Scimitar Sun

by Chris A. Jackson

  Edan snapped out of his reverie and swatted Flicker away, then realized he had been staring, and that Camilla was looking right at him. He cast down his eyes, as if studying the stone pier under his shoes. He forced himself to walk forward, glancing up furtively. She was coming out onto the pier, probably to talk with the gregarious first mate of Orin’s Pride. Surely she didn’t fancy him. Edan continued forward, hazarding a smile and a nod of greeting.

  “Lady Camilla,” he said, managing not to mumble.

  “Hello, Edan.” She astonished him by stopping right in front of him, forcing him to stop as well. “I’d like to speak with you for a moment, if I may.”

  “Of course!” he blurted, jerking Flicker’s chain as the firesprite fluttered toward the woman. “What would you like to talk about?”

  “I think we need to talk about you, Edan,” she said, extending a hand to take his arm. “I think it’s time you were honest with me, and with yourself, about a few things.”

  “Uh…of course,” he stammered, thrilling to her touch but not liking her tone in the least.

  ≈

  Warm, fragrant water lapped at Feldrin’s chin, soothing away the tension of the past months. He hadn’t known how stressed he’d been, like a spring wound so tightly that it was ready to explode.

  “I could grow right fond of bathin’ if it was always like this,” he said, watching Cynthia’s hand stir the hairs of his chest like the tide stirring a bed of sea grass.

  “You better not be bathing like this when you’re out chasing pirates, Feldrin Brelak,” she said, her tone mild as her hand ventured deeper in the water, teasing him. She pressed against him, cradled in the crook of his massive arm, her chin on his broad shoulder and her breath in his ear. “I’ve heard about those sultry desert women and their wiles.”

  “Oh, ya have, have ya?” he said with a chuckle, then gasped as her teasing became more intimate. “Yer own wiles are right near wearin’ me out, lass.”

  “Oh, you’re not tired already,” she teased.

  “Well…I might not be, if you gave me a chance to catch my breath.” He caressed her back with his broad, calloused hand, softened by an hour in the steaming water. “Thought we might want to…uh…discuss things. We prob’ly won’t get half a moment to ourselves once we leave this room, ya know.”

  “Okay,” she agreed, though she didn’t ease her intimate caresses. “What would you like to discuss?”

  “Um…well, I know yer not happy with me usin’ the Pride like I have, and I wanted to tell you that I’m done with it, at least fer a while. Things were gettin’…uncomfortable down Marathia.”

  “Uncomfortable?” she asked, her curiosity piqued. “From what I heard, you did quite well. I can’t imagine the new sultan was upset with that.”

  “Oh, he wasn’t upset. Not at all. He wanted me to keep right on doin’ what I was doin’, but on a larger scale.” He fixed her with a serious look. “He wanted the Pride, Cyn. He wanted a whole fleet of ‘em. You ought to tell all yer schooner captains to be careful. He would’a tried to take her by force if he thought he could.”

  “They threatened you?” she asked, incredulous. “After what you’d done for them?”

  “Oh, he more’n threatened, lass. He offered to make me an admiral, and more!”

  “More?” She drew back a bit, fixing him with a meaningful stare. “How much more?”

  “More’n I wanted to be part of, Cyn. It was a trap, pure and simple, and the bait was enough to make it temptin’ for any man.”

  “But you weren’t?”

  “Not in the least,” he said, carefully avoiding the details. “Not with you to come home to.”

  “Oh, don’t try to flatter your way out of this, Feldrin,” she said, her eyes narrowing. “What exactly did he offer you?”

  “An admiralty, a title and his sister’s hand in marriage,” he said, keeping his tone even and his eyes right on hers, his face as serious as he could manage. “I’d have taken the title and the princess, but I’m not much fer navy protocol.”

  “Well, nice to know you draw the line somewhere,” she said, easing up next to him again. “I imagine he didn’t like you turning him down.”

  “Oh, aye. He didn’t like that at all. And that’s what ya better warn yer captains about.” He drew her close and sighed. “If the Pride weren’t armed, he’d’ve taken her, without a doubt.”

  “You really think he’d take a merchantman? A schooner under a Tsing flag?”

  “If he thought he could do it without riskin’ war or his city, I think he’d try. Might try to take one at sea, dispose of the crew and let rumors of a ship lost at sea make him look innocent. He does have those warships I got back for him.”

  “Gods, I hope not. It’s bad enough that the Tsing empire wants my designs. If Marathia’s willing to risk war to get them, that doesn’t leave me many options.”

  “You’ve had offers from Tsing?” he asked, raising one thick eyebrow.

  “Oh, I’d forgotten. You don’t know about our emissary from His Majesty.” She filled him in on the details of the visit and the suspected theft of the prototype plans.

  “Wait! You actually built that monstrosity of a two-hulled contraption?”

  “Well, it’s not quite done yet.” She laughed at him, then sobered. “But I’m less worried about the missing plans than the mer’s response to the visit. They did not like a warship anchoring outside the harbor. Now Captain Trengal tells me that there are rumors flying around Tsing about me creating an army of cannibals and mer, and a navy of armed schooners. I’ve sent so many letters that my hand is getting a cramp, but there’s been no formal response yet.”

  “You didn’t accuse them of stealing the plans, did ya?”

  “Lords no! I’m not a complete idiot, Feldrin!”

  “Sorry, lass, but I know how possessive ya are about yer ship designs. I risked my life and my whole crew to protect ‘em, remember?”

  “I know, I know, but give me some credit. My letters were very nice. I was a perfect lady.”

  “Cynthia Flaxal…The mighty Seamage of the Shattered Isles groveling before the Emperor of Tsing? I don’t believe it.”

  “I did not grovel. I said nice, not dimwitted.” She poked him in the ribs with a stiff finger, glaring playfully. “I told the emperor that further emissaries would be welcome, including one to the mer, who were insulted that they chose to deal with me and not them. I did ask them not to send another warship, but still no response.”

  “Oh, they’ll respond,” Feldrin said. “It’d be my guess that they don’t send just one warship, but several. And ya probably have me to thank fer that as much as anyone. There’s got to be stories in Tsing by now about Orin’s Pride, the scourge of the Sand Coast.”

  “Damn. I hadn’t thought of that.” She pulled away and pushed herself up out of the water.

  “And just where in the Nine Hells do ya think yer goin’, lass?” he said, refusing to release her hand.

  “I’ve got to draft another letter!” She tried to tug free, standing in the waist-deep water and glaring at him. “If I hurry, I can get one on a messenger boat before nightfall. Let go!”

  “I’ve got a better idea,” he said, pulling her gently back into his arms and sending a wave lapping over the side of the sunken tub. “You relax and fill me in on all the details, includin’ this pyromage boy you’ve taken under yer wing, and we’ll decide how to handle things.”

  “It’s my responsibility, Feldrin, not yours. There’s no reason you have to — How do you know about Edan?”

  “I stopped by Southaven on my way here and Rowland filled me in on a few things. This was the first I heard about the emissary from Tsing, though.”

  “Hmph! It figures. The emissary came while I was in Southaven picking up Edan. His trials are in less than two weeks, so that’s got to be a priority. We can’t miss the date.”

  “And he’s ready? Have you talked to him about it?”

  “I hope t
o the Nine Hells he’s ready, and I’m not saying that flippantly. This is his second try at ascension, and he’s about four years older than is usual. If he fails this one, he’s dead.” She sighed and lay back against him. “To complicate matters, he’s too infatuated with Cammy to do much more than stare at her.”

  “Great. Maybe I should speak with him. Ya know, man to man.”

  “Cammy was going to speak to him today. I hope she can do it without breaking his heart.”

  “Then I definitely should talk to him. After his talk with her, I imagine the poor kid’s got a head-full of the wrong ideas.”

  “Come on, Feldrin. Cammy wouldn’t give him the wrong impression.”

  “Young men don’t need impressions from women like Cammy, Cyn. She could say anything, and he’d only hear what he wanted to hear. Trust me on that.”

  “Well, maybe you should talk to him, then. Maybe we both should.”

  “That’d suit fine, lass. Mayhap after dinner.” He pulled her close and rubbed her back where she’d said it was aching, smiling at her little moan of pleasure. “Now what’s this about an emissary to the mer?”

  “Why are you so interested in my problems all of the sudden?” she asked, turning to allow him easier access to her aching muscles. “You’re not still upset being a seamage’s consort? Husband in all but name?”

  “I’m over that, Cyn. Consort, play toy or just yer personal masseur, I’m stickin’ around, lass.” He dug his thumbs into the small of her back as she leaned over the edge of the tub and moaned in contented ecstasy. “I’m stayin’ fer as long as ya can stand me.”

  ≈

  Tim strode down the pier, one arm outstretched, a huge bird of prey perched upon it. His shoulder was tiring before his feet touched the sandy walkway up to the keep. He hadn’t believed it when Horace had shown him the bird and told him that Feldrin wanted him to have it.

  “It was a gift from the Princess Mieshala of Marathia for the captain’s service to her country,” he’d explained. “He didn’t know what to do with the beastie, but he knew you’d take care of her.”

  When he’d been able to close his mouth, Tim listened to every word the mate had said about taking care of the bird. How it must never eat what it caught, and how to make sure it got its exercise every day. He still couldn’t believe it; such a beautiful, powerful creature, his.

  “What’s her name?” he’d asked, unsure as he took the majestic bird onto his gauntleted arm, gripping the jesses like a lifeline in a storm.

  “Well, that’s fer you to decide, Tim,” Horace had said, grinning down at him. “She’s yers now. Yers to care for and yers to use as you see fit. She’s yer responsibility.”

  Of course he’d eagerly accepted the gift and the responsibility, though already he was wondering if he’d bitten off more than he could swallow. Just walking up the pier, his shoulder throbbed with fatigue. The bird must weigh a good half-stone! As to a name, he hadn’t decided yet.

  He came up to Edan, who stood in the shade of the keep’s foyer, a stunned look on his pale features. He didn’t even comment on the huge bird perched on Tim’s arm. Flicker, however, took immediate notice of the creature, and let out a cry so piercing that Edan jerked as if he’d been poked with a pin.

  “Blast you, you little — ” Edan’s eyes focused upon the two-foot tall bird on Tim’s arm and widened until Tim thought they would fall out onto the sand. “Holy gods of light and darkness! What in the name of the Flaming One’s burning hair is that?”

  “She’s an osprey,” Tim said, grinning at his friend’s astonishment. He’d finally gotten one on the older boy. “Captain Feldrin gave her to me! Her name’s Samantha!” He said it without even realizing where the name came from. It just seemed right, looking at the regal bird: brown and white, sharp and keen, like a sword or something carved from marble.

  “Samantha?” Edan took a step back as the bird, hooded and tied to the thick leather glove on Tim’s arm, screeched piercingly. “By the gods, what a voice! What in the Nine Hells is it for?”

  “For? It’s not for anything. She was a gift from the princess of Marathia, and Captain Feldrin gave her to me.” He stroked the bird’s breast as he’d been shown. “Isn’t she wonderful?”

  Flicker let out a stream of sprite gibberish that clearly stated that she had her own opinion of the bird’s qualities.

  “Well, she’s certainly…uh…majestic.”

  Edan seemed distracted by something, as if he’d had a shock and was only just recovering. Tim had no idea what the problem could be; he’d only left him here half an hour ago.

  “Well, we’ll take her over the hill to the beach and see if she can catch a fish, how about that?”

  “Uh…actually…I’m sorry, but do you mind if I go to my room for a bit? I’m not feeling too good.” Edan did indeed look pale, even paler than normal.

  “Oh, no problem. I’ll take her and see what she can do. Maybe I’ll have her catch something and bring it back for dinner!”

  “Thanks, Tim,” Edan said with an utter lack of enthusiasm for the plan. “I’ll see you later.” He tugged on Flicker’s chain and entered the shadowed confines of the keep, his steps aimless and without energy.

  Tim briefly wondered what might have happened to his friend, but in short order he was overwhelmed with joy over his new pet, Samantha. He headed for the trail over the hill, wondering if she could catch a fish for him on the first try.

  ≈

  Camilla strode into her chambers, slammed the door and leaned back against the thick oak portal, gasping for breath. Her heart was pounding and her skin was clammy with sweat; not with the heat, nor with the dash up the stairs, but with the words that had come out of that boy’s mouth. She’d heard words like that before, and they chilled her to the very marrow of her bones.

  “Power,” she muttered to herself, clenching her fists and closing her eyes in anguish. She leaned her head back on the door, relishing its solidity, its firmness; a barrier between her and the world. Casting about in a sudden panic, she whirled and threw the latch. Only once the chair from the writing desk was jammed under the handle and firmly wedged did she back away and look around. Her room was startlingly bereft of any kind of weapon, and right now she longed for one. She needed the feel of a dagger in her hand, cold steel at her command, the heft of the hilt in her palm, solid, real…

  Like that day…the day she’d put six inches of steel into the heart of the man who had tormented her to the very brink of sanity. The day she’d killed Bloodwind.

  She dashed to her bedroom and jerked open the drawer of the nightstand. There it was, waiting patiently for her in its simple leather sheath. She encircled the plain wooden hilt with her hand and lifted the weapon from the drawer. This was the very one, the blade that had taken the pirate lord’s life. She pulled the glistening steel from the sheath and looked into it, as if she could see the dead pirate’s soul staring back out at her. But all she saw was her own reflection, the muscles of her jaw clenched so tightly that her head pounded with her heartbeat.

  Slowly, she sheathed the blade, keeping the hilt in her hand for comfort, and went back out into the main room. She started toward the door — she needed to talk with Cynthia about what had happened — but then she saw the chair braced against it, and panic once again rose in her like a raging tide. She backed up, staring at the door, her fists clenched around the hilt of her dagger, and she wondered if she would ever open that door again.

  ≈

  Edan sat in his room staring at the candle flame, letting its soothing, hypnotic radiance ease his mind.

  He couldn’t believe what he’d said, what he’d promised…

  Why did things have to be so complicated?

  Why could she not see how simple it all could be?

  Camilla had spoken of his duty, his obligation to himself. That he must concentrate on his upcoming trials, and that she felt that she was distracting him, risking his life…She had no idea.

&nb
sp; “It’s my life to risk, milady.” He’d stared into those clear blue eyes, pouring his soul into them, willing her to feel what he felt.

  “It would never work, Edan. We are too different. I am not the type of lady you should be seeking.” But he could hear it in her voice, her tone…There was willingness there, a longing for love — real love — pure, unwonted, without reservation…

  Then he had said it.

  “I will pass my trials, Camilla. I can feel it. And once I do, I’ll be more than just the awkward boy you’re talking to now.” Her eyes had widened at his pronouncement; was it passion, fear, or simply surprise that he would speak to her thus? “Once I have the power, I’ll have whatever I want, Camilla. And if you wish it, you can have it with me.”

  Her face had turned a ghostly white and she had turned away from him, dashing up the steps in a swirl of russet skirts.

  “Damn!” he swore, slamming his hand against the table top, making the flame dance. Flicker let out a startled cry and backed into a corner of her cage, her tiny face scrinched with concern. He felt immediately abashed. “I’m sorry, Flick. Come here. Let me get you something.”

  He opened her cage and poured a measure of distilled naphtha into a basin, then lit it with the candle. The firesprite immediately swooped into the flames, lavishing the burning liquid over her tawny form, a startlingly sensuous display to behold. But as Edan watched, in his mind’s eye Flicker transformed. Camilla lay before him, shrouded in crimson silk the hue of her hair, begging him to take her in his arms.

  He reached out to her. As his flame-touched skin blistered, he felt only the welling power that he knew would soon be his.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Ascensions

  “She can hand, reef and steer as well as any, mind you. It’s her mouth that needs a reef taken in.” Seoril sipped his rum and glanced toward Parek, oblivious to the man’s calculating stare. “She thinks she’s Odea’s gift to seamanship. Always sayin’ we’d make an extra half a knot if we did such and such, or we’d not heel so much if we did this and that. A bloody shrew in sailor’s garb, she is.”