The Jinxed Pirate (Graylands Book 2)

by M. Walsh

  “You all right?” he asked, helping Troa to his feet.

  “I’ll live,” said Troa. “Well done—knowing to take the mage out to undo his spell.”

  “I have my moments.”

  The two shared a chuckle, but their relief was short-lived. They both had the same thought.

  “The house!”

  * * *

  “The Gauntlet is in here. I’ll bring it out.”

  Hidden in the study, Lock felt a strange coldness he’d never known before come over him. His breathing slowed, and he tuned out everyone and everything around him—focused only on the evil mage holding his sister. He wasn’t even aware of Seria—except for a dim thought that if his plan failed, she was Cassie’s only chance.

  Yu, keeping Cassie in his grip, drifted down the stairs—his face stern and eyes cold. Lock grabbed a vase and wrapped it in a tablecloth. Up close, it could easily be recognized as just that, but it resembled the Gauntlet enough for his purpose. He emerged from the study and placed it on the floor.

  The mage hissed. “You lie. That is not the Gauntlet.”

  “You want to take that chance?” he said, raising his sword above his head. “Let her go, or I break the damn thing here and now!”

  Yu let out a mocking laugh. “You imbecile! Even if that is it, you think your pitiful sword can shatter the Gauntlet of the great Roderick Bane? It has been enchanted with the darkest power! You wouldn’t even—”

  “Good thing this is no ordinary sword!” Lock said.

  “What..?”

  “I am Lock Synclaire, of the Vigorian Synclaires. I have two Eldér companions as my servants. You think my sword is some cheap bit of metal I bought off a smith on the side of the road?”

  The warlock hesitated.

  “This sword was forged by the finest Eldér masters! It was blessed by their highest priests and even sanctified by servants of the Faith! You damn well better believe this can shatter your precious Gauntlet!”

  Yu’s eyes narrowed. He and Lock glared at each other, waiting for one to make the first move. Cassie and Seria shared strained expressions on their faces.

  Lock waited, feeling sweat all over his body. He had his sword raised above his head and knew he couldn’t win like this. All Yu needed was to call his bluff or realize the Gauntlet wasn’t in the house and Cassie was dead. He couldn’t count on Deck or Troa to return just in time.

  In the end, he took a gamble.

  Yu was about to speak, when Lock hurled his sword as hard as he could. The mage was too stunned by the brazen attack, and the blade plunged into his chest and actually knocked him off his feet. Cassie fell to the floor, gasping for air, and—like his comrades—Yu burst into a howling spray of blackness.

  Silence fell upon the house. As quickly as it came, the cold faded. The mist disappeared, and the night returned to normal.

  Feeling like he was about to pass out, Lock sank to his knees as Cassie rushed to him and snatched him in a crushing hug. Seria got to her feet, holding her wounded head, and gave him an approving smile.

  Lock, however, didn’t share their relief. He felt close to vomiting. He kept imagining his sword missing … or the warlock dodging … or hitting him by the hilt instead of the blade. He kept seeing Cassie’s neck crushed in Yu’s grip—followed by Seria and his own painful demise.

  Lucky, he thought. Lucky, lucky, lucky …

  “That was impressive,” Seria said. “Where did all that stuff about high priests blessing your sword come from?”

  “First thing that came to my head,” he said.

  She knelt beside him and ruffled his hair. “I think you might be a natural, Lockhart.”

  “Then why do I feel like throwing up?”

  Seria gave him a weary, sympathetic smile. It was a look that managed to be warm and a little sad at the same time.

  “You’re human.”

  33

  It would later occur to Krutch Leeroy he should’ve either run away or tried hiding the moment he came across a cavern filled with Goblins. Had he known how things would turn out that night (and after) he would’ve done just that—as opposed to standing in the open with a stupid look on his face.

  The underground cave stretched for miles in every direction, farther than Krutch could see. All around him, hard at work forging weapons and armor, hundreds of Goblins toiled, and he could only imagine how many more he couldn’t see. The cavern wasn’t limited to beneath Building 237 or even the Tombs—it was all of Seba.

  His jaw hung open as a number of realizations came to him. The Goblins of Seba weren’t just a clan of brutes terrorizing the Three Sons. They dwelled within the plateau itself. And they weren’t merely tolerated by Sebastian Clock—they worked directly for him. That was why everyone answered to him. Between the Wraiths and the Goblins, he had his own personal army.

  “Oh, I’m in way over my head here …”

  “Who the hell are you?” a deep, thick voice behind him snarled. “The hell are you doing here?”

  He turned to find a fat, sweating Goblin with one eye, smoking a cigar. Drawing a blank, he flashed the most cheerful smile he could muster and said, “HI!”

  “Hello,” said the Goblin. “Who are you, an’ what are you doing here?”

  “I’m … uh … I’m an associate of Mr. Clock.”

  The Goblin rolled his good eye and spat on the ground. “We all are. What are you doing here?”

  “Ohhhhh,” he said. “Nothing much. I was just inspecting, erm, the stuff upstairs. For Mr. Clock. And, uh, I was going to take a piss, but I guess I used the wrong door. You know?”

  The Goblin did not look convinced. He eyed Krutch up and down and said, “You got proof of that, son?”

  “Of course I have proof,” he said, chuckling and reaching into his jacket. “I have it right—blargh!”

  He smashed the butt of his gun against the bridge of the Goblin’s nose. There was a crunch, and the Goblin let out a surprised grunt before falling to the ground.

  Wasting no time, Krutch grabbed a nearby torch and darted back up the stairs. Only a few landings up and he heard shouting and screeching coming after him.

  With fatigue straining his legs from running up several flights of stairs, he collapsed at Audra and Arkady’s feet when he reached the storeroom.

  In between choked gasps, he said, “Goblins … run..!”

  “What Goblins?” Audra asked.

  “Where?” Arkady added.

  Krutch—hunched over and trying to catch his breath—almost replied, when the piercing howl of angry Goblins emerged from the darkness behind him. Audra and Arkady got the message.

  Arkady helped him to his feet, while Audra took the torch. They bolted for the nearest stairs, but with his heart thudding and lungs burning, Krutch’s legs gave out on the steps. He slammed his shin and cursed, almost crumbling to the floor.

  “Intruders! Intruders in the storeroom! Stop them!”

  All around them, Wraith guards swarmed from the platform. Krutch’s assessment was not unlike Katrina’s: “Shit! Shit, shit, shit!”

  The Wraiths cut them off at the top of the platform. Threats and demands of surrender were shouted. Meanwhile, a legion of Goblins poured into the storeroom—the sound of their grunts, shrieks, and howls echoing all around him like some kind of nightmare.

  Stuck on the stairs between armed guards on top and snarling Goblins on the floor, Krutch thought for sure they were going to die. He looked to Arkady, who drew his sword. He turned to Audra, who was still clutching the torch. The flames highlighted her face, and for the first time since he met her, she looked afraid.

  “Surrender,” said one of the Wraiths. “There’s nowhere to go.”

  The one-eyed Goblin stepped forward, his nose crooked and bleeding. “That’s the guy we want! You leave him to us!”

  “Stand down,” the Wraith said. “We’ll need him for questioning.”

  “Piss on yer questions!” the Goblin shouted. “The son of a bitch busted my
nose!”

  “Stand down!” the guard repeated.

  They continued arguing. The Wraiths had their weapons drawn and seemed ready to fight if need be. The Goblins were growling and tense, eager for blood. Arkady and Audra stood frozen, their eyes locked on their leader and waiting for him to act—because he was the leader, wasn’t he? This had been his idea, had it not?

  His heart pounding and sweat dripping from his brow, having no idea what else to do, Krutch reached into his pocket and drew his pistol.

  At once, all arguments stopped.

  “You crazy bastard!” the Goblin screamed, his good eye bulging. “Don’t use that thing in here!!!”

  There was a moment of expectation—although Krutch had no idea what was expected. All eyes were on him, and he didn’t know what to do next. His mind racing, he tried to think of something to say … request to see Clock? Demand to let them pass? Make a threat? Apologize..?

  It was Audra who acted. Without warning, she hurled the torch at the stack of crates.

  The wooden boxes caught fire and what followed was pandemonium.

  * * *

  Katrina and the guard at her back heard the shouting and confusion, but saw little from their end of the storeroom. With the Wraith focused elsewhere, she had her chance to take him out without giving herself away to Clock and Gash below. But when the fire started and chaos began, she decided to forego subtlety.

  Before the guard could react, she slapped aside his sword and delivered a stiff jab to his throat. Stunned and gagging, he offered no resistance as she grabbed his arm and hurled him from the rafters. He crashed through the wooden ceiling below and landed in a heap.

  Clock, who had already been out the door to see what the commotion was, bolted upon seeing Katrina drop into the office with her sword drawn—his bodyguard going with him. Evelyn hesitated, but slipped past when she saw Katrina’s attention was focused on Gash and followed.

  Neither mattered to her, as Gash was the one she wanted. He attempted to flee, but collapsed to the floor due to his limp. He turned a shade of white looking upon her and her sword.

  Her plan was to grab him and demand information about Jagger, but before she could utter a single word, she was blindsided by his Eldér bodyguard.

  “Master, go!” Serk shouted. “Go now!”

  Gash got to his feet and hobbled away as fast as he could manage while Serk stood between him and Katrina. The Eldér drew her sword, a thin rapier, and glared at her with cold eyes.

  “Who sent you?” Serk asked.

  “No one,” she replied. “Would you believe me if I said I only wanted to talk to Mr. Gash?”

  Serk found no humor in her comment. “Are you one of Leeroy’s?”

  “Never met the man.”

  “You were the one who killed Dean Carmine.”

  Katrina said nothing.

  “I don’t know what you’re after or why you stand against Master Gash. But it no longer matters. You die tonight.”

  It had been a long time since Katrina fought an Eldér. She encountered a few assassins back in her time rebelling against Tyrell. Known for their quick and dance-like movements, the only fighters worse than Eldér were the Scimitar.

  Tetra Serk proved to be no exception to the rule. Within seconds of their duel, Katrina was reminded of that. She suffered a half-dozen cuts and jabs to her arms, legs, and back before she realized what was happening.

  She swung her sabre to create some distance, but only opened herself up to another cut to her midsection. She stumbled out of the office, clutching her latest wound, and grimaced in pain. Serk watched her, expressionless and cold, with the air of a surgeon.

  “We needn’t continue,” Serk said. “If you submit and tell me who sent you to kill my Master, I may grant you your life.”

  She’s already writing me off as an amateur, she thought. I can use that.

  Katrina straightened herself and took a breath. She had utilized a technique once a long time ago—to make her attacks appear sloppy, but still effectively defend herself. It was not a perfect technique, and she knew she’d likely suffer more wounds in the process, but if done correctly, she’d find an opening to show what she was really capable of.

  She began the assault, and the look of disdain from Serk told her she was on the right track. The first strike missed, and she heard the Eldér snicker under her breath, but she blocked the counterattack. Another poor swing of her sabre was dodged, but Katrina likewise evaded Serk’s own attack.

  This continued for another three passes—with Katrina catching a nasty slash on the back of her right shoulder—but it paid off. Serk left herself open, and Katrina unloaded on her with everything she had. Ignoring her wounds, she made a continuous fluid assault that left the Eldér reeling.

  Katrina took her down with quick slashes at her knees and ribs. Serk crumbled to the floor and barely blocked the killing blow. The Eldér kicked at Katrina’s side and rolled away, looking shocked and even fearful.

  “More?” Katrina asked.

  Serk grimaced. She held her rapier, and Katrina saw genuine anger in the Eldér’s eyes. It was more than defending her master now—her pride had been wounded.

  She braced for the battle to resume, but Serk instead began shouting in the Goblins’ native language. Katrina was no expert in Goblinese, but she knew enough to understand Serk was calling her an intruder and assassin.

  It was only then she realized the storeroom had become overrun with Goblins who seemed to be in frenzy over the fire. Serk used the opportunity to escape, leaving Katrina alone with several snarling and growling Goblins.

  “Oh, shit.”

  * * *

  Once the fire started, the Goblins went berserk. Krutch didn’t know if the flames spooked them or if they were offended the weapons they forged were burning. He didn’t have long to think about it, as the Wraiths on the platform plowed through him. He fell over the railing and wound up face-down on the floor.

  He had assumed the guards were intent on helping the Goblins stop the fire. Maybe that was the plan, but for whatever reason, when he looked up, the Goblins and Wraiths were fighting each other.

  “Aren’t they on the same side?” he mumbled to himself, feeling dazed.

  The smell of smoke filled the air as the storeroom grew hotter. The Wraiths were outnumbered but holding their own with several Goblins focused on stopping the fire or fleeing the building.

  He looked over and saw Audra with a demented grin on her face. She wasn’t fighting so much as hacking at anyone near her with her new sword, which only riled the Goblins up even more.

  It was Arkady who snapped him out of his stupor. He grabbed Krutch by the arm and led him to the nearest window, cutting down any Goblin in their way. Arkady smashed the glass open and helped him to the street outside.

  “Audra!” he screamed. “We are LEAVING!”

  Audra joined them out of the burning storehouse, seeming chipper about the situation. “What now?”

  Krutch answered without saying a word: he took off down the street at top speed. He wasn’t halfway down the block before a cramp stabbed at his side. His breathing was haggard, and having already climbed several flights of stairs, he felt lightheaded and close to throwing up.

  He slowed to a stop close to Avenue F and crumbled to the ground. On his hands and knees, sucking in air, he muttered, “Kinda wishing we brought horses.”

  Arkady and Audra stopped beside him, catching their breaths. The screeching and snarling of Goblins echoed behind them. “Everyone all right?” Arkady asked.

  Krutch didn’t answer, still out of breath, but Audra said, “I’m fine.”

  “Okay,” he said. “So what the hell just happened?”

  “There was …” Krutch tried to say in between gasps for air. “Clock has … the Goblins, they … he has an … SHIT!”

  He looked behind them and saw something that would give him bad dreams for nights to come. The fire in 237 was out, but nearly a hundred Goblins were swa
rming from the building.

  Most gave chase on foot, but others were skittering across the sides of buildings like … insects came to mind, but in truth, Krutch had never seen anything move like the Goblins were. Glancing upward, he saw some were on the roofs, too.

  And as it turned out, Goblins were incredibly fast.

  “We are going to die!”

  Arkady and Audra pulled him to his feet, and despite the exhaustion and aches, Krutch discovered a miraculous second wind.

  “I have an idea!” Arkady said, running ahead. “Follow me! We need to make it to the canal!”

  They ran south. Krutch ignored his burning lungs, pounding heart, and throbbing joints. He wouldn’t look back—he only needed to hear the horde bearing down on him get closer and closer.

  With every step he was convinced he would trip and fall, or pass out from exhaustion, and then … he didn’t want to think about what they would do when they caught him. He almost didn’t believe it when they reached the Goblin’s Vein canal.

  “Jump!” Arkady shouted, leaping into the water without wasting a second.

  Audra spared a glance to make sure Krutch was still with her and dove into the canal, too.

  I’m going to make it! Gonna make it! Gonna mak—

  He was tackled from behind, and his face slammed into the street, making his vision turn to static. He was turned over onto his back and pinned down. When his vision cleared, he found a familiar face glaring at him.

  “Leeroy?! This was you?!”

  Krutch looked at the Goblin crouched over him. He had seen this one before, but couldn’t remember the name. “Hey!” he said. “It’s … you.”

  “Vel-Etta, idiot. We met in Clock’s tower,” said the Goblin. He snatched Krutch by the throat and snarled, “What is the meaning of this? Why are you here? Did Clock send you, or was it Gash?”

  “Would you believe me if I said this was an accident?”

  Vel spit and slammed Krutch’s head into the ground. “Clock was right. He should’ve had you killed the moment you set foot in this—”