizing how they all ended.
The man Rowland had stationed on the gangplank started to run across it before the Whore pulled entirely away, intent on stopping Uriah’s escape. He got one foot onto the Whore before catching Uriah’s hatchet to his chest and toppling overboard.
“Marston, ready the cannon and prepare to repel boarders!” Uriah shouted, kicking the gangplank into the water. “ALL HANDS! We’re going to have company!”
“What did you do!?!” Marston demanded, his voice livid. “You stupid crazy sonofabitch!”
“I’ll explain later!” Uriah waved off the concern. “Just get us…” He turned around to find that Marston had lowered the sails again and had a sword in his hand. “…Oh, bad form.” He told the man softly, taken aback.
“I ain’t dying for you and some angry foreign bitch, Cap’n.” Marston shook his head. “None of us are.”
“We’ve been through plenty and I haven’t gotten us killed yet, have I?” Uriah tried, attempting to sound reasonable.
“We survive despite you, not
because of you.” Marston’s voice was hard. “We been talking with Rowland about joining up with him for months now.”
“Sadly, I think that will prove surprisingly difficult at this particular juncture, unless one of my loyal crew happens to be some kind of medium or wizard in disguise.” Uriah looked around at their faces, as if genuinely searching for supernatural volunteers. “Anyone?” He called, his tone serious. “Is anyone here a Warlock? Necromancer? Shamanistic priest?” He paused, sounding hopeful. “Anyone?”
The Adithian girl snorted in amusement, then doubled over in pain, collapsing to the deck.
“Not even a single clairvoyant? Wow. I’m sorely disappointed in you, men.” Uriah turned back to Marston and shrugged. “It appears as if your celebrated partnership with Rowland is limited to the earthly realm, Marston.” Uriah pointed at the weapon clutched in the man’s hand. “But don’t worry, threatening me is going to have you reunited with your departed friend very quickly.”
“The way I see it,” Marston continued, “I should be Cap’n.”
“I’ve often complemented you on your imagination, Marston.” Uriah stepped to the side, trying to subtly put himself in front of the girl. She was in no condition to defend herself anymore. She could barely move. “The way you can dream such fantastic and impossible things.” He placed his hand over his heart, as if moved. “You may not be a wizard, but the fanciful stories you weave are a kind of magic all their own.”
The girl snickered again, then swore in pain and pulled herself in a fetal position, her tone fatalistic but entertained.
Rowland’s ships pulled up alongside the Whore and his men began to fill the deck.
“With Rowland gone,” Marston looked around as if searching for someone, “I guess I’m the only captain of his armada left standing, aren’t I?” His eyes narrowed. “Which means I’m in charge.”
“Well, the captains and officers of Rowland’s other ships might have something to say about that.” Uriah challenged.
“The bitch already killed all of ‘em.” Marston reminded him flatly.
“Bullocks.” Uriah made a face, once again wishing that the woman had been a waitress or something. If she had left more of their enemies alive, they wouldn’t be in this mess.
Travels With a Fairytale Monster Page 38
