Eternal Gambit

by St Clare, Kelly

  “Pockmark,” Cannon snapped, ignoring Jagger. “Bring the cases forward.” He looked at Ebba. “Get up. Ye’re the assembler.”

  “I am?” she asked in a daze. They’d taken a stab in the dark after overhearing the Satyr talking about them, but Cannon sounded confident that was indeed her role.

  “O’ course ye are,” he snapped. “Ye have six fathers.”

  What did that have to do with anything?

  Caspian helped her up. Ebba felt weak, drained, as though Jagger’s wounds were her own and the blood spilling onto the black stone belonged to her also.

  “We don’t know how to do it,” Caspian said. “We know nothing about putting the weapon together.”

  “Ye don’t know anythin’?” Cannon asked, searching their faces.

  He tipped back his head and laughed. “Ye’re tellin’ me that ye be sailin’ the realm, collectin’ the parts, but have no idea what to do after?”

  Heat crept up her neck as his laughter continued. It wasn’t like they’d had any help. They’d been only days from discovering answers before the Satyr caught them. Matey had said his grandfather had records, and Sally had promised to scour wind sprite archives for anything about the three watchers. Worrying about how to put the weapon together was pointless when they didn’t even have the parts—though knowing something of what came after would have been a great reassurance.

  And a great help right now.

  Six black cases were laid out before them.

  Just like that, the parts they’d spent months in pursuit of were there. At her very feet.

  Ebba lifted her chin to look at Jagger and then Caspian. The same awe was in his amber eyes. How many times had they nearly died to attain these? They’d been tainted, beaten, and kidnapped; ridiculed, imprisoned, and threatened on too many occasions to count.

  Now, right here, were all six parts of the root.

  She crouched down and opened the first lid, staring at a part she’d never seen. “Fortudo,” she sounded out.

  “Bravery,” Caspian told her. “Amongst other meanings.”

  That was straightforward. She could do with some of that.

  Furtively, Ebba reached out and gripped the tarnished silver cylinder. She waited, expecting a rush of courage, but nothing happened—that she could detect.

  “Hurry, girl. The next one,” Cannon snarled, stepping forward to peer over the lip of the platform. “Swindles, give the order. If any of the damned start climbin’ the cliffs, they’re to be shot.”

  Ebba glanced back, noticing the loud murmur in the Locker for the first time. The damned were talking, and their hum of dissent was growing steadily louder. Was the orange-bearded man spreading the truth of Cannon’s plan?

  She opened the next case and immediately recognized the purgium. Reaching out, she ran a finger down the curving name etched on the side. How long ago it felt since they’d entered a different cavern in search of this to heal Caspian.

  She held up the purgium and fortudo. One had two flat ends, the other one flat and one pointed. Ebba brought them together with an experimental tap.

  Tap. Tap.

  Nothing.

  Clearing her throat, she tried again. Tap, tap, tap.

  Nope, not a thing.

  There were other parts with a flat end, however. Maybe these two parts weren’t meant to fit together. Already, Ebba was envisioning how veritas would fit with the other pieces. How would that work? What did the weapon look like? Some kind of sword with a really long handle?

  Ebba opened the third box and recalled something else.

  Caspian beat her to it, speaking low. “You can’t touch more than two, remember?”

  Remember? Hard to forget the worst pain she’d ever experienced. The resulting explosion had blinded her for nearly an hour. Yet, she frowned, hovering her fingertips over the scio, last time she’d felt . . . uneasy just before touching the third part. That same uneasiness wasn’t there now. Though she held the fortudo, which might be making her falsely brave.

  “Don’t do it, Viva,” Jagger rasped, still on all fours.

  She’d trusted her instincts before Jagger, and she trusted them still.

  “No,” Cannon said. “King Caspian. It’s time you passed over the dynami, don’t you think?”

  Caspian’s face smoothed, but he slid the dynami he’d used to get up the cliff from his belt, setting it on the ground.

  Ebba touched the third part.

  Her fathers surged forward, yelling. Caspian reached for her. Even Jagger lifted his head. But Ebba smiled, holding up the dynami.

  She could hold three of the cylinders.

  . . . What had changed?

  “Why did ye all yell?” Pockmark demanded, speaking for the first time. He and Cannon had stepped back against the passage.

  Caspian opened the fourth case, and the warning twinge in Ebba’s gut was immediate. Apparently, the fortudo hadn’t been at work before.

  “I can’t touch that,” she announced.

  Judging by the crease between Caspian’s brows, he was about as confused by the development as she was. Her only guess was that she had to touch the extra part once, be blown up with each one, and then the next time she’d be able to touch another part without issue. That didn’t bode well for her lifespan.

  “What are ye waitin’ for?” Cannon asked.

  She sat back and looked up at him, jerking at the sight of black further encroaching his eyes. The dark nearly touched the outer ring of his irises. If Cannon went berserk, this situation would go from bad to worse.

  “I’m the bearer,” Caspian said slowly. “Maybe I have to help?”

  Ebba shrugged. “Worth a shot.” The flipping of her stomach said otherwise.

  “If she touches another part, ye’ll all be incin’rated by the white light like Riot was a few days back,” Jagger gasped, clutching his side.

  One of the three parts she held was the purgium. True, the white light that occurred when she touched too many parts was just like the one that came when Stubby was healed. And the same as the light when she, Caspian, and Jagger touched. Or so Ebba assumed. They hardly knew anything about the white light, but hopefully Cannon didn’t either. And if Cannon got close enough, she could heal him. He’d come back when the wind next howled, as Pockmark had, but that would be ample time to win or lose the battle to escape.

  The prince wasn’t slow to follow up on Jagger’s words.

  Caspian gripped the amare and immediately held the cylinder out to her.

  A pistol cocked. “No closer, King Caspian,” Cannon said dangerously.

  It wasn’t needed; the warning in Ebba’s gut was working overtime. She couldn’t touch that without being severely injured. Maybe even killed.

  Maybe they could try touching Jagger? Or would that just result in all three watchers being tainted?

  Caspian lowered his arm. “Then we are at an impasse. Ebba cannot assemble the weapon alone. If there is a way, we don’t know it. And if she continues, you risk her life and whatever is left of yours.”

  Peeking up at Cannon, she watched as the captain stared at Caspian, gripping his pistol several times. The black was now touching his irises.

  “Back to the or’ginal plan then,” Cannon said, jaw clenched. “Takin’ the pillars the weapon would’ve been ideal-like, but I’ll take the next best option. There be other a’semblers. She’s replaceable.”

  Whoa, Ebba had a little something to say about that—except she really had no idea if he was right or wrong, so she stilled her tongue.

  He swung the weapon on Barrels. “Touch the purgium.”

  “I will not,” sputtered Barrels. “I will not knowingly hurt my daughter.”

  Ebba got to her feet, sliding the dynami and fortudo into the waist of her skirt. Caspian did the same with the amare.

  Pockmark scowled at them. “Put them back in the cases. All but the purgium.”

  She eyed his hand that rested on his pistol and sighed. Keeping them was worth a sh
ot. She bent down and replaced the dynami and fortudo in their separate cases.

  Cannon swung his pistol back to point at her. “Ye’ll touch the purgium one way or another. In one version, yer daughter be alive. At least for now. In the other, she be dead and ye still touch the purgium. Which would ye prefer? If she dies, I’ll still have more good souls than I was havin’ afore.”

  Maybe this could work in their favor. If her fathers were healed in the vicinity of tainted pirates, they’d be rendered to ash. Hopefully.

  She caught Locks’ eye, widening hers slightly.

  Barrels glanced behind him, and in turn, Locks, Grubby, Plank, Stubby, and Peg-leg exchanged long looks and nodded.

  “I shall touch the purgium,” Barrels said, clearing his throat. “Only me.”

  Cannon shouted, “Ye ain’t givin’ orders here. Touch it or she gains a bullet in the skull. Ye can watch her rum spill over these rocks right now.” He stepped back to the far end of the platform, as far as was possible from Barrels. Bugger, he was ready for the white light. But now Cannon stood close to the shadows where King Montcroix lurked.

  If Montcroix was waiting for a good time to attack Cannon, then this was about as good as it would get. What was he stalling for?

  Barrels hastened to stand before her. “Away from the cliff edge,” he murmured to her. Last time she’d been dashed into the ground. A steep fall wasn’t the ideal place for what might happen next.

  Barrels led her to the start of the passage and sighed. “I’m so very sorry, my dear.”

  Stubby had touched the healing part. And Grubby. But there was no surety, other than the feeling in her gut that Barrels would live to tell the tale.

  “I love ye,” she said, swallowing hard.

  He reached a hand to her cheek. “And I you.”

  Barrels reached a hand out toward the purgium.

  And all hell broke loose.

  Twenty-Five

  Ebba whirled at a roar from the far side of the ledge. Despite knowing he’d hidden there in waiting, a gasp left her lips as King Montcroix threw himself from the shadows, lunging for Cannon.

  “They mean to leave us here!” the king boomed to the damned. “Attack the tainted or be left behind for eternity.”

  He seized hold of Cannon’s doublet and attempted to drag the pirate with him over the cliff edge.

  Cannon wrestled for the upper hand.

  With the growing murmur of dissent from below, it appeared the damned didn’t need any further encouragement. Ebba turned toward the anarchy, heart hammering as she watched the damned jump the stream where she and Caspian had escaped earlier. She stood, chest rising as they flooded the pirate side of the cavern, the tainted meeting their attack.

  The rest of her fathers turned to the steps, picking up stones to brand them at the closest pirates.

  “Touch it,” Pockmark yelled at Barrels from close to Cannon. His weapon was trained on her. Ebba gasped at his eyes. The tiniest ring of yellow remained; the rest was solid black.

  She leaned forward and scooped up the purgium to placate the pirate, tucking the tube in the waistband of her skirt.

  Caspian took a step in his father’s direction.

  “Stay back, son. He’s tainted,” panted Montcroix, breaking away to stand between Cannon and Caspian. “I bested him once; I’ll do it again.”

  Cannon laughed, drawing his cutlass. “Ye didn’t best me, foolish king. I went wi’lingly to the grave. But here be sumpin’ I’ve been wantin’ to do for some time.”

  The cocking of the hammer and the pulling of the trigger blurred into one sound. In a flash and a flurry of smoke, a pistol was fired.

  Caspian cried out, running forward as his father staggered back.

  Pockmark pivoted, training his pistol on the prince, eyes flooded black. Berserk.

  “Caspian!” Ebba screamed and reached out for Barrels’ hand, bringing his fingers to the purgium tucked in the waistband of her skirt.

  Ebba’s breath was dragged from her mouth as a searing pain squeezed her heart, like metal pouring over her chest.

  White light exploded.

  Barrels held fast to her at first. But the tightness of his grip lessened until his arms fell away. This time, as Ebba flew forward, the force only knocked them to the ground.

  Barrels was immobile beneath her. But that hardly registered. She screamed, clutching uselessly at her chest as the molten-metal feeling coated her insides, cooling and leaving only raw, blistering agony in its wake. Ebba ignored the hands touching her, curled in a ball, her mind shocked to numbness.

  Rolling onto her back, Ebba blinked through the double vision that was edged with black. She was still conscious, but she wished she wasn’t.

  Her head lolled to the side.

  On his knees, Caspian stared at the body of his father.

  Jagger was on his feet, hands around Cannon’s throat. Ebba twitched her fingers, straining in his direction as Cannon brought the butt of his pistol down on Jagger’s head.

  Her pirate crumpled to the ground.

  “Where be Pockmark?” Cannon shouted, firing at the hands of the damned reaching over the ledge.

  Swindles was firing, too. His pistol clicked onto an empty chamber, and he drew his second pistol. “Over the edge, Captain. Dove out o’ the way when the white light exploded. He be climbin’ up now.”

  Damn. She’d intended to kill Pockmark. But at least Caspian was alive.

  Pulling her eyes from Jagger’s unconscious form, Ebba looked up at her fathers, who’d abandoned the fight at the top of the steps to run to her.

  “Grab the cases and Jagger,” Cannon ordered the tainted pirates, picking up a case himself. “Into the passage. Now!” he roared.

  Swindles yanked several of the tainted surging at the top of the stairs forward. “Ye heard him. Grab the cases and the pirate.”

  Cannon kicked Caspian, who skidded face-first along the ground by his father’s body. “Up, ye snivelin’ landlubber. Into the passage. All o’ ye into the passage.”

  Stubby lifted Ebba into his arms, and her head lolled back. Close by, Barrels was in a similar state, conscious and supported between Locks and Plank.

  The prince was right. Each time the purgium healed one of her fathers, Ebba was affected. They were definitely linked somehow. She just didn’t know how. Or if that was part of being the assembler.

  Then the cliffs of the narrow passage closed around her. The light dimmed. Fiery stone either side extended for as far as she could see. Footsteps thudded. The ragged breath of many filled her ears, but just who was in the passage, she couldn’t be sure.

  With colossal effort, she shifted her eyes to look behind Stubby at a pale-faced Caspian.

  Hold on, he mouthed to her.

  Ebba planned to, but she must’ve lost consciousness because when she awoke, they were much farther down the passage than could have been possible. Ebba peered up at the rocky entrance, her vision clearer than before.

  She stared in mute horror at the huge crack running vertically through the middle of the entrance to hell.

  “The crack be bigger,” Stubby said hoarsely.

  He passed her to Peg-leg, shaking out his arms.

  “Stand me up,” she whispered. She had to see what was happening.

  A misty-eyed Peg-leg obeyed, setting her upright and looping an arm around her waist. Ebba peered ahead.

  Everyone was here, Mutinous Cannon and Swindles included. Pockmark staggered behind them, looking worse for wear. Tainted filled the passage crevice back as far as she could see, and the sounds of fighting echoed toward them. The damned were still battling their way to the front.

  Cannon turned in the slightly larger space before the wall. He scanned over her head. His eyes fell on Peg-leg.

  “More,” he whispered.

  Cannon trained his pistol on her father. “More! Touch the purgium.”

  Peg-leg stiffened, and Ebba took matters into her own hands, seeing the scant sliver of yellow remai
ning in Cannon’s eyes. Those behind him would be on a rampage, and her crew was trapped at the mercy of the captain’s pistol.

  She let out a shaky exhale, bracing for pain.

  Under the guise of squeezing Peg-leg’s hand, she yanked his hand to the purgium tucked in the waistband of her ruffled skirt.

  White light erupted once more, and her head snapped back.

  The black stone underfoot vibrated with the force of a quake, and Ebba fell forward, white spots filling her vision. The molten metal swept through her, and she screamed anew, throat ripping at the sensation of her already raw and blistered insides burning a second time. The echoing shouts and screams mixed with pistol fire and the ring of cutlass against stone was a blur.

  Even then, a tiny part of her mind could acknowledge that this time wasn’t as bad as the last.

  A frantic Stubby rolled her onto her back. Her limbs had been drained of strength. Peg-leg lay slumped against the gateway.

  The crack in the entrance was larger. Light streamed through a tiny hole, impossible to miss in the otherwise dim space. Cannon stood before the crack, laughing. Pockmark limped up to join him.

  Her head fell to the left, looking back through the narrow confines of the two sheer cliff faces. Two tainted pirates had Jagger strung between them, dragging him along the ground toward the entrance. Plank and Locks had planted themselves in the bottleneck of the passage farther up, swinging tainted cutlasses at the tainted cloying to get out.

  “Again,” Cannon bellowed at them, shooting the ground at Stubby’s feet. Black filled his eyes.

  He was one misplaced word away from going berserk.

  “Easier each time,” she mumbled up to Stubby. A pirate truth, to be sure. The pain was less each time. But experienced one after the other as it was, Ebba could feel herself sliding into something murky within herself, something dark and empty.

  Stubby seemed to understand what she was saying. He glanced at Peg-leg, who had already struggled to his feet.

  “Locks!” Stubby shouted back through the passage. “Get back here. She needs to heal all o’ us.”

  Ebba watched listlessly as Plank grabbed Locks by the collar and threw him in her direction.