A team of men milled behind us. They talked in hushed tones, occasionally casting menacing stares in our direction. If these were pirates or bandits, they were unlike any I had ever seen. No garish garb or medallions from their travels decorated the crew’s drab clothing. Each was clad in a sandstone pallet of loose fitting shirts and russet pants. Increasingly odd was the fact that not one among them had a sword fastened to their hips. In fact, upon sweeping glance, I saw no weaponry at all. This was no normal gang of rapscallions. A fact which somehow set my nerves further on edge.
“Eyes forward!” a gruff voice barked at the men.
Without hesitation they snapped to attention.
“I fear we could be here forever.” Sterling chewed on his lower lip, shifting his weight from one knee to the other. “But sometimes forever only lasts a second.”
A choked sob tore from Phin’s throat, fat tears streaming down his freckle smattered cheeks.
“We will get through this.” Jaw squared, I fixed my stare straight ahead, unwilling to entertain any other alternatives. “Of that I have no doubt.”
A sudden silence fell over the clearing, festering with the same deadly intent of a readied cannon.
“Where did you find them?” The question was posed by a female—her tone satin smooth, with the same threat to devour as a Great White’s jaws.
“In the valley,” came the humble response.
“They made a mermaid lagoon,” another tagged on.
Heat rushed through my core at the memory of Vanessa’s body skimming mine.
No, not Vanessa. One that could never be her.
Stalking a slow circle around us, the yet to be seen woman scuffed the heel of her boots as she walked. “A flock of birds of the most extraordinary colors flew over my head during my trek here. I assume they are to blame for that as well?”
“Yes, Sergeant,” her men obediently chorused.
Voice sharpening to a dagger’s edge, she spun on her heel toward her trembling troops. “I shouldn’t have to remind you of the risk associated with such changes.”
A murmur of unease rippled among them.
Letting them simmer in her disappointment, she resumed her stride and planted herself directly in front of us. Sandy brown hair, streaked with sun-kissed golden strands, waved to her chin. While petite, her muscular frame was pure gristle. Her uniform matched that of the others, minus the sleeves she had sliced off. Hands on her hips, the enigmatic sergeant pivoted on the ball of her foot, giving me a glimpse of the letters S.M.E.E. branded on her upper arm.
“You didn’t think the ropes and bondage would be a bit disconcerting?” she asked her men over our heads, chin tilting in question.
“It is a bit off-putting.” Sterling graced her with his most charming smile, which landed closer to disturbingly psychotic. “Not to mention notably uncomfortable.”
Nostrils flaring, her attention snapped in his direction. “Your comfort is of no concern of mine.”
Shrinking back, Sterling pulled his chin to his chest like a scolded child.
“We sought only to get them to you, Sergeant,” a timid voice quaked. “Sh–should we untie them?”
Head falling back, she peered skyward, as if needing a moment to digest that level of stupid. “Would you like him to see them like this? Don’t you think he would find such a spectacle bothersome?”
A collective gasp shuddered through the crowd.
“A thousand apologies.” Footsteps scurried behind us, trembling hands cutting us loose.
The minute I was free, I attempted to shoot to my feet only to be forced back down by a meaty paw.
Hands clasped behind her back, the sergeant stared down the bridge of her nose with mild amusement. “I suggested they not tie you like animals, not that they let you go. Don’t make me question my civility.”
Rubbing the angry red skin of my wrists, I countered her glower with a hateful sneer all my own. “Phin, you doing all right?”
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught his dutiful nod while his lips continued their incessant psalm of hope.
“Good. Because we’re going to walk out of here when this is over. I promise you that.” Lifting my chin, I dared the sergeant to argue and crush the spirit of a child.
Lips coiling into a cynical smile, she paced before us, narrowed stare never wavering. “I am Sergeant Malyn E’toil Esquire, protector of the peace of Marooner’s Rock and officer of the nobleman that stakes claim to this land. Nothing happens here without my knowledge, and you boys were creating quite a ruckus. That, I cannot allow.”
“She’s terrifying,” Sterling uttered in an urgent whisper, his scarred jaw swinging slack. “It’s breathtakingly erotic.”
“Do shut up,” I hissed in response.
Gnawing on the inside of her cheek, Sergeant E’toil deliberated over our presence. “It takes a brave man or an imbecile to travel to unknown realms. How would the three of you classify yourselves? Brave, or stupid?”
Sterling’s head tipped in contemplation. “I would say both,” he merrily chirped. “I feel it adds to my charm.”
“If you think you’re helping, you’re not,” I spat out of the corner of my mouth.
Assuming a wide-legged stance, the sergeant’s stare flicked over me as if weighing my merit and finding me lacking. “Look at your puffed chest and fiery stare. You reek of a man with a mission. What great purpose was it that brought you here?”
Lifting my chin, I challenged her with silence.
“Don’t feel like talking?” Smile widening with wicked delight, Malyn snapped her fingers at her men. “Bring the boy.”
“Keep your hands off him!” Lunging forward, I was held back by two of her burly cronies. Another grabbed Phin by the elbow with brutish force. Dragging him to his feet, the bearded underling delivered him to his sergeant’s side.
Brushing the hair from Phin’s eyes, Malyn offered him the welcoming smile of a hungry crocodile. “What’s your name, lad?”
“Phin, ma’am.” His voice betrayed him by wavering.
“Phin, do you know what this is?” Malyn tapped the scar on her arm.
“It’s a–a brand, m–ma’am,” he stammered.
“Smart boy. Such a mark is made by scorching metal that burns into the skin.” Her words came in an ominous hiss of malicious intent.
“We’re searching for a mirror!” Sterling erupted, his eyes glassy with tears on the frightened boy’s behalf. His scars proved his experience with torture to be a violently intimate one he couldn’t stand back and watch an innocent child endure.
“Sterling!” I barked, before he could offer further details.
Forehead puckering, the smile vanished from Malyn’s face. “A mirror? How could such a trivial item prompt a quest of this magnitude?”
“Tell her nothing!” I interjected, my blood audibly pulsing in my ears.
“Oh, I wouldn’t advise that,” Sergeant E’toil purred. Clamping a hand on Phin’s shoulder, she pivoted him to face us.
“You have never seen true torture!” Sterling erupted. Face reddening, the tendons in his neck bulged. “For if you had, you would never request such a thing from me!”
A momentary hush fell, only to be broken by the sergeant’s nudging prompt. “This mirror …”
Casting my stare to the ground, I clamped my mouth shut.
Sterling’s face sagged with defeat. “It is said to have magical properties that, when wielded properly, can answer all questions and decipher the path of destiny.”
Whispers rumbled through the horde which Sergeant E’toil silenced with one raised finger. “And what plans have you for this clairvoyant receptacle if you find it?”
Lifting his face to hers, Sterling met her calculating questions with utmost honesty. “There’s a dying queen that we hope to save. Then, we would very much like to go home, ma’am.”
Malyn’s tongue tapped against her front teeth. “Bring them, boys!” she hollered after a contemplative beat, hand swingi
ng in a circular gesture for them to round us up. “We venture back to camp!”
Sucking in a collective gasp, the crew hesitated to move.
“Sergeant,” the monstrous man who knocked me out muttered in a gentle timbre that comically contradicted his off-putting size, “are you sure he can handle … outsiders?”
“If such a mirror is on the island, it belongs to him.” Tone leaving no room for discussion, she released Phin and allowed the boy to dart to my side. He latched on like a drowning man on a buoy. “He alone decides what becomes of his artifacts. Factor in that he has undoubtedly detected their presence, and we will all fair far worse if we attempted to hide such things from him.”
When they dared dawdle further still, Sergeant E’toil’s lip curled from her teeth. “Fall in line, or I’ll see to it he skins every one of you alive!”
Fumbling over each other, they rushed to gather their gear, and us. Seized by my upper arm, I was yanked to my feet. There, Malyn met me with a good-natured pat to the cheek. “Brace yourself, lad. It’s time to meet the captain.”
“Sh–should we take their w–weapons?” the big guy stammered.
Sergeant E’toil eyed the dagger at my hip with mild interest. “Let them keep them. If the captain doesn’t take well to their company, they should at least have a fighting chance at survival.”
Chapter Fifteen
“Don’t speak unless spoken to.” Hands behind her back, Malyn glanced over her shoulder at Sterling. “Actually, not you. Try not to speak at all. The less he notices you, the better.”
Tent flaps rippled on either side of us, their occupants peeking out to steal a glimpse. Before us, a ship with mahogany stain and yellow trim had run aground and sat slightly askew. Where it could have come from, I couldn’t say. I had yet to see a body of water big enough for such a vessel. As far as I could tell she must’ve fallen from the sky.
Inching closer, Phin’s little hand curled around the bottom hem of my shirt. Feeling every one of the questions scrawled on his face, I offered him a smile of comfort I knew didn’t reach my eyes.
“These men greatly fear their captain,” Sterling muttered in an urgent whisper, practically gnawing a hole in his lower lip. “Do we have a plan for if such a man decides to kill us?”
“I have these images skirting through my mind I can’t let myself entertain,” I began, the words leaving my lips in a barely audible hush, “of hulking beasts comprised of shadow. These savage aborigines stand ready and able for battle if their presence is needed. Constructed as a safeguard, they can be brought to life with a thought.”
Sterling blinked my way in confusion. “Translation?”
Tipping my chin in his direction, I caught his stare and held it firm. “If the situation calls for it, I’m going to think particularly unhappy thoughts.”
Treating himself to a calming breath, relief washed over his features.
Coming to a halt, Sergeant E’toil turned our way, her men assuming a half circle formation behind us. Each stood ramrod straight. Time served under their captain showing itself in the uneasy way they shifted their feet, and wiped their sweaty palms on the front of their pants.
The boards of the gangplank creaked, and each crew member sucked in a sharp intake of breath. Even the largest among them cast their stares to the ground. I thought to copy their posture. But, be it moxie or blatant stupidity, I chose instead to watch the descent of a man that instilled such fear into the hearts of many.
Thump, hiss.
Thump, hiss.
His peg leg proved the stronger of the two, forcing the other uncooperative limb onward. Still, it wasn’t enough. The mammoth of a man who hit me earlier offered his captain the stability of his crooked arm, guiding the shriveled old man down toward his waiting crew. Upon closer inspection, the big guy had the innocent face of a child. An odd contrast to his ogre-like stature. Yet, it was him they feared.
Posture curled in, the captain’s free arm was tucked tight to his chest. A scraggly grey beard swung to his midsection, the length fastened in two distinct knots. Time had sunk his face into harsh lines and a sallow complexion, shriveling his form to bone.
Dragging his tongue over his top teeth, Sterling’s lips parted with a pop. “I was expecting someone … meatier,” he mused, only to be shushed by the men within earshot.
Feet scuffing in the dirt, the captain paused at the base of the gangplank to let his sleepy gaze sweep over the crowd. At the sight of our trio, he winced. Bloodshot eyes bulged with interest.
Tipping toward his mountainous aide, he rasped in death’s weak rattle, “Potchis, did you ring the chimes?”
“Thrice, Captain. Same as always.” The man I now knew as Potchis tied his stare to the ground and refused to let it stray.
The captain’s jaw worked, chewing on his face as he deliberated. “Thrice more, if you please. It soothes me.”
Unweaving himself from the Captain’s hold, Potchis presented a cane for him to lean upon, patiently waiting until he was steady before stepping away. Edging back, the towering man-child stirred a wind chime comprised of glass jars and silverware. Music as soft as fairy bells tinkled through the camp. The rest of the crew stiffened at the sound, a few emitting muted whimpers.
When the chimes stilled, Potchis returned to his captain’s side and guided him the remaining distance to us. Scuffing through the dirt, the pair moved at a pace a snail would find tiresome. They arrived in a waft of sour breath and body odor.
The captain’s cloudy grey stare shifted from Sterling, to me, to Phin, and back again. The index finger of his crippled hand twitched incessantly.
Jaw working, he snorted Sterling’s way. “Your mouth is odd.”
“Your face is old,” Sterling shot back, his tone not one of malice but fact.
As a chorus of gasps rocked his crew, the captain merely nodded in agreement. “So true.” Point of his hooked nose jerking in my direction, he tossed his question to Malyn. “This be he? The soul who brought all the changes to our land?”
“One and the same.” Flanking her decrepit leader, the chilling dagger of her emotionless stare sliced into me. “Mermaids, birds, butterflies, and flowers the likes of which I have never seen. Our world has changed, my captain. Yet nothing is irreversible. One shudder that it bothers you, and it will all be erased from Marooner’s Rock by any means necessary.”
“Easy, child.” The captain’s attempt at a chuckle morphed into a hacking cough. Eyes watering, he wheezed down a few labored breaths before regaining the ability to speak. “Ensure a crime has been committed before you string a man up.”
“Yes, Captain,” she muttered, heels clicking together with her formal salute.
Tipping his frail head my way, he offered me a compassionate half-smile. “Apologies, friend. Sergeant E’toil tends to be of a harsh, military mind. My name is Captain James Harwood, and who might you be?”
Chest puffed in the regal stature insisted upon by my commanding officers, I squared my shoulders and spoke with due respect to Captain Harwood. “My name is Alastor, member of Atlantica’s Royal Guard under reigning King Triton—although I assume he suspects me dead by now.”
“Atlantica?” he croaked, spittle bubbling on his pale and cracked lips. “The underwater kingdom?”
“One and the same.” My head dipped in a nod of confirmation.
“In that case, you’ve ventured to the wrong realm. Not an ocean to be found! A dire situation for mer and pirates alike.” Harwood’s cackle disintegrated into yet another coughing fit.
Potchis shook a handkerchief from his pocket and offered it to his captain who used it to dab at his foam-covered lips.
“I can only hope to fare half as well as you have here,” came my polite rebuttal.
Seemingly finished with me, Captain Harwood shuffled on, his lips grinding over his gums. Waddling a few shuffled steps farther, he paused in front of a pallid Phin. The frightened boy swallowed hard, his grip tightening on the wood flute clutched in his
hands.
Hunching his back, Harwood stooped as far as he could to come eye level with Phin. “What say you, lad? What do you think of Marooner’s Rock?”
Phin glanced my way, chin quivering in need for reassurance.
A blink and a smile were the only encouragement I could offer.
“I–I liked the mermaid lagoon.” The lad’s voice cracked. “Th–the creatures there were quite enchanting.”
Snorting in contempt, Malyn rolled her shoulders and clasped her hands behind her back. “Frivolous enchantment does not assure the safety and serenity of our people. We aren’t allowed the poetry of such musings.”
“Oh, do lighten up, E’toil.” Captain Harwood rolled his eyes with mock exasperation, a simple gesture that earned a titter of laughter from the anxious boy.
Malyn’s expression softened a degree, giving her the appearance of a teenager annoyed by her zany grandfather’s antics. “I thought it was my intricate attention to detail and insistence on good form which secured my title among this horde of miscreants?”
“And, so it is.” Folding the handkerchief over his arthritic fingers, the captain handed it back to Potchis. “Still I feel you’ve overreacted this time. You feared I would be so bothered by these newcomers, yet here I am. My same ole crotchety self.” Casting a glance to Phin, he gave the boy a wink.
“I am thrilled to admit this was my mistake, Captain.” Sergeant E’toil twirled her index finger in a circular formation, signaling for the crew to return to their normal activities.
As they scurried off, Harwood reached down with one quaking hand and pretended to steal Phin’s nose.
I’d like to think what happened next was circumstance. That my thoughts didn’t get the better of me, conjuring forth a silvery butterfly simply to see what would happen.
Be that as it may, I saw it in my mind mere seconds before the shimmering specimen fluttered into the camp.
Grown men clasped hands at the sight of it, chins dropping to their chests as they muttered prayers for mercy.
Leaning heavily on his cane, Harwood stilled to watch it flap by.
Sterling’s head spun in one direction, then the other, lips sinking into a frown. “Without knowing the cast of characters, I’m having trouble staying interested in this farce.”
The Unfortunate Souls Collection Page 31
