The Shattered Crown (The Legends of Ansu Book 2)

by J. W. Webb

  “What’s he doing?” he asked of Corin, who was industriously cleaning Biter on a pirate’s scarf. Clouter was stowed, the last pirates having called for close-quarter work. His face was a mask of blood from this latest scrap.

  “Methinks we’ve caught a fish,” said the Queen’s champion, grinning. Roman heaved a soggy, wretched bundle of bones onto the deck with a heavy grunt. Corin scowled, recognizing the boy Cale.

  “I think we have a new recruit,” laughed Roman as Barin and the others watched on. Behind, the nearest pirate ship was gaining fast. In moments it would be upon them.

  “I’d throw that little shite back in,” suggested Corin, who was awarded by a black look from the Queen. Needless to say, Corin’s advice was ignored on this occasion. Cale had survived yet again. The boy winked at Corin and went to hide behind Barin.

  Little shite…

  “Hold steady, lads,” urged Barin, frowning at the closing ship. Then something hissed from above, and the leading ship floundered in sudden confusion. Barin hooted in delight. Bleyne had shot the helmsman through the throat, and the sleek vessel lost ground as other men struggled with the tiller. Bleyne shot two more, and the ship swung wide. Barin’s crew cheered, putting their backs to the oars with renewed vigor.

  The gap widened again.

  Behind the struggling craft, the other two changed tack. The furthest beat a course through the choppy water to cut off The Starlight Wanderer’s escape from the harbor. The second vessel was swinging past its stranded sister. This one’s deck seethed with screaming pirates, furious that their prey had sprung the trap.

  Corin glanced above. Brawny sailors wrestled with cloth and line, cussing and shouting in the rapidly fading light. Within moments, all fourteen sails were under control, and the ship lurched hard to starboard.

  Corin scanned the deck and scratched at a cut on his forearm. He frowned when he saw the Queen assiduously drying the scrawny boy as Galed watched on with a bemused expression.

  Corin turned and spat on the deck. He felt drained and exhausted. He’d killed a dozen pirates at least, his berserkergang released at last. Every one had been a pleasure, but now he felt lost and forlorn, as he always did after such exertions. Sometimes it was hard to go on hating every waking hour.

  “What are our chances, Captain Barin!” Ariane asked the northman. She’d told Galed to take the boy below deck and shove some food inside him. Corin looked at the Queen. There was blood on her face and clothes. It did nothing to mask her beauty. Rather, it enhanced it. She was a cracker.

  “Hard to say, Queen,” replied Barin with a shrug. “Those Crenise war sharks are faster than my ship, but they are coast huggers. Their keels are shallow. Once at sea we can lose them easily enough, providing the wind holds in our favor. But first we must vacate this harbor, and that could well prove tricky.”

  Corin turned. The second ship was gaining on them fast. The third one had nearly reached the harbor’s gateway, blocking their passage. Hearing noises, he looked shoreward. A furor had erupted from the town; figures could be seen emerging from the buildings where they had lain hidden.

  Amid shouts, they manned skiffs that soon bristled like water hedgehogs weighed down with their rusty pikes and poleaxes, hoes, and fish hooks (the only weapons they had to hand). They rowed madly toward the stranded vessel that still struggled without a competent helmsman.

  Corin grinned. The townsfolk of Kashorn had found their courage at last. No doubt they also had old scores to settle with the hated pirates of Crenna. There was no sign of Hagan Delmorier. Corin assumed he’d slipped away with his surviving men. Doubtless that thorn will scratch again.

  He caught Ariane’s eye. She smiled once then turned away. Corin was relieved she’d suffered no apparent hurt. He felt ashamed again. In his hunger for vengeance during this last fight, he’d given scant thought to her welfare.

  He felt strangely protective toward her; it was not something he had expected. Attraction certainly—but protection...? Corin shook his head. Something within him was changing. Life was becoming more complicated. Women—it usually had something to do with them. But this time it was different.

  When he looked at Ariane, Corin felt a soft side to his nature he never knew he had. This worried him. Corin was chary, sensing the emergence of a word he’d long since neglected: responsibility.

  What was happening to him? Things used to be so simple. Kill or be killed. Drink, wench, win at dice—or else lose and leg it with the money anyway. A part of him knew those days were gone. Long gone, driven away by dark eyes and lashes.

  “They be closin’ captain!” Fassof’s shout returned him to the immediate. The second pirate ship was almost upon them. Its crew waved cutlasses and spikes in anticipated glee.

  “Hard on those oars!” roared Barin “Bend those backs, lads! Let’s keep in front of this tub of shite; we can tackle the other one in due course. Row hard!”

  Barin had lost three crewmen in the melee on the quay. Corin and Roman took their seats at the benches. Each grasped a vacant oar amid the heaving and groaning. The brigantine gathered pace, lurching toward the open water ahead.

  But not fast enough.

  Their foe was bridging the distance. In a few moments they would be assailed again. Barin doubted they could win through against such numbers this time. He struck the rail with his mallet-sized fist. Despite everything, they were caught in the web. It was depressing. Then he noticed Roman was gawping at the topmost yardarm, high above them.

  “What’s he doing now?” Roman pointed skyward like an excited schoolboy. “He’s like a bloody human fly.”

  Corin looked up at the gloom. Bleyne the archer was perched precariously at the very top of the mast, his bow and sack of arrows slung askance across his back. Standing poised with admirable balance, Bleyne bent the bow and notched a shaft in place.

  He held bow and arrow with his left hand while his right wrapped a dark cloth around the arrow tip. Corin saw the archer pour dark liquid onto the cloth. His eyes widened when the arrow blazed with sudden flame.

  In one fluid action Bleyne let fly his fiery shaft at the enemy ship. It cometed over the water, an amber jet of flame lighting the near darkness around it, striking the helmsman in his chest, pinning him hard to the gunwale. The pilot yammered in horror as his body erupted in flame. Within seconds the deck caught and men scurried back and forth in panic.

  A great roar of delight went up from the crew of The Starlight Wanderer. “Way hey! Whoa!” They shouted. “Way to go, archer fellow. Well done!” Corin and Roman traded a friendly head butt, while Cale cartwheeled soggy along the deck. Ariane clapped whilst Galed just belched in silent wonder. The brigantine surged ahead, thanks to Bleyne once again.

  That only left one.

  “That was some impressive bowmanship!” Barin beamed as Bleyne rejoined them on deck. “That was an impossible shot. The finest I’ve ever seen! What are you, a bloody elf or something?”

  “I don’t know what you mean,” replied Bleyne, looking annoyed for once.

  Barin looked puzzled, and Corin, seeing his friends baffled face, waved him relax.

  “Bleyne doesn’t say much about his past,” Corin told Barin. “Come to think of it, he doesn’t say much about anything.”

  The archer shrugged, already bored with the banter, and nodded gratefully when a sailor offered him a flask of wine to quench his thirst. “That fire should keep them busy for a while,” he acknowledged after a moment’s reflection.

  “I did not know you were a sorcerer, Bleyne!” Ariane hugged the archer in delight. Galed and Cale stood gaping on deck. Cale’s face was flushed with excitement. This was good stuff.

  “What was that uncanny liquid, Mr. Archer?” Cale asked wide-eyed and watching the flames crackle and hiss on the rapidly shrinking ship. “It burns like dragon’s breath—if such things exist,” Cale added quickly lest they thought him gullible for believing in such stuff.

  “I’ll shove a dragon up your arse,” mutt
ered Corin, but Cale ignored him.

  “It’s an ointment of the goddess,” replied Bleyne matter of factly. “Together with a few holy words in Faen. That is all—nothing special.”

  “Well, whatever it was it certainly surprised our friends back there!” guffawed Barin. “Now it’s my turn. Let’s look to this last fellow!”

  Night fell. Ahead bulked the harbor wall’s crablike arms, a gap showing narrowly between them. White water crashed and spumed through the gap, promising a choppy crossing should they win through. The ocean beyond heaved wintry grey-black in the rapidly fading light. The last enemy ship bridged the gap, blocking them off from the open sea.

  “What do we do now?” Corin asked Barin, who was scratching his ear.

  “Wait and see,” responded his friend. He winked at Cale and spun the wheel. The Starlight Wanderer pitched to portside, nearly throwing a startled Galed overboard, and then rounded hard on the smaller pirate ship.

  Waves parted like torn cloth as the brig ploughed ahead, eager and hungry for her prey. Ariane and Roman watched with open mouths, and Corin’s eyes were wide, but Barin laughed out loud.

  “WA-hey! Don’t you just love this?” Barin yelled. Corin, startled, glanced up at his hulking comrade, wondering if he was possessed by some random demon. The giant’s blonde braided locks lifted in the wind, trailing behind his craggy face. Barin resembled a war god out of the fables of the distant northlands.

  “Full ahead, lads. Wind and oar!” Barin roared in glee. “Let us put an end to this carrion filth!”

  Corin watched, stunned. He didn’t notice the shivering Galed just behind him or the boy. Cale’s hair stuck out like ginger snaps and his gaping mouth gave him the appearance of a hooked guppy.

  “Surely we’re not going to ram that ship?” the boy asked in horror. Beside him Galed covered his face with both hands.

  Corin turned, witnessing them both vanish below decks. He turned back. The gap was closing fast. Three hundred yards, two hundred, one…

  Shite… Corin grabbed the rail and locked his arm around it.

  Too late the Crenise realized their peril. They swarmed and stumbled, heaved on the tiller, panicking, realizing their folly as the great ship of the north reared terrible above them.

  The iron eagle-head ram (hitherto hidden beneath the waves) tore into the black ship with a wrenching, scraping, horrible groan. Men screamed, crushed and torn limb from limb. Others were pitched into the pitiless swell to drown.

  “Come on, you worms!” boomed Barin, his face florid with rage. “Feel the kiss of The Starlight Wanderer!” The brig’s bow engulfed the pirate ship, consuming it utterly, splitting the narrow hull in two with a final sickening crack.

  Within minutes the cold sea had claimed it, both decks and ragged sail. The crew cheered as Barin of Valkador expertly piloted his ship through the churning gap, out of Kashorn harbor and into the open sea beyond.

  Behind, the last desperate cries of drowning men were soon swallowed by the night. Shoreward, the first ship had torn itself loose from the vengeful fisher folk of Kashorn. It limped across the harbor, manned by scarce a dozen crew (the rest fish bait and a few unfortunates dragged ashore alive and kicking for retribution long unpaid). The ship passed its fire-ravished sister still burning readily and casting an orange glow in the darkness behind.

  Against all odds, they had won free, thanks to Bleyne the archer and the seamanship of Valkador.

  As night closed in, Kashorn’s folk cheered on the quayside. The men stripped the captives naked and sharpened their fish hooks and flensing knives, whilst their wives brought ale for their celebration.

  Their enemies were vanquished; once again the town was their own. They watched spellbound, as the blue and silver sails of the great ship faded into the darkness of the Western Ocean.

  Where the brigantine had come from, or why, they couldn’t begin to guess. But they would never forget her. Neither would they forget the terrible giant with the windmill-huge axe, the wild-eyed murdering longswordsman, and the fighting dark-haired beauty accompanying him.

  The few surviving mercenaries had fled into the night. No, the people of Kashorn would not forget this day. Not for many years. They had sent their enemies packing.

  Time to do nasty things to those prisoners…

  An hour later, Corin watched wistfully as the harbor slipped to stern. He could see the lights of Kashorn’s taverns twinkling into life.

  Looks like I’m going to Crenna after all. Thank you, Elanion. Thank you very much.

  A gruff voice shattered his train of thought. “Well, that was a good afternoon’s work.” Barin’s reckless, gleeful rage had been replaced by his habitual good nature. The ship’s master rewarded Corin with a broad grin.

  “Well met, again, Corin an Fol. Good is it seeing you hale, laddie. I look forward to a rematch at dice and hearing all the news of your journey. That Queen is some looker, eh!”

  “That she is,” Corin acknowledged without expansion. Despite everything, he felt relieved to be on board.

  She needs me…

  Within earshot, her small hands gripping the starboard rail, Ariane pretended she hadn’t heard those last words. She smiled impishly. They’d sprung the trap! Whatever perils lay ahead, they had done well up to now.

  The boy who called himself Cale was staring at her with adoring eyes. She liked the lad despite Corin’s misgivings and general disgust that he’d joined them. Corin was wrong this time. Cale would prove a good companion.

  He’d mixed with ill company thus far and just needed the right guidance, she deemed. She brushed salty locks from her face and smiled at the starlit sky engulfing them. Behind, Barin stood guffawing with Corin and Roman her champion. For an hour she watched them dice away the night beneath a diadem of stars. At least she had good men beside her. No, not good, never good. Magnificent!

  Corin watched the Queen of Kelwyn retire below deck. The boy followed, eyeing him warily, clinging to her shadow like magnet to metal. That boy was trouble, but Corin had to hand it to him, the lad knew which way his bread was buttered.

  I was trouble at that age, too. I still am trouble. As long as he stays out of my way we’ll get along just fine.

  Corin nodded to Roman as the big swordsman bade him goodnight. He liked Roman. In fact, he liked all his new friends bar Cale. He was even warming to Galed, who had shown rare courage today.

  Corin questioned his new emotions again. Was he becoming soft? He needed a beer certainly; he’d not had one in days. He glanced above. The sky’s tapestry filled the night, its cast of pearly billions dancing on the water. Corin shivered. It was chilly and the hour late. Sighing, he turned to his hulking friend lounging at the wheel. Together they watched the distant lamps of Kashorn harbor dwindle into yesterday.

  “Any word from Silon?” Corin asked his friend.

  “I set him ashore at Fardoris, on Tarin’s trail,” replied Barin, “then turned north again. He plans to hold council with Belmarius in southern Raleen but has business to attend in Permio first. Belmarius’s army is camped somewhere near the river Liaho. His Bears still remain faithful to Prince Tarin. Silon remains optimistic for our chances.”

  “Glad someone does.”

  Barin turned and waved a curt thanks to Fassof, who had handed the two friends a cold mug of ale each. Corin scarcely disguised his delight.

  They sipped in silence for some time, listening to the lapping water, each wrapped in their own thoughts. Barin was thinking of his honey-haired daughters and his blue-eyed busty wife. As ever, he missed them.

  Corin’s thoughts were on the journey ahead. A journey he’d not intended to undergo. Crenna. Of all places he was going to Crenna. It was almost morning when Barin broke their silence. His face was thoughtful, rather sad.

  “I feel that we stand on the brink of war,” he sighed. “A war more final and terrible than any that have preceded it.” He drained his ale mug for the twelfth time that night. “Caswallon has become powerful in
Kelthaine,” Barin continued. “Far too powerful. Kella is a hostile place these days.”

  Corin nodded, saying nothing. They had survived Kashorn, but Caswallon would be aware of that soon enough, if not from Hagan then from his other spies. Meanwhile they were sailing into even greater peril, to the island of his childhood enemies. The people who had butchered his family.

  So be it.

  Corin shrugged, finally relinquishing his battle with whatever fate awaited him. He would have made a hopeless farmer or a fisherman anyway. He turned to Barin with a sudden grin

  “Let’s go below for another ale and a final game. I swear I’ll beat you sooner or later.”

  Barin chuckled deeply. “I doubt it,” he answered. “You’re too impatient, laddo.” He turned to the mate who stood close by. “Fassof, mind the helm and keep a skeleton watch. Let most the lads sleep.” The mate nodded. “Oh, and Fassof,” added Barin.

  “What?”

  “Set course for Crenna, old chap.”

  ***

  Hagan watched from the cliff tops as the brigantine slipped into the night. He was left with nine men only. Even worse, one of them was Borgil. Things had gone badly awry.

  No matter. He’d still get Caswallon’s gold. It would just take longer than he’d expected. His face stung from a shallow cut he’d received from Corin. Another debt to pay, he acknowledged.

  Hagan smiled. Next time, he would be the victor. One of his sharper-eyed men had informed him Cale had been hauled on board Barin’s ship. Hagan admired that lad. He’d still slit his throat for deserting him.

  Hagan never forgave. He would journey south at first light. He wasn’t relishing explaining things to the new Lord of Kella, admitting that his mission thus far had failed.

  But Hagan was no craven. He would have his gold, sorcerer or no sorcerer. Then he would recruit more men, seek out Corin an Fol, and finish him with sharp steel, leaving him bleeding in some rat-infested gutter. Then he’d capture that feisty bitch of a Queen and drag her in chains to Caswallon.