Blood of the Falcon, Volume 2 (The Falcons Saga)

by Ellyn, Court

  “Haven’t we spent enough time aboard that boat?” Wyllan regretted his outburst against the captain’s orders the moment he uttered it. “Pardons, Cap’n.” He called to the Bane’s boatswain, “Lower away!”

  “I’ve not forgotten your nightmares, Wyllan,” Athna said. “I still share them at times.” He’d confessed that in his dreams the devouring sea serpent and the pirate-king in the red coat were one and the same. In Athna’s, the two were vastly different. “This time, however, we bring no bad news to grieve him, and we have the Bane. We are not at his mercy. If you prefer, you can stay here.”

  “And let you go alone? Not then, not now.”

  They climbed down the ladder into the jolly boat, and six men rowed them into the shadow of the Aurion. At the top of the rope ladder, a great hand heaved her on deck. “A pleasure to see you again, Rygg. How fare you? Still boatswain, I take it.”

  He blushed above his bushy black beard. “I’m hale as ever, lady.” He stooped to lift Wyllan up and clapped him on the back like they were old friends. “No serpents this time around, eh?”

  “Let’s hope not.” Athna peered forward and aft and up in the rigging, scrutinizing the Aurion’s crew. Though their attention strayed her direction, they kept their mouths shut and minded their tasks. Far different from the reception she’d received from the last crew. Pirates or not, she couldn’t tell, for still they wore civilian canvas and woolens instead of uniforms.

  “Ach, Cap’n pitched them shiny duds overboard, he did. Said they made his men look bad. Smart, I mean, pretty and smart, but not fierce enough. So over they went. The men protested at first, so did the duchess when I tol’ her, but what’s she gonna do?” His massive shoulders rose in a shrug.

  “They know their captain’s past? And Angrev’s?” The first mate must’ve been ordered to avoid the Aurion’s guests. He occupied the quarterdeck, busying himself with a determination that confirmed his disgruntlement at having the two Leanians on board.

  “Course, but you know how Cap’n is. Promises of contraband won ‘em quick enough. I won’t be surprised if this lot don’t turn pirate after the war, seeing how Rehaan’s deal with the duchess ups their pay, too. Come on, Cap’n’ll see you below.”

  The captain’s cabin, small as it was, looked more posh than ever, furnished in lush green velvet, no doubt meant for Shadryk. An ermine cloak even draped the pirate-king’s throne-like chair. Rehaan poured Fieran wine into silver goblets. “We meet under better circumstances, lady. Did you miss me?”

  “No,” Athna chortled, accepting a goblet. Wyllan peered into his as if expecting an asp to be lurking in the bottom.

  “Cruel honesty,” Rehaan said, raising his goblet in a sarcastic toast. “How does she run, your new ship?”

  “She keeps me dry. That’s all I ask.”

  “Nothing like the smell of a new boat.”

  “Or an old one.”

  Rehaan ignored that. “Is she the bane she professes to be?”

  “Not yet.”

  His lopsided grin was roguish in the extreme, and the shameless raking of his eyes prompted Athna to double-check all her buttons. Clearing her throat, she said, “I prefer your cousin’s choice in crewmen over yours.”

  Rehaan chuckled. “Aye, my explanation that I feared mutiny didn’t surprise Her Grace, which surprised me. She’s grown up, I suppose, dealing with the treacheries of men. Still, she kept her word and sent each man off with a discharge and a pardon tied up in pretty little ribbons. A few months ago, I stopped in … a town I will not name to you, pirate hunter … and learned that nearly half those pardoned men had landed in jail or got themselves hanged. The other half are likely sailing under the crossed cutlasses again, dealing arms to all three kings and the duchess besides.”

  “I’m surprised you haven’t joined them by now.”

  “In jail or dealing arms?”

  “Hanged.”

  Clucking his tongue, he sank into that ermine-lined chair. “Gimme credit where it’s due, will you? I was wise enough to fatten my coffers by agreeing to this job, I’m wise enough to avoid the noose. Unless a lady’s involved.”

  “This lady got you out of the noose, too, don’t forget that, mate.”

  “Oh, I haven’t.” That grin went to work again.

  Athna couldn’t decide if he was toying with her or was being brazenly honest in his interest. She called him on it. “You’ve been too long at sea, Captain.”

  “Only three weeks,” he said, as if he hadn’t the vaguest inkling about her meaning. “We’ve just come from Sinnoch, where Prince Naovhan offered me a full pardon in exchange for my recent acts of heroism. Isn’t that nice of him? Not that I ever feared Naovhan’s patrols, but I’ll take what allies I can get.”

  “A prince’s favor won’t do your swollen head any good.”

  “Ah, sure I’ve missed your haughty tongue, lady. You might pretend to congratulate me. The Aurion is a household name in the Islands, so I’m told. When this war is over, pearl fishers will be throwing their daughters my direction.”

  Was he trying to make her jealous? “Hnh, you won’t be lonely then. And the fighting?” she asked, deftly avoiding that line of discussion. “I heard the winter wasn’t a quiet one.”

  Sobering at the change in topic, Rehaan set aside his goblet. “Your Shadow of the Seas has taken to arming merchanters and fishing boats, turning them into warships. They sank a couple of unsuspecting galleons and several brigs before Warris and Beryr wised up and allowed us to fire first and ask questions later. I think our admirals were silently congratulating the drunkard for his ingenuity.”

  “Ingenuity? It’s dishonorable, that’s what.”

  “It’s intelligent warfare, that’s what,” Rehaan insisted.

  “Would that the serpents had got that bastard,” Wyllan tossed in.

  “Aye, sure that’d settle the question, wouldn’t it? Have you dined? It’s pleased I’d be to share the bounty Naovhan bestowed upon me, if you’d agree to stay for supper.”

  Athna and Wyllan exchanged a glance, and Athna sputtered around for a polite refusal. “We can’t, really. Er, our orders. We’re to rendezvous with Admiral Warris as soon as possible.”

  “Don’t force me to hold you hostage again.”

  Wyllan set down his goblet with a sharp click, but there was no true malice in the pirate’s statement. It was his way of begging, Athna decided. She might’ve taken pity on him and accepted, but for the way those hazel eyes clung to her, as if Wyllan wasn’t present. Better that she not heed the flip in her belly or the dizziness trying to overwhelm her head. Rising from the table, she said, “Captain, thank you for the wine. I wish you well—”

  A heavy fist knocked at the door. “Cap’n! Another ship sighted. Fieran.”

  The three of them hurried topside. Peering through a spyglass, Rehaan said, “Well, at least this one’s honest. Thirty-two ballistae. The way she’s dropping sail, she’s hoping we haven’t seen her yet.

  “We’ll give chase?” asked Angrev.

  “What else are we here for, man? Give the order. Rygg, help the lady and Lieutenant Wyllan to their ship.” Turning to Athna he asked, “You’ll join us in the hunt? I’d be willing to share the contraband.”

  “How generous of you,” she replied dryly. “Unlike you, I can’t keep a copper. If I did I’d be out a uniform, a ship, and a commission. I’d have to turn to piracy.”

  “Aw.”

  “But I accept your offer. King Bano’en will be most grateful.”

  “Bugger Bano’en. You’ve been drinking contraband aboard my boat. He’d toss you from the navy for that?”

  Athna laughed at his sudden penchant for justice. “If we can catch her, we’ll flank her, rake her from both sides.” Preceding Wyllan into the waiting jolly, she urged her oarsmen, “Double time, men.”

  Bearing south, none of the vessels had the advantage of the wind, so the chase was bound to be slow and anything but spectacular. If night fell before they cau
ght up to the Fieran galleon, she could douse her lanterns and vanish into the darkness. But she sat low in the water, her hull full, a sight that surely thrilled the pirate-king. The Aurion let out her spankers and jibs, and though Athna thought the winds too heavy, the brig put out her studding sails, too. No surprise that Rehaan was one for taking risks when loot was involved.

  The Pirate’s Bane Two had little hope of keeping up, but with her extra sails unfurled, the new galleon was like a young dolphin leaping from the billows and rejoicing in its freedom. She gave the Aurion a good run for the prize.

  Wyllan kept an eye on the brig, looking disgruntled.

  “Didn’t expect to be working in tandem with that pirate, Lieutenant?” asked Athna, watching the slow shake of his head.

  “No, ma’am. He shows as much interest in looking back here at you as he does forward at the Fieran ship. You don’t suspect he’s considering taking you for ransom again, do you?”

  Athna gulped hard to suppress her laughter. “No, Wyllan, I don’t suspect that.”

  By late afternoon, they had advanced to within a quarter of a league of the Fieran galleon. Her sails gathered up, one by one, and her progress slowed the more. Her commander must’ve decided it futile to keep running.

  “Ready ballistae!” Athna ordered.

  “You think they’ll fight?” Wyllan asked.

  When the Aurion sailed into range, Rehaan proved he was ready should the Fierans try. Three burning garrots launched from the Aurion’s prow, arced high in warning, and plunged down into the billows. In reply, the Fieran galleon fired every ballista in her stern and along her starboard side. None came close to striking a target. Token resistance. Immediately afterward, a white flag shimmied up the mizzen.

  By the time Athna climbed the ladder of the enemy ship, Rehaan’s crew had taken over and secured the prisoners. Angrev and Rygg herded them below, cutlasses drawn. Rehaan occupied the quarterdeck, flipping through the manifest. A squat, stout woman in a rich green and gold uniform stood nearby, sucking her teeth, arms crossed.

  “Where were you bound, Captain?” asked Rehaan absently.

  “Most of what you see there,” she said, “was meant to resupply Admiral Madon.”

  Rehaan’s eyebrows jumped. “Is that so? And where is the Shadow of the Seas these days?”

  “He’s damnably hard to find, the more so for you, pirate.”

  Rehaan grinned at Athna, gave her a glimpse of the manifest. “She’s a jewel. The Mastiff, right, Captain?”

  The woman didn’t bother telling him twice.

  Pointing halfway down the last page of the manifest, he said, “These silks and wine barrels, those for Madon, too?”

  The woman raised a bulky, sun-browned chin and narrowed her eyes.

  “You don’t have to tell me,” Rehaan said, sounding almost offended. “I’ll flog your quartermaster. He’ll tell me.”

  That loosened the captain’s tongue. “After we rendezvoused with Madon, we were to sail for Jazrín.”

  “Zhian? Silk and wine buys mercenaries?”

  “No, it buys Dragon bile. Shadryk is going to torch every farm and village you hold dear.”

  “That’s no threat to me, Captain. You waste your breath. All right, down to your cabin with you. Move.” Once the captain was secured under guard, Rehaan and Athna descended to the hold to search through the contraband. Lanterns held high, they found mostly weapon stores for Madon and food goods for a long voyage. Stowed high above the reeking brine that sloshed under the grating, they discovered the crates of trade goods. Silk and fine wool and linen that flowed like water through Athna’s fingers. Old vases and silver lamps, likely spoils taken from one Aralorri castle or another.

  Athna stretched out a yard of rich red silk, rubbed the luxurious butter-smooth texture against her cheek.

  “You’d look almost as good in red as I do, lady,” said Rehaan, grinning at her momentary abandon.

  Athna dropped the silk, cleared her throat, and dug deeper into the crate. Near the bottom, tucked unobtrusively beneath the fabric, she found a plain-looking lockbox, half the size of the one in which she kept her logs and the crew’s pay. Rehaan turned it on its side and smashed the latch with the pommel of his cutlass. Athna gasped at the sight of the glistening yellow ingots inside. As if unable to believe his eyes, Rehaan grabbed one and bit into it. His teeth left deep impressions in the gold. “God-dess,” he swore, then broke into ecstatic laughter. “Pirate or navy, I’ll be retiring early now, lady. Build myself a palace on a beach. Buy a fleet of brigs. Get a wife or two.”

  “From among the pearl fishers’ daughters thrown at you, of course,” Athna put in. “Besides, half of that belongs to Bano’en, unless you’re revoking your offer.”

  “Ach, well, maybe not a palace exactly and maybe just one wife.”

  Athna started to laugh at his boyish glee, but a sound farther along the deck cut her short. Rehaan heard it, too, and lifted a stilling hand.

  “Rats?” Athna hissed, though her hand went for her saber.

  “Voice,” he whispered. “Could be a sailor who escaped us.” He crooked a finger, then started down a passage between the crates, cutlass poised ahead of him.

  Among the supplies meant for Madon, nearer the hatchway, they heard the voice again. A high-pitched squeal of a voice coming from a locked chest. Bending her ear closer, Athna made out a muffled pounding. “Please!” the voice shouted.

  Rehaan scrounged around, found a crowbar. “Move aside.” The latch snapped, and a pale hand shoved open the lid with desperate force. The reek of vomit and excrement billowed out. A sickly white, filth-stained face clenched against the lantern light, while a small mouth sucked air like a fish sucked water. The stowaway tried to sit up, but limbs folded up for untold hours or days cramped violently, and the boy fell back into the filthy chest, screaming in agony.

  “Lift him out, carefully now,” Athna said.

  The boy sobbed, weak as a mewling kitten, as they laid him gently on the grating. He didn’t dare try to straighten his legs.

  “I’ll stay with him,” Athna said. “Go get your surgeon.”

  Rehaan didn’t argue.

  ~~~~

  “I’ve given him poppy wine. Should help his muscles relax.” Rehaan’s new surgeon was no backwater hack, but an educated naval officer provided by Her Grace. “He’ll be asleep for some hours.”

  “Did he tell you who he was or what he was doing in that chest of medical supplies?” asked Athna.

  “He just sobbed and cursed the pain and my ‘ineptitude,’ as he called it.”

  “Hefty word for a lad,” said Rehaan. “He can’t be more than twelve, can he?”

  The surgeon struggled some moments before expressing his concern. “As fouled as his clothes were, they were of the finest quality. He’s not some street urchin bent on finding a better life at sea, as it were. Have you asked the Mastiff’s captain if she knows anything?”

  “I’ll do that.” Rehaan clomped up the ladder-steep stair.

  Athna peered into the cabin at the slim body curled up under the blankets.

  The surgeon shook his head in disbelief. “He’s lucky that once upon a time, a rat chewed a hole in the bottom of that chest, or he would’ve suffocated. Given his state of dehydration and emaciation, he must’ve been in there a week. When he wakes up, he’ll need every drop of water we can pour into him. Then we can worry about feeding him.”

  In the meantime, while the prisoners and spoils were being divided between the Aurion and the Bane, Rehaan reported that the Fieran captain was outraged to learn that a stowaway had been found aboard her ship. “She wished the plague upon him, whoever he is. Not sure she even believed me at first. I told her that hers couldn’t be the only ship immune to catching stowaways, and that’s when my wise pirate’s intuition astonished me yet again. Want to hear it?”

  Athna sighed and pretended to show more interest in the crates being lowered into the Bane’s hold. “Regale me.”

&n
bsp; “One reason she might be surprised that a kid found a way onto her boat is if she didn’t resupply at an ordinary dock. No crowds, no pier, no way for a kid to easily sneak in and hide himself. ”

  “A secret cove, then? Intriguing. But how would a boy find a secret cove in the first place? Did the captain tell you where this mysterious port is?”

  “Not even under threat of flogging. Stiff-necked woman.”

  “Maybe the boy will tell us.”

  “Captain!” Rygg called across the water. “That’s all we can carry.”

  Athna called back, “We’ll take the rest!”

  “And the boy,” Rehaan insisted. “The Aurion is too small for extra men.”

  “When he wakes up, we’ll decide what to do with him. He won’t like Leanian measures for stowaways.”

  “Nor mine. And I refuse to wait around for the kid to heal up before moving on. We need to scuttle the Mastiff and be on our way. I have a secret cove to hunt down.”

  “Sink it? The hell you will. If you don’t want it, I do. Returning to Graynor with a prize may erase the smudge on my good name. Besides, she’s a lovely galleon that would look lovelier still in Leanian blue and orange.” When Athna’s crew learned they were taking the ship home, they cheered and tossed their hats. Prizes brought big bonuses to a purse, and promotions and renown besides.

  “Piracy by another name, lady,” chided Rehaan climbing into a jolly.

  “Send word when the boy wakes up.”

  “Aye, aye, Captain.”

  ~~~~

  By midnight, fat cables secured the Mastiff to the stern of the Pirate’s Bane Two. Relieved of all but her ballast, the Fieran prize rode high, tugged along by the wind in the Bane’s sails. The journey home would be slow going, even with the wind behind them. The Aurion sailed ahead, and with an odd hollowness in her chest, Athna suspected that the red-glass lantern swinging in her stern might be the last she saw of the arrogant pirate. But when Athna woke with the dawn, she found the brig keeping pace off the Bane’s starboard.