by J M D Reid
“Fine.”
He fished out two ruby coins and the sapphire penny, slamming them on the table. She scooped them up in a flash, the coins disappearing into a pocket on her skirt. She sidled up to him and took his arm. They wove through the common room. The crowd didn’t feel so oppressive with her at his side, the darkness not so crushing.
You shouldn’t need her to be strong, he snarled at himself.
The moment they were in her small room—a neatly made bed, a chest-of-drawers, a rickety table, a chipped vase and a few wildflowers, and their mother’s mirror—his sister put her hands on her hips and glared at him.
“What are you doing here, Nrein? Are you insane?”
“Good to see you, Hestril,” Nrein growled.
“Don’t call me that.” She pointed at the door. “You need to leave. I’m expecting someone.”
Anger grew inside Nrein. “Is that why you stopped helping me?”
“I don’t like what you’ve been doing.”
“Since when?”
“Always.” She shrugged. “I just finally found the backbone to say no to you.”
“Really? After all I did for us?” He seized her shoulders, fingers squeezing tight. She didn’t flinch away. “After I protected you? After I pulled you out of that cesspit our mother languished in? I saved you from the room.”
“You were just saving yourself.” She pushed at his chest. “Let me go!”
He shook his head. “I’m saving you from this cesspit.”
Her eyes rolled. “You never did see reality, Nrein. This place ain’t so bad.”
“Having those dung-smeared bastards rub their filthy hands across your body ain’t bad?” The words growled low and dangerous.
“I’ve seen you grope whores, Nrein. Don’t pretend you’re any better than those louts downstairs.” Her smile grew dangerous. “Because you’re not. At least they aren’t out there making widows and orphans.”
“Vionese widows and orphans.” He drew in a deep breath. “I’m not here to fight with you. It’s time. All those things I promised you, you’re going to have them. A house. Wealth. You won’t have to let men rut atop your illusions.” He cupped her face. “I’ll take care of you good, Hestril.”
“Don’t call me that!” she hissed. “I am not going anywhere. I am happy here. You won’t drag me further into your barbarity.”
Nrein seized her arm. “Hate my barbarity, but you’re coming with me.”
“Let go of me, Nrein!” She slapped him.
Only his sister could get away with that. He gritted his teeth as she struck him again. “It’s not going to be safe here. I need to get you away.”
“I’m perfectly safe, Kutsig!”
He flinched at his real name. “I told you never to call me that!”
“And I told you to stop calling me Hestril!” She slapped him again. “Now let go of me, Nrein!” Her lips curled in a sneer. “Such a strong and deadly shark you are, Nrein. Mother would be sooo—”
“I’m attacking the town and burning it to the ground. My ships will destroy the Autonomy’s vessels, and my pirates will pillage Onhur. They don’t all know you.” His face softened. “Please, Esty. We need to go.”
The color drained from her face. “No. You can’t do that.”
His heart sank. He could see it in her eyes. “You fell in love with one of them?” His hand tightened on her arm. “A Vionese pig?”
“That is none of your business. If you keep trying to drag me out of here, I’ll scream. The bar is full of those Vionese you hate. Sailors and marines. They’re all eager to kill pirates.”
Anger raged in him. She’d let a filthy, dung-smeared Vionese touch her. She was as filthy as their mother. “You’re coming with me if I have to tie you up and drag you out of here!”
*
Estan patted the book in his coat pocket as he strode towards the Last Port Tavern. He almost floated, buoyed by his excitement.
The boisterous tavern loomed ahead, light spilling out into the dark streets. He was eager to spend every heartbeat with Esty before reporting for muster in the morning. He dreaded the Dauntless sailing early the next day. Estan hoped this voyage would see the end of the Bluefin Raiders. A peaceful tour was far preferred to the excitement of the last month. If the casualties on the Dauntless continued at their present pace—already a third of the crew had died since training had started four months ago—Estan feared for his odds of surviving.
He stepped into the crowded tavern, his eyes scanning past the revelers, looking for her familiar face. Guts and Zori sat a table, laughing as they drank. Guts caught his eyes then nodded his head towards the stairs. His expression grew tight. Estan wondered what that meant. But he didn’t see Esty serving drinks.
She must be waiting for me. Perhaps she asked Guts to let me know.
The possibility that Esty might be with a customer crossed Estan’s mind as he wove through the packed tavern, but he discarded it. She knew he was coming tonight. His heart beat faster, eager to see his paramour.
Paramour. What a delightful word.
Estan considered broaching a delicate topic tonight. He wanted to help support her while he was sailing. She didn’t need to keep pretending to entertain men. He could arrange it with the quartermaster for her to receive a stipend while he was deployed; it would be a prelude to his true goal.
He knew he would marry her, his heart hers, but Chaylene’s words gave him caution to broach the subject too early with Esty. Estan could see no other outcome. Their marriage would be a partnership of intellects, uniting them in a quest of discovery.
Father will hate it, but he has practically disowned me. Mother will consider it a great scandal that I married a common Agerzak. That actually made the possibility of marriage more attractive. His mother had done nothing to soften his father’s displeasure.
So if it was too soon for marriage, he could still support Esty as his paramour, the mistress of his heart.
Estan smiled as he raced up the stairs to the second floor. Esty’s door opened and an Agerzak stepped out, a tall man with a wicked scar across his nose and right cheek, disappearing beneath his thick, black beard. His amber eyes hardened on Estan.
“Let go of me!” Esty shrieked.
The Agerzak had her gripped by the arm, the limb twisted behind her back. He forced her to stumble after him. Her beaded braids clacked as she struggled, her face red and puffy with exertion. Fury swept over Estan.
“Hey!” Estan shouted, his charge gathering in his left hand as he marched forward.
“No! Estan!” Esty shouted as the Agerzak thrust her back behind him.
“Vaarckthian bastard!” snarled the man in a thick Agerzak accent, his words rough and hard.
“You can’t just grab a woman and—”
The Agerzak’s hand struck Estan in the throat.
“Nrein!” shrieked Esty as pain flared across Estan’s esophagus. He felt something break, something delicate, necessary.
He stumbled back, coughing and wheezing. He tried to breathe but . . . only a little air sucked past his crushed trachea. Darkness washed over his vision. His heart screamed for deeper breaths. The second punch slammed into his gut. The remaining air in his throat exploded past his damaged windpipe. Estan crashed to the floor.
“Nrein!” Esty shrieked again.
Why does she keep saying ‘shark’? Estan struggled to breathe as his thoughts grappled with that word. ‘Nrein’ is the Agerzak word for ‘shark,’ right?
“Shut up, Hestril!” barked the man.
“You get out of here, Nrein!” she shrieked.
Nrein’s his name? Estan shook his head, driving back the inane thoughts as he sucked in another rasping breath. It hurt so much. His blood screamed through his veins. Not enough air reached his lungs. The world swam down the corridor as Esty rose, lunging at Nrein as he pulled out a dagger.
“No! You won’t hurt him!”
“So he’s the one.” A wicked grin crossed Nrei
n’s face. “Not a dung-smeared Vionese, but an oily Vaarckthian, huh?”
“Help! Help!” Esty screamed as she clawed at Nrein’s face.
Nrein snarled something in Agerzak as he struggled with the fierce woman. Estan watched through swimming vision, wheezing for life. He had to help. Esty gasped as Nrein slammed her back into the hallway, cracking the plaster wall. White dust spilled around her as she slumped to the floor.
The Agerzak’s baleful eyes fixed on Estan.
He attempted to stand as Nrein advanced. Estan’s guts clenched. Woozy exhilaration beat through his air-starved veins. He wheezed, breathing in only a fraction of what he needed. His legs quivered. He collapsed onto his back again. The world lurched at dizzy angles.
“What in Theisseg’s scrawny feathers is goin’ on out here?” a man shouted as he yanked open a door. He stepped into the corridor between Estan and Nrein, staring down at the wounded marine. Shirtless, he held up his trousers with one hand.
“Be . . . hind . . .” Estan croaked.
Nrein stabbed the stranger in the lower back, his eyes never leaving Estan’s. Blood spurted as the stranger cried out in pain. He crashed to the ground and flopped as dark crimson poured across his skin.
Stabbed in the kidney, a detached part of Estan’s mind categorized. Internal bleeding. Will die of hemorrhagic shock if he doesn’t receive medical treatment. Estan drove back those thoughts as Nrein snarled at him. A woman screamed from the open doorway.
“You won’t touch him!” Esty roared. She lunged from the floor and seized Nrein’s knife hand.
Nrein backhanded her in the face. Esty reeled, blood spurting from her nose. She landed on her back, her skirts tangled about her legs. He stared down at her, a look almost like shock flashing across his bearded face. Esty snarled something harsh and fierce at him in Agerzese. Estan caught the words “mother” and “hate,” but she spoke so rapidly he couldn’t understand the rest. Nrein growled back before he loomed over Estan and thrust the knife at his chest.
Estan tried to block, but the blade blurred down too fast, plunging right for his heart. He felt the impact, tensed for the pain, and . . .
The knife slammed not into his flesh, but into the hard leather cover of the book in his inner coat pocket, held close to his heart. The blade sank deep before the bone snapped in half.
Master Rlarim will kill me for damaging a book. Anger rippled through the daze gripping him. His left hand crackled with . . .
His charge.
Estan still had his Lightning in his left hand. With every ounce of strength he had, he lunged at Nrein’s leg.
*
The Vaarckthian marine touched Nrein’s leg. Sparks flew as the choking man discharged Lightning into the pirate’s body. Nrein cursed as he spasmed and collapsed onto the hallway floor, the hilt of the broken knife falling from his grip.
His vision blacked as his Gift of Fleshknitting repaired the damage to his body the Lightning had caused, keeping his heart beating as the current struggled to arrest it. Every muscle in his body tensed, his teeth aching as his clenched jaw ground them together. A foul burning reek tinged his nose. His pants smoldered.
“Get out of here!” Hestril hissed, blood streaming from her broken nose. “You’re a scrawny horse, Nrein. You’re fit for nothing but glue!”
He snarled as he struggled to move his twitching body, Fleshknitting repairing the damage. His younger sister put herself between him and the wounded marine. More screams and shouts echoed from below as he stood up. The bar was still boisterous, but at any moment, all those sailors could rush up here and overpower him.
“Last chance,” he spat at Hestril.
“I’m done with you!” Her eyes burned as fierce as Mother’s right before she’d locked him in the room. “You’re dead to me.”
Nrein found his feet. His steps were woozy. He lurched backwards towards the stairs, Hestril’s eyes locked on his the entire way. “You’re choosing one of them over your own flesh!”
Hestril nodded.
Nrein took one last look at his sister before he fled down the stairs. She’ll deserve whatever happens to her. Ungrateful sow!
A man and a whore were coming up the stairs. Nrein pushed through them to the bottom. The curses followed. Then the whore screamed in fright. He darted through the kitchen and out the back alley. He ran from the tavern, pounding through the dark streets of Onhur.
The room closed around him.
*
“Estan!” Esty cried, holding him, her touch easing the panic his choking throat gave him.
“I’m . . . fine . . .” he coughed. Breathing grew easier. Another woman screamed and a man rushed back down the stairs. “Who . . . was that?”
“My brother.” Esty bit her lip. “He’s . . . an Agerzak pirate.”
“He’s . . . fierce enough.”
Esty swallowed, blood flowing from her nose. A drop landed on his cheek. “He’s—”
“Pinch your . . . nose,” Estan interrupted. “Right above . . . the bridge. That will help . . . stop the bleeding.”
She did. Another drop of blood fell while more footsteps pounded up the stairs. A group of sailors appeared and milled around the corpse lying in the middle of the hallway, muttering angrily.
“He’s . . . going to attack Onhur,” Esty whispered, leaning down low.
“What?” Estan shook his head, trying to think straight. He took another deep breath through his raw throat. He could inhale a little more air, but something felt wrong. He feared he had a broken hyoid bone.
“He’s the leader of the Bluefin Raiders.”
A chilling calm filled Estan as the implications struck him. The eastern fleet lay docked at port while their crews caroused and reveled. “And he’s attacking Onhur?”
“Tonight. That’s why he was here. He wanted to—”
“Estan!” Guts shouted, pushing through the milling sailors. “Riasruo Above, what happened?”
“We need to . . . see Ary,” Estan said, ignoring the pain in his rasping throat. He tried to stand. Esty’s arm went around him, aiding him. “Right now!”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Nrein’s blood boiled as he stalked towards the waiting Skydancers. Every beat of his heart pumped crimson steam through his veins. His hand clenched tight, aching to feel the grip of his greatsword. He’d hack that filthy, black-skinned bastard his sister fawned over to ruin. He’d bathe his blade in the mud-smeared Vaarckthian’s life.
“No Hestril?” Methen scowled. “Couldn’t pry her away from her client, eh? She’s a wanton—”
Nrein’s fist smashed into Methen’s face. The crippled archer grunted as he crumpled to the ground. Blood streamed from his broken nose. Nrein almost flinched from the sight, Esty’s shocked pain flashing through his mind.
Fumpf, the second raider, gritted his jaw. His face was horribly scarred, half his lower lip sheared off to reveal his rotten teeth. “She disobeyed, Cap’n?”
“Pick him up,” Nrein growled as he strapped his greatsword to his back.
Methen cursed as he stood with Fumpf’s help, his eyes tight. Nrein stared back, his gaze unflinching. Anger burned in the archer’s eyes. Nrein itched to beat down any challenge. Methen was an amazing archer, but Nrein would tolerate not a single drop of mutiny.
Fumpf’s tongue ran across his teeth as his eyes flicked from Methen to Nrein. The pirate captain tensed. Violence lay only a heartbeat away. He stared Methen in the eyes as Fumpf inched around to circle towards Nrein’s back.
Nrein acted. He pivoted as he drew his greatsword, ripping it free with a practiced twist. He brought the heavy blade around with his right hand and seized it with his left as part of his swing. Fumpf flinched, hand darting for his own blade. Too slow. Nrein’s heavy blade cleaved through Fumpf’s arm and buried into the raider’s chest.
Crimson bubbled from the raider’s lips as he gurgled. More crimson pumped from his severed arm. Fumpf, eyes wide, swayed then slid off Nrein’s blade. He cra
shed to the soil, staining grass in his life. Nrein flicked the blood from his sword, splattering Methen.
“Cap’n,” Methen gasped, lowering his eyes and trembling as he held onto Wind’s reins. Fumpf’s horse snorted and neighed, backing away from his dead rider.
Nrein wiped the blood from his sword on the front of Methen’s linen shirt before he sheathed it. “Back to the ship. We have a town to plunder.”
“Aye, Cap’n,” the shaking archer mumbled.
As Wind galloped away from the skyland, Nrein turned back to look at the city. Questions tumbled through his mind. Will Hestril betray me? Or will she keep her mouth shut? Either way, Nrein attacked tonight. He would crush the Eastern Fleet and carve out his empire.
Or he’d die impaled upon the sabres of his enemies.
*
“More wine?” Ary asked upon entering the house, noting the pair of bottles on the table, one already open.
“It’s our last chance to drink something decent.” Chaylene blanched. “We’ll only have grog until we get back.”
“You started without me?”
“Just a sip,” she said as she drifted to him. Her arms slipped around his neck, her lips hot on his, sour with the orange wine. “A little celebration before we head out.”
Ary wrapped her arms around her waist, heat throbbing through him. “I could use a little celebrating.”
After last night . . .
He kissed her with hunger, his hand sliding down to her back. The sound of fish frying on the stove, filling their cottage with a succulent scent tinged with rosemary, drew his attention. His stomach rumbled as he broke their kiss.
“We’ll burn dinner if we’re not careful.” He couldn’t stop kneading her backside, holding her tight, her good mood infectious.
Chaylene giggled. “Is our passion going to be that hot tonight?”
“Definitely.”
He gave her another kiss. Her lips were succulent. I can eat burnt fish.
A loud, hammering knock shook their front door.
Ary groaned and broke the kiss. “Storming go away!”
The knocks came again.
Chaylene let out an exasperated growl.
