by Rob J. Hayes
Daimen drained his tankard and slammed it down onto the table. “Reckon I might go take a piss, mate.”
“Feel free to not come back,” Tanner said, a dark look in his eyes that had Daimen agreeing it might be best to leave the pirate alone. Tanner might be acting civil now, but it clearly didn’t sit well in his gut.
Daimen gave the man a mocking smile as he stood and started shoving his way through the dancing and cavorting pirates towards the tavern door.
“Drink to the fallen,” Princess shouted.
Daimen slammed the door behind him before the others could complete their toast.
“We'll be joining them soon!” the muffled words travelled easily through the door.
It was a dark night, and a dark mood settled in upon Daimen. He’d drunk enough that he felt a little tipsy, and not even the rare cool breeze blowing through the town could lift his spirits. He felt cheated and used and angry.
Turning towards the ocean, Daimen started walking. He needed a piss, it was true, and the sound of the waves lapping against the sand had always helped him get things started, but it was more than that. Daimen needed his spirits lifting, and the sight of the sea and the boats floating in the bay might just help him with that.
The Merry Fuck, New Sev’relain’s largest whore house, was just across the way from the Righteous Indignation, and it was alive with light and sound spilling out of every door and window. No doubt the whores would be making something close to a killing on a night like this, filled with the coins of the victorious. Daimen had grown up in an establishment just like it, and though he’d long ago put his past behind him, he never visited brothels.
The streets of New Sev’relain were as full of hustle and bustle as its taverns and whore houses. Daimen had rarely seen a town so drunk on its own celebration. Just a year ago he’d have been given nods of respect, maybe even the odd kind word. Now all he received were hostile stares or the quick aversion of eyes. Only Admiral Tatters stared up at him without animosity. Daimen approached the terminal drunk and flipped a bronze bit into the dirt next to him.
“Thank you, kind sir,” Tatters slurred, pawing around in the dust to find the coin.
“Reckon ya might be able to go home now, Tatters,” Daimen said with a smile he didn’t feel.
“Home,” Tatters mumbled. “I am home.”
“Nah, mate. I mean ya real home. Sarth or some such, aye? Ain’t you got family there, maybe waiting for ya? Parents? Wife? Kids?”
Tatters frowned and raised a mostly empty bottle to his lips. “No. Sarth not home. Nothing there. I live here. Always have. Always will.”
Daimen groaned, and walked away with a shake of his head. Tatters was one more victim of Drake Morrass. The man had once been a proud admiral of Sarth. Now he lay on the streets of New Sev’relain, broken and drunk and trying desperately to forget his past.
Daimen stopped and turned back to Tatters. “That Arbiter. The one that followed Drake around. She killed him. Now, I don’t know what that means exactly as it pertains to her faith and yours – what’s left of it, anyways – but she killed him.”
Admiral Tatters frowned, and Daimen thought he saw a tear roll down the man’s face. Maybe he would sober up and return to Sarth, maybe not. Daimen hoped he could find some redemption though, if only to gain one small victory over Morrass.
Just a short way down towards the beach, Daimen spotted Elaina Black through a window. The woman was gesticulating wildly and her mouth was moving, saying something Daimen couldn’t hear. Whatever it was, she seemed animated. Then he saw Breta, the council woman, standing opposite Elaina, her arms crossed and a resolute look on her face.
Daimen almost laughed. He’d dealt with Breta and the rest of the council a few times, and he didn’t envy Elaina’s new position. Only Drake had ever been able to manipulate the formidable woman into anything, and even then she’d soon swung back to her own way of thinking. Breta was more responsible for the success of New Sev’relain than anyone else alive, and Elaina would need to realise that quickly if she was to survive her new crown.
The sandy beach of New Sev’relain’s port was busy with drunkenness, and musical notes drifted around the sound of bonfires crackle-popping. Daimen gave them all a wide berth; he had no wish to find himself confronted by a group of hostile pirates when there was a handy fire nearby for flaming acts of punishment.
Moving a fair way into the darkness, Daimen took in a deep breath, pulled out his cock, and started to piss, staring out towards the bay. It dawned on him that he’d need a new ship. Mary’s Virtue was long gone, another set of bones littering the waters around the island of Ash. There were plenty of available boats captured from their enemies now, though, and not nearly enough able captains for them. With Stillwater’s recommendation, Daimen would be sure to secure himself a vessel. The harder job would be finding a crew who didn’t know him, or finding the folk that didn’t believe him a traitor. Once he’d found himself the pirates to sail the boat, he could finally get back out on the water, under his own command again.
Of course, they wouldn’t be able to pirate any more, at least not like they used to. No. They would be tax collectors now; the only pirating to be done was to the ships who refused to pay to sail their waters. Daimen laughed bitterly.
“I guess the golden age of piracy is good and done now,” he muttered as he tucked his cock back into his breeches.
Debilitating pain blossomed in Daimen’s back, and in the same moment someone whispered “Traitor” in his ear. He staggered for a moment, and then his knees buckled, the sand rushing up to meet him. It dawned on him that he’d been stabbed, and the assassin had done a damned good job of it.
Daimen could feel the wetness spreading across his back, and the light was starting to fade. He couldn’t breathe, let alone shout for help. It took all the effort he could muster to roll over, and the last thing he saw was a slim man in a faded green suit stalking away in the darkness.
Chapter 75 - North Squall
T’ruck stared out towards the bay beyond New Sev’relain, at the ships that floated there. Some were bigger than others, but North Storm was gone. The biggest ship ever to sail the waters of the Pirate Isles, his ship, was nothing but wreckage lying at the bottom of a nameless stretch of deep blue.
He was sitting on a bench set out on the beach, a wooden table before him with two mugs of ale atop it. One was for him, and the other was for Yu’truda. She was gone, but not really. He felt her inside somehow – not quite her presence, nor even her memories, but there was something of her inside him. It was comforting in a strange way.
Lady Tsokei seemed to glide across the sand as she approached, and she lowered herself onto the bench across the table, her dark eyes boring into T’ruck’s own. He was just glad the witch was suppressing her aura of fear. He wasn’t in the mood to shit his britches.
“I have spoken to your queen,” Lady Tsokei said, a wry smile on her lips.
“Our queen,” T’ruck rumbled. “You helped. One of us now as much as any other.”
Lady Tsokei gave a short nod. “She seems to agree that given the king’s death, and his murderer, the Inquisition should be looked upon unfavourably here in the isles.”
“Safe harbour, is it?”
“As safe as one can be for people like me.” The witch smiled. “I have decided to stay with you for a while, Captain. I quite enjoy the sea.”
T’ruck shook his head. “I don’t even have a boat.”
“What about the Man of War we took towards the end of the battle?”
Again T’ruck shook his head. “Smaller than my last. They’re all smaller than my last.”
“I see.” Lady Tsokei looked past T’ruck and nodded. A few moments later Pocket flopped down onto the bench next to him, dumping a small ball of mottled brown fur on the table.
T’ruck glanced first at the witch, and then at his first mate, before turning his attention back to the ball of fur. It slowly uncurled into the shape of a kitte
n, with paws and ears too large for its body and innocent black eyes. It stared up at T’ruck and meowed quietly.
“What’s this?”
“New ship needs a cat, Captain,” Pocket said with a grin.
“She is smaller than the last one,” Lady Tsokei said. “But I am told the cat will be almost as large as me when fully grown.”
T’ruck snorted and poked a big finger at the kitten, knocking it onto its back. The little creature rolled onto its paws and leapt at T’ruck’s finger, savaging the digit with claws and teeth too small to do any damage.
“Crew is behind you, Captain,” Pocket continued. “Whichever ship you choose.”
T’ruck laughed as the kitten continued to attack his finger. The Five Kingdoms had beaten him and taken his entire clan away, killed them all. T’ruck Khan was the last of them. But he’d beaten the Five Kingdoms right back, and now he had a new clan. It was, now he thought about it, a far bigger clan than his last one.
Chapter 76 - Starry Dawn
Ten ships were preparing to leave, Starry Dawn among them. One ship was headed back to Chade, one of only two that had survived the battle. Rose might not be happy about the loss of so many of her vessels, but Elaina was sending reassurances that their agreement, and their friendship, still held. Elaina needed the alliance with Chade, and she suspected Chade needed the Pirate Isles too.
“I’ll be certain to send the Black Thorn your kindest regards,” a man slurred behind her. Elaina turned to see Drake Morrass’ spy grinning at her.
“You work for them too?” she said.
“My loyalties are many,” Anders confirmed with a deep bow. “I prefer to think I work with the Black Thorn. Though some of his people don’t like me very much.”
“Can’t think why.”
“Indeed. I’m a wonderfully amiable sort. Loved and feared by all.”
“Uh huh. One less loyalty now, though, eh?”
“What’s that?”
“Now Drake is gone.”
“Oh, that. Of course. Gone but not forgotten. I suspect you’ll build a statue of him or something.”
“Aye, or something.”
“Well, good luck, Your Majesty.” Anders dipped into a deep, sweeping bow, before rising unsteadily and staggering off towards the gangplank. He greeted a woman waiting for him there with a drunken hug. Elaina watched him go and then looked to the ship’s captain. The woman simply shrugged and followed the spy up to her ship.
Two of the ships leaving were from Larkos. A total of five vessels from the free city had survived the battle, and three of those had already gone, though with much reduced crews. Elaina had already sent a message of thanks to the Council of Thirteen, and another to the Queen of Blades.
Seven of the ships making preparations were her escort to Land’s End. It was a military force, and a substantial one. They’d already sent word to the Five Kingdoms that Elaina wanted to talk peace, but there was no way to know if they would be well received or hanged for the courtesy. Elaina intended to take enough of a naval presence that they could blockade the port if need be.
The docks were beyond busy, with supplies being loaded onto ships and pirates being roused from the town and marched onto their boats. Keelin was helping to load barrels of salted beef onto The Phoenix; he’d volunteered to accompany Elaina, and she’d been happy to accept.
Spotting her watching, Keelin wiped sweat from his forehead and dodged around a pirate carrying a hefty crate, launching himself down the gangplank and strolling her way. Elaina watched him with an amused grin, barely listening to Surge’s report on the status of Starry Dawn’s own loading.
“I was hoping we could have a word before we leave,” Keelin said, straightening the lapels on his jacket. Elaina liked that he was starting to take care of his appearance again; he’d even shaved recently.
“Standing right here, aren’t I?” Elaina only half turned towards him, as if she were actually listening to Surge.
“Right, it’s just…” Keelin drew in a deep breath, then sighed, as if he couldn’t find the words.
Elaina glanced at her fellow captain. “Go on. I’m listening.” She turned back towards Surge, who by now had stopped his report and was struggling not to laugh.
“Back in HwoyonDo, in the Observatory. What you said…”
“What did I say?”
“About preferring to sit beside me on the throne, instead of Morrass.”
“Oh.” Elaina glanced at Keelin and shrugged. “I might have. Long time ago. What of it?”
Keelin laughed. “Damnit, Elaina, you know what I mean.”
“Aye,” Elaina said, “I do. Still wanna hear you say it though.”
“Drake’s gone. I’d like it to be me who… sits beside you on the throne.”
Elaina grinned at Keelin, stepped close, and kissed him. She grabbed hold of his ass, and he gripped her waist, pulling her closer. It lasted only a moment before Elaina pushed away and stepped clear of him, a grin still fixed on her face. She felt her blood racing and her heart pounding. She wanted nothing so much as to drag Keelin to her cabin and see how much punishment her little cot could take. From the bulge in his trousers, she suspected Keelin had much the same urge.
“Maybe,” she said. “I have to focus on the peace talks for now. Ask me again afterwards.” With that she turned and started towards Starry Dawn, unable to wipe away her grin.
Chapter 77 - Starry Dawn
“It itches,” Keelin said, fidgeting and pulling at his collar.
“I reckon it’s supposed to,” Elaina said. “Something about keeping us off guard, maybe.”
Keelin snorted. “No. I grew up around here, remember. This is standard formal attire for these people.”
Elaina raised an eyebrow at him and turned her attention back to the dress. It was long and sleek, made from silk so it would cling to her curves and ripple as she moved. As black as her hair and name, it was cut modestly to hide her cleavage. The dress was beautiful, and Elaina had never before had a chance to wear its like. She’d rarely had a chance to wear any dress in her life. She wondered how she’d look in it, and wagered she’d be beautiful.
“I’m not wearing it,” she stated firmly.
“I think you’d look good in it,” Keelin said.
“I’d look fucking stunning in it.” Elaina grinned for just a moment. “Still not wearing it. And take off that suit – get back into ya normal clothes.”
“Gladly,” Keelin said, already unbuttoning the shirt. “You know how I like my fancy jackets, but this is just stifling. I honestly don’t know how folk can wear it. Damn near cuts off the airway. And these cuffs…”
“They’re trying to fit us into their world,” Elaina said. “Dress us up like them to… I dunno, civilise us, or something. Make us fit in with the rest of them.” She sighed deeply. “But we don’t fit in. That’s kind of the point, ain’t it.”
Keelin was still stripping, throwing the uncomfortable clothes onto a nearby chair. Elaina watched him undress. She decided she’d keep the dress. She would never wear it in front of any Five Kingdoms bastards, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t find another time to slip into it.
“Take your time,” she said playfully as Keelin pulled his old trousers up around his waist. He glanced at her over his shoulder and winked. Elaina just stared back.
Once he was dressed in his worn old suit of royal blue with gold trim, Elaina nodded at his cutlasses, discarded on a nearby couch.
Keelin laughed. “You think we’re gonna need weapons?”
“I think we won the war,” Elaina said. “And we’ve come to the seat of our enemy to demand they acquiesce to our demands. To demand peace. And I think that as we’re the only two here, we should be carrying as many weapons as we can.” She patted her own sword, buckled at her hip, for effect.
Once Keelin was armed again, they opened the door and signalled for the waiting attendant to lead them to his king. It wasn’t a long walk, but then Land’s End wasn’t the
capital of the Five Kingdoms, and its palace wasn’t the greatest. The attendant talked as they went, and he assured Elaina that each of the six royal palaces in the capital city, Goldseat, were far grander. The man described gilded pillars of stone that took five men holding hands to circle, and a throne made entirely of gold. Elaina made sure to seem unimpressed. The truth was that she couldn’t not be impressed, given the sheer extravagance of such a waste of good gold.
Eventually they arrived at a set of grand oak doors with four guards standing outside, two wearing the blue-black of Sarth and the others in the white-gold of the Five Kingdoms.
“Perhaps we should have brought T’ruck to wait outside,” Keelin joked, and Elaina snorted out a laugh.
The doors were opened in short order, and Elaina and Keelin went through side by side.
“Queen Elaina Black and Captain Keelin Stillwater,” their attendant announced to the room, as though everyone there didn’t already know their names.
The first thing Elaina noticed was the guards. Two men and a woman dressed in plated metal armour stood near their king, and all three were well armed. One of the men was a giant, with a metal spear even taller than he was. Elaina was determined not to appear intimidated by their opposition bringing muscle to a negotiation.
“Welcome,” said King Jackt Veritean. He was wearing the exact same fake smile he’d worn when they first met just two days ago. The man was young and pretty and was dressed impeccably in a white suit and a golden crown that sat lightly upon his dark hair. He beckoned to two empty seats around the circular table.
Sitting next to the king was an older man with rosy cheeks. He looked like he was related. The size of the Veritean family was almost legendary, understandable given that its kings were required to take multiple wives.
The other man at the table was tall and thin with the golden hair that was so ubiquitous in the people of Sarth. He had piercing blue eyes and a thick blond moustache. He was, if anything, even younger than the Five Kingdoms king.
