Eternal Gambit

by St Clare, Kelly

  The pirate had turned from her and craned to look up at the passage platform again. How many times each day did he look toward the entrance? He’d admitted hell was repetitious. He’d spat the word ‘trapped’ just before. Cannon had confessed he wasn’t meant to be in here and that pirates were meant to sail the seas, free.

  She’d barely had time to think on the matter when a trail of pirates appeared high up on the passage platform. Swindles and Riot were there, and Ebba squinted as Riot held a hand in the air, fingers spread wide.

  Two.

  What did that mean?

  Cannon merely nodded and pivoted back to her.

  Two, what?

  “I’m listenin’,” he told her.

  Huh? Oh. “The sword. Veritas. With it, we can see what the taint be infectin’.”

  How much Cannon knew about each item was anyone’s guess. And Ebba didn’t want to give him more knowledge than she had to. But a stint with the sword to peer through Davy Jones’ in more depth than the quick glimpse Caspian had stolen yesterday might help them uncover more answers.

  “We’d know if the clothin’ were all right, and I’d have no problem wearin’ them,” she added. Or the shoes.

  Cannon crossed his arms, the lines of his weathered face deep and shadowed as he loomed over her. “And why should I do this for ye when I can just throw yer fathers over the stream with the damned?”

  Ebba shrugged. “Ye don’t have to, I s’pose. But there may be sumpin’ I can help ye with. Ye’ve been out o’ the realm for a long time. Things have changed.”

  The pirate’s eyes glittered. “Ye offer me useless inform’tion in exchange for an object o’ immense power? The pillars see through my eyes. Through all of the tainted eyes. I get ample information of the outside realm from the tainted beings who arrive here.”

  Right.

  “It’d be no skin off yer back to let us have it.” She redirected the conversation. “Lend it to us for an evenin’ to check the clothes, cave, and food over, and that’ll be enough for us.”

  “One minute,” he countered.

  Ebba shook her head. “That be unreasonable, and ye know it. One hour, and we’ll be hard pushed to get everythin’ seen to in that time.”

  A scream rent the air, and she clutched her chest, spinning toward the water, fearful of being ambushed. What awaited was worse.

  One of the damned had jumped into the boiling water. The man’s scream was a sobbing wail of agony, spanning the huge distance to the ceiling, spreading out to fill the fiery cavern, overwhelming her every sense.

  The skin was melted from his body, and all she could do was stare in horror at the man as his eyes rolled back in his head and he slumped back into the water, disappearing from view.

  She dropped to her knees, eyes riveted to the spot where he’d disappeared. Bile surged up her throat. She gagged, clutching her stomach and her mouth in a bid to keep the burning liquid within.

  Too late, Ebba regained control of her eyes and squeezed them shut. The image of his shrieking face and melting body were seared on the backs of her eyelids.

  “He jumped in there to die knowin’ he’ll be back in half a day when the wind howls,” Cannon said, crouching beside her. “Such is his torment that he was willin’ to be boiled alive for the reprieve from this place. He’s not the only one. If ye listen closely, ye’ll hear the same screams over and over. How many times do ye think yer fathers will jump in there to escape the emptiness?” he asked.

  She couldn’t open her eyes. Right now, Ebba couldn’t look at Cannon in the way she wanted or needed to. She didn’t feel capable of resistance. She felt . . . weak.

  The volume of his voice lessened as he stood again. “I agree to yer terms, Ebba-Viva Fairisles. One hour with the veritas. Soon. Look at all ye need because ye won’t be seein’ the sword again after.” He paused. “I trust ye can be findin’ yer own way back?”

  Eight

  “I saw,” was all Jagger said as Ebba tripped along the worn boulder path.

  She stepped off the walkway into the shadows where he stood, sighing to see a familiar face. Or his face in particular.

  Ebba swallowed thickly. “It was. . . .”

  “Aye, Viva. I know.”

  He opened his arms, and she fell into them, hugging him as she rested her cheek against his hard chest. One of his hands splayed between her shoulder blades, the other coming to stroke over her dreadlocks and beads.

  His hands bunched in her hair after. “Tell me.”

  “Oh, just a threat. He’ll chuck my fathers in there if I kill another pirate or mouth off. And I need to wear the clothes he put in the cave. We all do.”

  She felt Jagger tense.

  His voice was tight. “Why?”

  “Cannon seemed awful bothered by me not wearin’ shoes. Said if I cut my foot, I could be infected with taint. I’m thinkin’ he needs us untainted for some reason.”

  Jagger was quiet as they stood embracing in the shadows of the boulder. Had they ever hugged before the last couple of days? Ebba couldn’t recall being aware if they had. Not like this. She could feel the rise and fall of his chest and hear his heart.

  Ebba was glad to hear evidence he had one. In the past, she’d wondered. He was warm; the heat of his body reached through her shift to seep into her skin.

  She was only wearing a thin shift.

  Ebba let her arms drop and stepped back. Jagger searched her face as she did so.

  “Ye said ye’d share any thoughts goin’ through yer sly head,” she told him.

  His lips twitched. “Those weren’t my words, nay. I said I’d tell ye o’ plans that might be affectin’ the rest o’ yer crew.”

  Her hands went to her hips, and she pinned him with her gaze.

  “That be a mighty fine look on ye, Viva,” he said with a grin. “Have I told ye I like it when ye’re mad? Makes those green eyes o’ yers as bright as new ferns.”

  Jagger said things like that sometimes. More and more in the last few weeks.

  “Why do ye say that stuff to me?” she whispered, hands twisting in the sides of her shift.

  Jagger took a step closer and bent his lips to her ear. “Because not only do I like it when ye’re mad, I like it when yer lips form that surprised little ‘o.’”

  “Nay,” she blurted, turning to him in shock.

  He looked ready to burst out laughing. “Aye, Viva.”

  “But why do ye like those things?” she pressed, tilting her head back. She searched his handsome face, tracing his high-boned cheeks.

  Jagger’s breath hitched.

  He wanted her. She wanted him. They both knew it.

  Her lips neared his.

  Jagger leaped back like he’d dipped a toe in the boiling purple stream. Ebba jolted, her heart leaping in her chest. She’d been about to lay one on him! What was he doing running away?

  He couldn’t say her eyes were like plants one second and then freak out when push came to shove.

  Was he messing with her? Because she hadn’t read that wrong.

  “Ye’re actin’ strange, Jagger,” she snarled at him.

  Ebba set off down the path toward the cave.

  Her mind was in a twisted mess from all the things she’d just seen, let alone Jagger’s games. Ebba didn’t even know what she’d found out with Cannon. But she’d be able to mull that over with the others’ help.

  Jagger grabbed her hand. “Wait.”

  She peered back and waited, brows raised. “What? We’ve got problems to be sortin’, and if ye’re bein’ yer usual secr’tive self, then I won’t be wastin’ time mullin’ them over with ye.”

  He took a deep breath and exhaled heavily. “Aye, then. Let’s get back. I was only hearin’ bits and pieces o’ the talk by the ship. After that, I was too far to hear.”

  He really wasn’t going to tell her why he’d freaked out back there?

  Ebba veered off the main path and onto the cave path. She weaved between the boulders at a fast clip.
“Why were ye followin’ me anyhow? He said for me to come. Who knows what he might’ve done to ye if he’d spotted ye.”

  “Ye think I’m stupid enough to get caught?” Jagger countered.

  No. Just stupid in general.

  “—And I came because I wasn’t about to let ye walk into that alone.”

  . . . “Stop sayin’ things like that if ye don’t mean them,” she hissed as they reached the bottom of the cave steps.

  “But I do mean them.”

  She whirled and stared at him. “Then why didn’t ye. . . ? Nay, I don’t want to know. There be too much in my head tonight without ye playin’ tricks.”

  “I’m not playin’ tricks,” Jagger said after a beat.

  Aye, he was. Or had some plot of his own.

  “Whatever,” she muttered. Her cheeks heated, and she faced the steep stone steps again.

  . . . Suddenly, her silk shift seemed very short.

  Ebba pivoted back. “Ye need to go up first.”

  Jagger leaned against the cliff, lips curving. “Why would that be?”

  She stared at him, scowling at his widening grin. The hot, joyful feeling surged through her afresh, except this time, it wasn’t bile, and Ebba was inclined to think it’d be preferential if it was.

  She squinted over his shoulder and blanched. “Pockmark!”

  Jagger whirled, and she did the same, sprinting up the steps while his back was turned. She heard his shout of laughter when he found her gone and kept up the scrambling pace all the way to the top, knowing if he caught up, he’d see the very sight she’d been intending to hide from him.

  Breathers bursting, she reached the ledge and tugged down her shift. How was it possible she was nearly laughing after what she’d just seen? The thought sobered her. As did the sight of her fathers and Caspian sprawled out over the wide ledge, looking at her like she was half a skull short of rum.

  Clutching her side, Ebba took gulps of air and waved at them, laughing a little.

  Jagger appeared behind her in the same condition.

  She didn’t dare look at him.

  “Got heaps to tell ye,” Ebba said, putting distance between her and the flaxen-haired pirate. She avoided Caspian’s gaze and picked a spot to sit between Plank and Stubby.

  No one spoke.

  Odd.

  Was it just her imagination, or did the ledge feel awkward? Why was it awkward? Ebba wanted to glance at Jagger to see if it was just her. Except she suspected the awkwardness would increase if she did that. They’d just run up the stairs. They hadn’t spoken loudly at the bottom, so it couldn’t be their conversation that had inspired the uncomfortable tension.

  Ebba shook her head.

  “Viva and I be thinkin’ that Cannon doesn’t want us to be tainted. Either all o’ us or just Viva. We ain’t sure yet.”

  We? Viva and I? Was he doing that on purpose?

  She refused to look at him. “Aye, Pockmark went for me, and Cannon said, ‘They told us not to touch her’ or sumpin’ close, and then he shot Mercer.”

  “I told ye it was a gunshot,” Peg-leg threw at Stubby. “‘It’s just falling rock.’ We should’ve gone to check.”

  Stubby ignored the cook, looking at her. “That does seem odd-like.”

  “And he be right intense about me wearin’ the clothing in the cases here,” she added. “I made a deal with him over it. We get the sword for an hour tonight so we can see what’s tainted.” She left out the ‘if I don’t, he’ll chuck you on the other side’ part.

  Her fathers were still tense, but some of the silent heaviness dissipated.

  Barrels shifted. “What else, my dear?”

  Ebba thought. “When someone here be killed, they reappear in twelve hours. Mutinous said half a day. I wanted to figure out if the timin’ o’ the wind was the same each day, but didn’t think it wise to push too hard.”

  “But knowing even that is very useful,” Barrels said.

  Ebba nodded. “While we were by the stream, a group o’ pirates arrived back from the entrance.”

  Locks said gruffly, “Aye, we saw them from here.” He glared at Jagger.

  Ebba blinked at her father. Why was he glaring at Jagger? She scanned the others, saying, “When the tainted pirates returned, Riot held up two fingers, and Cannon dipped his head.”

  Jagger shot her a surprised look. “I didn’t see that. What do ye think it meant?”

  “I have no idea,” she said truthfully. “A signal. Or a count? I’m only guessin’.”

  “They’d returned from the entrance to Davy Jones’,” the flaxen-haired pirate mused. “What’s the link between them goin’ there and the number two?”

  “No notion,” she replied, shrugging.

  He frowned. “Me neither. But it seems important-like.”

  Stubby took her hand and squeezed it. “Ye did great, lass. We have sumpin’ to go on.”

  She hadn’t put that together alone, but her fathers didn’t seem eager to acknowledge Jagger, and Ebba had a sinking feeling why. It might also account for the fact that Caspian hadn’t uttered a single word.

  “Now the question be: Why doesn’t Mutinous want us tainted?” Peg-leg said.

  Good to know she wasn’t the only one stumped by that.

  “It don’t make sense,” Locks said. “The pillars become more powerful the more people they taint. So why keep us safe from it?”

  Ebba glanced at Barrels, who shrugged and said, “I’m afraid I can’t make hide nor hair of it.”

  “Mayhaps the sword’ll tell us more.” Jagger rounded the circle of her sprawled fathers as he spoke.

  Ebba finally deigned to look at him.

  Something was amusing him. Greatly.

  Jagger caught her eye and jerked his head in the direction of the stream.

  Her sinking feeling grew as she peered over the ledge. At the boulders below. She’d already guessed at the source of the awkwardness.

  She’d forgotten about her crew’s vantage point from up here. The stream was visible. They would have seen her fall to her knees. They might’ve heard the man scream, too. She was certain they would’ve seen him die. But that wasn’t what bothered her.

  Ebba traced the boulder path with her eyes. Though she couldn’t pinpoint the exact spot where she and Jagger had embraced in the shadows, it didn’t matter because the entire first section of the route, with the smaller boulders, was an open book from here.

  Shite, shite, shite!

  Dread settled heavy in her heart. She’d just screwed up big-time. Big, big-time.

  “Excuse me.”

  Ebba winced at Caspian’s voice. Her fathers’ conversations cut off, and she turned back toward her crew.

  Caspian’s hard amber eyes were set on her, and Ebba had only a single beat to realize that what was coming didn’t bode well before he asked, “Could I have a moment alone with Ebba, please?”

  Her eyes went to Grubby.

  He smiled at her and Caspian. “Sure,” he said. “That be fine with me.”

  Dammit.

  She bit back her groan, shifting to look at each of her fathers in turn. The sods weren’t meeting her eyes, and their message was received loud and clear. She was on her own. Only Jagger seemed inclined to stay. He watched her, apparently content to ignore the royal only feet from him.

  It was only that the pirate was willing to stay that made Ebba understand he couldn’t. If Caspian had seen them hugging earlier, no matter what hadn’t happened, she owed her friend an explanation. It was past time to set the matter straight between them. She’d already screwed up.

  “Are ye okay, Viva?” Jagger asked.

  Fury churned within her, all of it aimed inward. “Aye,” she replied. No.

  “What do you think I’d do to her?” Caspian said irritably. “I’d never harm her.”

  Jagger’s jaw was clenched tight as he replied, “There be di’ferent types o’ harm, as ye well know.”

  With another concerned look her way, Jagger
stalked into the cave. A faux privacy. If her fathers and Jagger wanted, they’d be able to hear every word.

  Ebba stood and squared her shoulders toward Caspian—the friend that only a couple of weeks ago, she was open to seeing as something else entirely. Calypso had changed that. He’d opened her eyes to Jagger. Even before she’d touched the amare, Ebba had resigned herself to tell Caspian the situation had changed. But to tell him she didn’t feel anything for him was one thing. To tell him she felt attracted to another was something else. And to tell Caspian that she felt the deepest of love for Jagger seemed plain cruel.

  “We saw you and Jagger,” he said, drawing closer.

  He gestured to the edge, and she took the hint, sitting down and waiting for him to sit beside her before replying, “Aye, I gathered.”

  “And?”

  What did he want? An apology? Ebba felt like she owed him one and also didn’t. “We hugged.”

  “Yes, it appeared like quite the hug from here. Not to mention the kiss.”

  “Nay,” she said. “There wasn’t a kiss.” But there nearly was. And it wasn’t her that stopped it. She lowered her voice, too aware of Jagger close by. “But it could have happened.”

  Caspian sucked in a ragged breath. “How long has this been going on?”

  A lump rose up in her throat. “I can assure ye it took me just as much by surprise.”

  “I doubt that.”

  She’d give him a run for his money. Mentioning Calypso and her deep attraction didn’t feel right somehow. Although mentioning the amare seemed cruel, not mentioning it felt dishonest as well.

  Ebba whispered, “Ye remember on the way here, Jagger was holdin’ the amare? Well, the tube touched me while he was touchin’ it, and . . . I felt sumpin’ . . . for him.”

  Caspian stilled. “What kind of something?”

  Ebba’s insides clenched just at the memory of it. Love. “Hard to say. I ain’t rightly sure. Just that I ain’t exper’enced the like o’ it afore. But it was strong.” Ebba clutched her cheeks and stared at him, wondering if this was making matters better or worse.

  Caspian swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. She watched as he blinked furiously and cleared his throat.

  The minutes passed unchecked until he said hoarsely, “You’re in love with him.”