by Travis Bughi
Ragnar and the others slowly gained control of themselves, and Ragnar wiped away a few small tears that had formed in his eyes.
“Heh heh, oh, he-ha, ahhh. I might just keep you as my jester,” he said. “But we’ll get to that later.”
Mosley was full on clenching his jaw now. His eyes bore into the deck as he kept his head low, his hat lowered to hide the shame on his face.
Ragnar turned to Nicholas, who straightened.
“Well,” Ragnar begged with a hand as he approached, “step forward, Son. Let me see this sister of yours.”
“Yes, Father,” Nicholas nodded, drawing Emily forward with him.
Ragnar looked Emily up and down. She stood still and bowed her head slightly. She had the strong feeling she should be looking the viking square in the eyes, but she found him rather intimidating. It was odd that she felt that way, actually. She’d had no problems staring vampires and minotaurs in the face, yet something about this viking left her feeling nervous. She wondered if it was how scarred his face was.
“She looks a lot like you did when you joined us,” Ragnar commented. “Or should I say you looked a lot like her, ha!”
The other vikings laughed at Ragnar’s joke, and even Nicholas smirked.
“Funny, Father,” he said. “Don’t let her looks fool you, though. She’s a capable warrior.”
“Aye, she’d have to be. She killed Stendar in single combat,” Ragnar nodded, “and didn’t help him reach Valhalla.”
“But she didn’t know—”
Ragnar held up a hand and Nicholas went silent.
“I know, you’ve told me, Son,” Ragnar sighed. “She is just as ignorant as you were when you came to us. Trust me, I’ve already considered all of this and agreed not to kill her. What more does she want?”
Emily felt her throat lump up. Agreed not to kill me? This afterlife was serious business!
“She wants a ride to the nearest Savara port, Father. That’s all.”
Ragnar took in a deep breath—his chest expanding to gargantuan size—before exhaling. He continued to stare at Emily and seemed to be weighing things heavily. Emily remained silent, unwilling to risk saying something that could go against her. Although they shared some traits with amazons, these people were strange to her.
“I’m sorry, but no,” Ragnar finally decreed. “I won’t do it. I’m sorry, Nicholas, but I won’t dishonor Stendar by allowing her aboard my vessel. Not so soon. Maybe in time I can forgive your sister for her crime, but not now. You should feel lucky I’m letting her go free at all. The next step down from death is slavery.”
Nicholas balked, and Emily swore under her breath. This wouldn’t work for her at all.
“Ragnar, sir,” Emily spoke up, “can you at least leave Mosley with me so I can get to shore? I can’t swim, and I can’t pilot this ship on my own, either. It takes at least two, even for the launch. I’ll be stuck here.”
“Yes, please, Father,” Nicholas added.
“Not a chance,” Ragnar scoffed. “I’ll hardly make a profit from this voyage as it is. I can’t be taking any more losses. I’m sure you’ll figure out a way. Solid land is only right there.”
He pointed to Savara to illustrate this point, but Nicholas wasn’t hearing any of it.
“She’s my sister! We can’t abandon her here!”
“Silence, Son,” Ragnar swept a hand sideways to cut the conversation short. “You will do as I tell you! You know my word is law here.”
Nicholas roared in anger and balled his fists up. Emily seized up but felt as helpless as her brother looked. Then, something truly shocking happened: Nicholas took a swing at Ragnar.
His fist shot straight towards the big man’s scarred face with everything behind it. He had to angle the punch up, for as tall as he was, Ragnar was taller. Emily gasped and then gasped louder when Ragnar caught the punch with an open palm.
Nicholas’ fist had been nigh an inch from contact before Ragnar caught it, bringing all of Nicholas’ unbridled rage to a halt with tremendous ease. Ragnar’s hand closed around Nicholas’ fist, and they both glared into each other’s eyes, absolutely furious. Around them, the viking crew watched in silence, their mouths hanging open.
“Did you just try to hit me?” Ragnar asked, eyes blazing.
Nicholas, his fist still pressed solidly into his adopted father’s palm, waited a few moments and then took it back, sliding the fist back down to his side. He still looked angry, but not as angry as he had before. He continued to look defiantly into Ragnar’s eyes.
“Yes. I did.”
Ragnar blinked, and his fury diminished. In total suspense, the vikings stood absolutely still and stared, unabashed, as Ragnar mastered himself. Emily had her hands clenched to her sides, eyes avoiding Nicholas while she feared the worst for him.
“By Valhalla, Son,” Ragnar reached out a hand and placed it on Nicholas’ shoulder. “You’re finally acting like a man.”
Nicholas’ anger evaporated, and he stood stunned by the words he’d just heard and by the expression on Ragnar’s face—his lips were pursed in a sign of deep admiration. Nicholas blinked, and Emily could have sworn she saw a shimmer of tears in his eyes. She couldn’t close her mouth, unable to believe what she was seeing.
Ragnar gave a small nod, and Nicholas smiled in return. Then Ragnar took his hand off Nicholas’ shoulder and bashed his adopted son in the head with a single punch. Emily screamed as Nicholas flew off his feet and collapsed like a heavy sack onto the deck a pace away.
He didn’t get back up.
“You bastard!” Emily screamed, drawing her knife.
“Take him below!” Ragnar called to his crew, ignoring Emily. “When he wakes up, we’ll hold a feast in my son’s honor!”
The vikings cheered and ran over to scoop up the unconscious Nicholas. Emily went rigid, absolutely stunned. Her hand clenched around her knife as she held it in front of her, yet the vikings paid her no mind as they scooped up the unconscious body of her brother.
“Haha! What a glorious day!” Ragnar laughed, turning to her. “Oh, come now, put the knife down. I didn’t do him any harm! Haha, that’s it, relax! Now’s the time to celebrate! I tell you, I knew he’d make me proud one day! Did you see your brother, little girl? He didn’t even hesitate! Took a swing straight for my face! Ha! Well, alright then, he’s made his point. You’re in luck, Emily. It seems you’ve brought out the best in Nicholas, and so that must mean you’re something special. What did you want, then, huh? Another person? Damn it, consider your wish granted! Which one? Hurry now!”
“That one,” Emily pointed at Mosley, feeling shocked but knowing better than to question her turn of luck.
“The Captain? Bah! Well, I suppose that makes sense. Fine, take him, but hurry. I have been known to change my mind. Any last words you want me to relay to Nicholas?”
“Yes,” Emily nodded as she rushed over to untie Mosley, then looked over her shoulder at Ragnar. “Tell him I’ll come to see him in The North sometime. Where can I find him?”
“He’ll be with me. We might be out on a voyage, but my steward can put you up until we return. After you pass Khaz Mal, just mention Ragnarson, my family name,” Ragnar said. “People should be able to point you to my land.”
Emily nodded as she cut the strand of rope holding Mosley, who in turn stared at her wide eyed.
“Thank you, love,” he whispered. “I can’t believe it. It looks like my luck has finally turned.”
* * *
The vikings took just about everything: all the food, weapons, ammunition, rum, and anything else of minor use that they could fit in their hold. They didn’t take the cannons, though, and Emily guessed it to be because those were too heavy. As the pirates were marched onto the viking ship in chains, Carlito was still glaring at Emily. Fortunately, Ragnar put an end to that by slamming an iron-ringed forearm over Carlito’s head.
“Eyes front, slave,” Ragnar had said. “You’re going to regret making a deal with a
jinni; that much I can tell you.”
Emily had smiled and, though she didn’t really understand it, decided that perhaps Ragnar wasn’t so bad after all. He certainly seemed to care about Nicholas, because even as the vikings took to their oars and rowed away, Ragnar was smiling proudly and bragging about how Nicholas had taken a swing at him.
Emily stayed on the main deck to watch the viking ship sail away, disheartened because her brother was on that ship. She already missed him dearly. On the other hand, she felt uplifted, for she finally knew that Nicholas was alive, well, and in somewhat good hands. Also, he was happy. She wanted to spend more time with him, but it was enough to have seen him at all. She hoped that he enjoyed the feast that he would wake up to and looked forward to seeing him again when her business with Heliena was finished.
From The Greedy Barnacle’s railing, she watched the vikings sail away. Mosley leaned alongside of her, grinning like a madman. Once the vikings were out of discernible eyesight, he reached a hand under his fancy hat, now robbed of all its jewels, and pulled out a tiny flask.
“Funny, you know? I throw the gems off of it, and that satisfies them easy. No one ever thinks to check under the hat,” he chuckled, taking a swig. “You want some?”
“No, thank you,” Emily replied.
“You sure? You know there’s no water left, right love?”
“I know, but rum will just dehydrate me more.”
“Hm, good point,” Mosley nodded and then took another swig.
The two watched as the viking ship faded into the distance. It was rapidly becoming nothing but a speck. The rhythmic drums were barely audible over the slap of the waves and the howl of the wind. Emily sighed. She knew their current situation was desperate yet could not shake the feeling of relief that swam through her. Her mind even began to wander, and it was a pleasant experience.
“Mosley?” Emily asked.
“Yes?” he replied.
“Why did you bring this ship so close to a roc’s nest? Lonzo told me it was suicide.”
“Eh, well, yes, in a way it was,” he sighed. “I had no idea I was going to get out of this alive and free. I thought I was either going to be dead or a slave, and so I didn’t want anyone taking me ship after I’d gone. I hoped a roc would come and destroy the ship. Guess I was wrong again. Just my luck, eh?”
He smirked, and Emily smiled back.
“So, what will you do now?” she asked.
“Not the faintest idea,” Mosley admitted, sounding surprisingly happy, “but I’m alive, free, and still the Captain of The Greedy Barnacle. So, I’ll drink to that!”
And he did, and Emily’s grin broadened.
“Well, I don’t suppose you can drop me off in Savara, could you?”
“I can do that, Emily Stout. I can do that. I feel I’d do just about anything you asked at this moment. Gotta say, love, I thought you were going to pick Priscilla. I thought you and her were close.”
“So did I,” Emily scoffed. “She found out about Carlito’s plan and didn’t tell me. She knew I’d run straight to you rather than become Carlito’s wife. She botched her chance of freedom by betraying me.”
Mosley laughed and scratched under his hat’s brim.
“You know, love,” he frowned, “I wasn’t exactly honest with you either. I wasn’t planning on taking you to Savara. I was going to make you pilot the ship when we got to the sirens’ isle.”
“I know,” Emily nodded. “I caught that part. It seems like there wasn’t a pirate on this ship who was honest.”
“Ha!” Mosley paused the flask at his lips, “Who’d have thought?”
Emily rolled her eyes at the sarcasm but still let the smile grace her lips.
“Well, anyway,” Mosley continued, “thank you for picking me, nonetheless. I kind of regret not helping you when Carlito had you up against the wall, but I suppose it was worth it just to watch your brother lay into him.”
“Yes!” Emily laughed. “That was astounding! I’ve always loved my little brother, but that right there made me love him even more. I might have to stop calling him ‘little,’ though. But, yes, Carlito had to have felt that beating, judging by the dirty look he gave me when he left. I hope he gets several more beatings just like that one.”
“Aye, I hope so, too, love. But there ain’t much to worry about there. He’s a viking slave, now, and that’s an existence I’d wish on no one but him.”
Emily sighed in relief, and the two of them continued to watch the waves. They let silence comfort them for a while, but then Emily was struck by a sudden bout of curiosity.
“Hey, Mosley?”
“Yes?”
“How come you won’t tell anyone your first name? Can you tell me?”
Mosley grimaced and looked away. He looked up to the midafternoon sun, squinting at it, and then back to Emily.
“I suppose I do you owe you one,” he rubbed his chin, which was now just as devoid of gems as his hat. “Plus, I don’t have a crew’s gossip to worry about anymore. The answer is that I’ve never really liked it. I like to think my first name is ‘Captain,’ see?”
“So what is it then?”
Mosley took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
“Pablo,” he said flatly.
“What’s wrong with Pablo?” Emily laughed.
“It ain’t fierce like! See, you’re already laughing, and that proves it. A pirate captain needs a fierce name, like Duarte or Alejandro! Yes, that’s it. Perhaps I’ll just change my name.”
“Mosley isn’t exactly fierce either.”
“No,” he sighed again, “I suppose it ain’t.”
Emily continued to chuckle, even as Mosley continued to frown. They stayed leaning up against the railing, quietly ignoring the pile of dead pirates and the stains of blood the pirates had left all around. Emily wished the vikings had removed the casualties, but she wasn’t really surprised they hadn’t.
Mosley would probably have a tough time recruiting now that his ship was a floating battlefield where he had obviously been the loser. It’d probably take a long time to scrub out all the blood, too. Emily felt strange being near so many dead pirates and not feeling concerned about it, but perhaps that was to be expected. Death wasn’t exactly rare anywhere, Emily’s home on the Great Plains included. She often said she wasn’t a stranger to death, but the simple truth was that there probably wasn’t anyone who was. In a world filled with so many deadly creatures, surviving as a human had grown hard, and dying of old age was more like a stroke of luck than any great tragedy. Starvation and sickness took those who didn’t perish to violence. In fact, even in places like Lucifan, which were supposedly the pinnacle of civilization, savagery was not only present but openly bought and sold. Emily’s mother may have sheltered her children from experiencing most of it, but that had never stopped them from witnessing it.
A splash in the water brought Emily’s morbid thoughts to a close. She and Mosley both jumped to attention and peered over the edge. They were surprised to see three merfolk in the water, the same three merfolk from a week prior.
“Damn, they caught me,” Mosley sighed, slamming a fist onto the railing. “My bad luck never ends!”
Staring straight at them was Alana, once again flanked by her two bodyguards, and all three of them looked absolutely livid.
“Ah, hello!” Mosley called out and waved.
Alana pulled out a metal pole and thrust it into the air. It flew over the railing, barely missing Mosley, and snapped in two when it crashed onto the deck. Both halves were rusted to the core.
“You sold me bad metal!” Alana screamed.
Mosley grimaced and stared back nervously. He looked to Emily, and she recoiled when she saw the pleading look on his face, realizing he was asking for help.
“You cheated them?” Emily whispered, aghast. “Why am I not surprised?”
“I didn’t think they’d follow us,” Mosley responded, exasperated, “well, at least not this far. I mean, it’s no
t like I haven’t done this before. That one who guided us must have overheard where we were headed. Damn him!”
Alana screamed again, and Mosley looked down at her.
“This is your problem,” Emily sighed heavily and walked away.
She was furious at Mosley for his cheating ways and tired of putting up with pirate antics. Though, she had to admit, she wasn’t as furious as Alana seemed to be. The pirates’ thievery and general dishonesty seemed to get them into more trouble than they were worth.
“And now Mosley has absolutely nothing to give the merfolk,” Emily shook her head as she muttered under her breath. “This is either his dream or his nightmare.”
Emily kept walking until she reached the opposite railing. It was as far away as she could get from Alana’s screams and Mosley’s nervous begging without going into the hull, and she didn’t really want to do that yet. The vikings hadn’t disarmed her, which was nice. She still had her knife at her waist and her bow slung over her shoulder. Her pack could still be somewhere onboard, likely ransacked, but at least the letters were okay. Emily patted her vest and felt them press against her skin. She’d take them out soon, but for now, she tried to enjoy the scenery.
The Greedy Barnacle was close enough to Savara for the landscape to be seen in detail. What had once been a yellow blur on the horizon was now a vast landscape drawn as if by an artist with wide strokes of a brush. Emily saw the never-ending sand dunes rolling up and down like the grassy hills of the plains she’d been born on. She felt the sun, too, just as harsh as she’d expected: bright, fierce, and merciless. Emily was thankful her skin had hardened under the tutelage of the Great Plains before coming here. If she had not been wearing this amazon outfit for a year, this heat would cause her tremendous amounts of pain. Even now, standing still in the ocean breeze, she could feel her skin sweat against every object it touched.
Hadn’t a pirate told her a remedy to this? Ah, yes, she remembered, I should find some covering, like one of those sun umbrellas the rich use in Lucifan. Emily breathed deeply and felt her lungs fill with the hot air. Actually, maybe she wouldn’t. It wasn’t so bad.
