He leaned in even closer. “Yeh dinnae make that easy on me, now did yeh, lass,” he grumbled with a smile. “Yeh’ve no idea how hard it was to admit that a girl-child a quarter my size and less than half my age so soundly trumped me.” He shook his great head, scraping strands of sweaty crimson hair away from his face. “But not doing so would be another form of shame, and harder to bear. Nor would it be fair or right, and it would serve neither yer people nor mine.”
Jone nodded. Slowly. “I appreciate your honesty,” she replied. “And you were a truly formidable opponent, Sir. But does this mean we have an alliance, then?”
Stewart gave her a thoughtful nod, leaning his weight on his recovered greatmace instead of his injured leg. “It does—on one condition.”
Jone frowned. “There were no conditions mentioned before our duel, save victory.”
“I’m afraid I am equally confused.” Tensions eased, Bellamy casually strolled up and joined the conversation. “I thought the matter would be settled now.”
The Highlander shook his head again. “It’s not what yeh think. Our rightful Queen, Mary of the Highlands, my niece, has been imprisoned for the last two decades in that Abyssal city below us. Fer most of her life. As far as we know, she’s not even seen the light of day in years upon years.”
Bellamy nodded in recognition. “Ah, yes, Queen Mary. And you’re worried that the Drake will do something...rash...to her if you ally with us, I take it?”
Stewart sighed heavily in agreement. “I’m sure yeh’ve heard the rumors of political unrest from Elizabethia below. Charges of ‘corruption.’ Declarations of emergency. Dissolution of the Council of Lords.” His eyes narrowed in distaste. “Executions. Based on whatever rubbish excuses The Drake’s using these days. It would be all too convenient for his war plans if my Mary were to be removed as well. She holds a distant claim to the Elizabethian throne, as I’m sure yeh’re aware, and thus remains a threat to his power.”
Samantha smiled. “I think I’m somewhat closer in line, but that’s a matter for later. You’re right, of course. Not to mention that the poor girl has already languished in my cousin’s dungeons for long enough. I’ve been there before; they’re not that nice.”
“Then yes, it is settled.” Stewart rose to his full height, towering over them both. “After this, my people will follow my lead. Our armies will support yeh in glorious battle; our island is open to your fleets, to the extent which we can support them. And when yer final assault on Elizabethia commences, I will accompany yeh personally.” He settled his eyes on Jone. “This, I swear. We will take the battle to the Drake and slay him, and I will set my niece free to see and dance beneath the open sky once more.”
Jone grasped his forearm and opened her mouth to thank him, but a fresh uproar erupted from the now-scattered Highland crowd and drowned her out.
“What now?” Stewart grumbled.
The crowd reluctantly parted, allowing a tall, raven-haired, pale-skinned Elizabethian and her pair of heavily armored bodyguards in gold and ruby livery to pass.
Beside her, Lady Bellamy went absolutely rigid.
Stewart sighed. “Of course.”
As the woman made her stately approach, one of her guards ran ahead, positioning himself to the side between the three of them and the newcomer. With an audible salute of mailed gauntlet to breastplate, the soldier raised his voice proudly. “Ladies, gentlemen, Highlanders. May I present the Elizabethian ambassador, Lady Jane Bellamy, of the House of Grey.”
Stunned, Jone looked between the two women, noting the uncanny similarities. I knew she’d mentioned a daughter, but...
The Lady Grey approached, dipped into a proper, flawless curtsey, and met each of their eyes in turn. “Chieftain Stewart,” she exchanged a proper nod with the Highlander, but both of their expressions remained frosty. “And if it isn’t Jonelise, the Lady Knight of Arcadia. Pleasure to finally meet you, terrorist.” Before Jone could do more than blink, Lady Grey turned her eyes to Bellamy. “And hello again, ‘mother.’”
“Jane,” Samantha managed a smile while conflict warred in her eyes. Jone was stunned to see her composure crack in public. “I—”
“I’m not here for small talk,” the younger Bellamy cut across her. “It’s a few years too late for that. I’m here on behalf of Lord Drake.”
“Yer ‘Lord Drake’ can go sit on an angry spine-cat,” Stewart responded heavily, his tone rough. “Shouldn’t he be preparing for war?”
“War you’d best stay out of if you want your niece alive and un-tortured,” Lady Grey retorted. An ominous ripple ran through the Highland crowd, but she ignored it. “Besides, you might be interested in what he has to offer.”
“Out with it,” rumbled the Chieftain.
“The Lord Drake would like to offer you your people’s freedom, free and clear. Full ownership of the Highland Isles, to govern as you see fit, with an extended treaty that will leave you out of the ensuing war with the Mainlands and Arcadia.” She smiled. “It’s a very generous offer.”
“Is it?” the Highlander growled, shifting his weight to his injured leg and testing it. “What of Queen Mary in all of this?”
“Lady Mary of the Highlands would remain in our custody, as is the proper punishment for a noblewoman guilty of treason,” Jane replied flatly. “But you have our word that she will be well-treated and comfortable, and we are even willing to arrange visits, as the late Queen Elizabeth was unwilling to consider.”
Jone tensed as Stewart raised his head to the sky, pinching the bridge of his wide, scarred, oft-broken nose thoughtfully.
Finally, he looked back down at the Lady Grey. “Yeh can tell yer new ‘Lord’ Drake…” he grinned. Jone swallowed a thick knot of nervousness. “...That he can shove his head up a garm’s ass and suck air.”
Lady Grey sighed and rolled her eyes.
“Our freedom, our land is not something yer little Dragon can give,” the Highlander continued, his voice a tremor of barely constrained thunder. “We already own it. He can try to come take it though, if he dares.” Stewart rose to his full height, standing proud as he looked down his nose scornfully at the Elizabethian ambassador. “Besides, why should we trust an Elizabethian to keep their word longer than it suits them?”
Grey shrugged. “What about you, mother dear?”
“What do you mean, Jane?” Bellamy’s voice was soft. Almost vulnerable.
“I’m supposed to offer you a pardon,” Lady Grey replied, her voice and steel-gray eyes coated in ice. “After all, the Queen that exiled you is dead, right? Murdered by your friend?” Jone winced as Grey glanced between Jone and her mother, her eyes boiling like vicious stormclouds. “Drake wants to offer you absolution for your crimes, and a place on his advisory council. Let’s just say it’s...short a few members these days. What with the Council of Lords being disbanded and all.”
Jone frowned, and not just at what the Lady said or how she said it.
Something about her was very familiar, but she couldn’t put a finger on it.
“Uh...you’ve been her mother’s lover for years?” Rote sighed, her beautiful, dusky voice like sarcasm thickly coated in honey. Or maybe like honey thickly coated in sarcasm, Jone couldn’t tell. “Of course her daughter sounds familiar?” The spirit’s words broke apart into amusement at Jone’s expense, and the Arcadian tried to ignore her.
Bellamy shook her head after a long moment of silence. “I’d love to see you again, Jane. To f a part of your life again. But I can’t abandon—”
“Oh please,” Grey tossed her long, raven-black hair back out of her face with a careless, dismissive gesture. “We both knew you would never come back home for me. Your plots and plans were always more important, and that suits me just fine. Now, at least. Power was always more important to you than family. Or any other ties.” She glanced significantly at Jone, then back to Bellamy. “As Elizabeth’s older cousin, you should have known better. Instead of abandoning everything for a power grab, you should have been more resp
ectful of your duty, your responsibility.”
Jone’s jaw dropped open.
“I was never very good at that,” Bellamy replied softly.
“Older cousin?” Jone finally blurted out, staring at her friend in shock. “You’re three hundred years old? Why did you tell us—me—otherwise?”
“Because I lied,” Lady Bellamy replied with a shrug, an apologetic twinkle in her eyes.
“She does that a lot,” her daughter snapped. “Surprised you’re not inured to it by now.”
But Jone just kept staring at her pirate friend. “You...you were alive when...” Jone blinked as the full weight of the realization settled onto her shoulders, and she swallowed hard. “You were alive when I was born. When Arcadia burned. When Drake betrayed me…”
“Three hundred and thirty-four years, give or take,” Bellamy sighed, smiling faintly and fondly at Jone. “Two years older than Elizabeth. And yes, my dear, I knew of you when you first lived. I heard your tales, saw your handiwork with my own eyes. Though we never met, nor fought in the same battles.” She smiled a bit wider. “You always wondered why I could trust you so easily, when we first met? This is why. I didn’t need faith; I knew from experience.”
“Wow. That’s messed up. And...kind of awesome.”
Jone shook her head. She had no words.
“Well I, for one, am glad none of you see the light of reason,” Lady Grey smiled thinly. “Personally, I don’t think the Queen’s murderers deserve clemency.”
Jone flinched. “I didn’t…” She swallowed hard. “I didn’t murder her,” she said softly. I wish I hadn’t killed her at all. Could we really have made peace? Progress? I’ll never know. “And I acted alone.”
Grey snorted derisively. “Oh, please. My mother, the plotter and schemer? If you think she didn’t lead you to it, you’re more of a fool and figurehead than you seem.” She turned to glare at her mother again, hate burning more brightly in her eyes. “You were jealous of her for how long? You know Elizabeth took me in after you got yourself exiled. She was my caretaker, my mentor, my friend. All the things you never were. And you bastards killed her.”
The Lady Bellamy looked away, unable to meet her daughter’s gaze, her own eyes fading to lifeless steel.
“Enough,” Stewart rumbled. “These people are now my allies, and I'll not suffer yer disrespecting them any more. Yer little Dragon should teach yeh some manners. Guards!”
The two Elizabethian soldiers closed ranks defensively around Lady Grey, who didn’t flinch as hulking, armored Highlanders closed in, their arms at the ready.
“Stop,” Black Sam Bellamy’s voice was harder and sharper than a tritanium blade. “If anyone lays so much as a finger on my daughter, I will slay them myself.”
Rote whistled quietly in the back of her mind; a quick glance around showed that not a soul doubted she meant it. Even the tough Highlanders flinched at the steel in her tone and in her eyes.
“Too little too late, mother dear. Enjoy dying to our cannons.” With a derisive snort, Lady Jane and her entourage turned and left. Stewart let them go, nodded once more to Jone, then departed as well, to seek bandages for his still-healing wounds.
After a moment, Bellamy turned to face her. “I’m sorry, Jone. I had plenty of time to tell you, but I never did, and—”
“It’s okay.” Jone cut across her with a smile. “You lied to me, and it hurts a little. But it’s okay. I forgive you.”
Bellamy smiled, like Aru’s light finally breaking through the clouds. “Thank you, Jone. Sometimes I’m not certain I deserve it, but thank you nonetheless.” She hesitated. “And about what she said—”
Jone shrugged. Then grinned. “You don’t seriously think I believed her, do you? I love you, Sam.” Without hesitation, she threw her arms around the Lady Bellamy and squeezed.
“It does explain a lot, though. Like how she’s good at practically everything. Nearly royalty? Three hundred years of practice? It’s quite the omission, don’t you think?”
We all have our own stories, though. The Old Gods know I’ve made plenty of mistakes; I’m not going to crucify her for hers. Jone smiled as Bellamy returned the tight embrace and pretended not to notice as she moved aside her glasses to covertly wipe her eyes. It looks like she’s had it hard enough as is.
Jone tensed as something thumped heavily into them both, then relaxed as Esmeralda squeezed them tight and joined in the hug.
“Where in the seven skies did you two go?” She frowned at the dark-skinned pirate and looked up as a grinning Adrienne pushed her way through the ring of Highlanders to join them as well. Jone glanced between them suspiciously, eyeing the large sack in the pirate’s hands and the three more Adrienne struggled valiantly with. “What did you two do?”
“Bet on you,” Blackblade replied. She chinked her bulging sack of coins and stared at it affectionately.
“Look at how much we made!” Adrienne declared, hopping up and down as much as possible under the burden of coinage. “I ain’t never seen this much in my life!”
“Pfft,” Esmeralda scoffed. “This is beggar’s change. Someday I’ll have to show you what real treasure looks like.” She paused. “Once I get some more, that is.”
Jone blinked. “You’re…a bad influence on her, aren’t you?”
Esmeralda smirked.
Adie giggled.
“Who doesn't want to bet on a sure thing?” The pirate shrugged. “You know I can’t resist free money. It’s in the Code.”
Above Jone’s head, Bellamy rolled her eyes, dabbing gently at them one final time.
Esmeralda caught the motion and narrowed her eyes, glancing between them. “So wait.” She looked to Adrienne, who shrugged. “What did we miss?”
4
Devotion
Jone snapped awake as a strong hand clamped tight over her mouth. She punched out, buckling her attacker's arm, then stabbed the ridge of her hand upward toward the shadowy figure's throat.
The masked woman simply caught her wrist and turned it over, locking her arm with superior strength and leverage. Jone twisted and tried to lash out with her opposite arm, but the figure ducked low, close to her face, revealing an amused twinkle in a pair of steel-gray eyes.
“For crying out loud Jone, be quiet and let me abduct you,” Bellamy whispered, tugging the mask down so Jone could see her smirk. “You’re so difficult.” She released the Arcadian’s wrist.
Jone blinked. “Sam?” She lowered her voice as her pirate friend put a finger to her lips. “What's going on?”
“Maybe it’s your birthday,” Rote offered helpfully.
That would make sense; her last surprise party had been a much more spectacular disaster. But somehow, she didn’t think that was the right answer.
“Why, we’re invading Elizabethia,” Bellamy grinned slyly. “You will come, won't you? Otherwise I’m afraid Sir Francis will be terribly disappointed.”
Jone shook her head. They’d only forged the Highlands alliance two days ago; their full forces were still moving into position, were still in the process of staging on the docks and open stretches of land their new allies had loaned to them. In fact, their supply train of varied vessels was still strung out from here to the Mainland, and further.
“We’re nowhere near ready?” Jone scrunched up her face in confusion. “We’re weeks, maybe months from a full-scale assault.”
“Which the Drake will be prepared for, and upon which he will bring to bear his full arcane might,” Bellamy nodded. “It should be quite the fight. The casualties will be enormous. We’ll win, of course, but at what cost?”
“You know I don't want this either, Sam,” Jone frowned. “Do you know something I don't?"
The Lady Bellamy smiled softly. “Oh, I thought we’d just go ahead and win the war tonight instead.” The smile grew into a sharp grin. “Just the six of us. You don’t mind, do you?”
o o o
A ship waited for them in the darkness. A black-painted Nightship w
ith ebony sails, moored to the rocky Highland shore a couple miles from their main encampment. Just like in the legends, a ghost vessel identical to those used by malevolent specters to steal souls away from their still-living owners.
Jone hesitated as it came into view. “Where...where are we going, Sam?”
Bellamy rolled her eyes playfully. “Don’t go all superstitious on me now, Jone. Like I said, I’m taking you to Elizabethia. It's time to win a war, once and for all.” She held out a hand toward the hesitant Arcadian. “You do trust me, right?”
The things Lady Grey had said flashed through Jone’s mind, but she shook them off, then forced a smile and relaxed. “Yeah.” She took Bellamy’s hand, and let the pirate lead her into the belly of the black ship. “Of course I do."
o o o
Once inside, she was far from alone.
Esmeralda, Adrienne, and even Sir Stewart were crammed inside the small ebonywood vessel. Its hold was crowded; the ship hadn’t been made with Highlanders in mind, especially not Highlanders in heavy war-plate clutching a greatmace taller than a man.
“This better be good, lass,” he grumbled. “My back hurts already.” Blackened boards creaked as he stretched, obviously trying to relieve his stooped posture.
“Um...So...what are we doin', Sammie?” Adie gave the cramped underbelly a nervous glance as Bellamy pulled the door shut behind them, leaving them in darkness for an instant. Then a spark of fire burst into existence between the Lady’s fingers, breaking the oppressive shadows apart.
Jone breathed a sigh of relief at the dim light. In the dark, with the collective body heat and the rhythmic sound of Stewart’s deep breathing, it was easy to imagine she was trapped inside the belly of some great, strange beast.
“I can’t tell you any more than I have,” Bellamy responded. “I dare only show you. Hopefully, you’ll understand the reason when we get there.” Squeezing toward the front of the boat, she raised a fist, then paused. “If you cannot trust me on this, now is the time to say so. There is no turning back from tonight. Either trust me when I say I have engineered us a way to win, tonight, or part ways and let me continue alone.”
Savior of Arcadia Page 4
