If I Were a Herald
Chapter 33
Courtesy of the Red, White and Blue
Disclaimer: No, I still don't own it. Toby Keith is bloody awesome. Did I mention that this used to be my favorite song? Oh, and by the way, I typed the lyrics purely from memory. I'm almost certain they're correct, but I don't feel like actually listening to the song. Not when I can turn it on and off in my head more easily than on the computer. I've certainly listened to it often enough.
A/N (12/16/05): Well, I've gotten three reviews already, so it's time to post this. Since I already had it written. We're beginning to get into the really fun stuff.
Fireblade: Seduce Mortimer? That's terrible! And entirely unromantic. (In case you couldn't tell, at the moment my head is stuffed full of romantic drivel. I've been trying not to let it show through in my writing. I prefer to think that I'm above that sort of thing.) And who said you had to be legal to get drunk:halo:
Blood-Covered-Ivory: Aha! I have discovered the identity of one of my lurkers. As for the keel-hauling…I may have to go back and add that. How did that verse go again? I could probably look it up (I have a list of about a hundred verses) but I don't feel like doing that at the moment. And no, the deadline does not go unnoticed. In fact, this is the chapter. As for the songs…it seems our minds work on the same level. I'm guessing that you listen to country, too, else you'd never have thought of that song.
Jerry Unipeg: Yeah, it's a pretty common sea shanty.
Ugh. It was Monday again. That meant I had—
Oh. My. God. Today was the last day I had to get rid of Mortimer. And I'd already slept the morning away.
Damn.
Well, at least I didn't have a hangover. Must have already slept it off.
Someone—probably Jacoby—had thoughtfully collected my various articles of clothing and piled them by the bed. I slipped into them, only slightly embarrassed about my behavior for the past few days. I'd been drunk, for crying out loud. And it wasn't like I'd actually stripped all the way. I'd still been wearing my underwear. Okay, so it was a bit more embarrassing than that time at the Karaoke Wall—but that had only taken me a couple hours, and I'd been among friends. And the pirate club had put me in charge of protecting the rum. It didn't need protection if it was all gone, right?
I strapped my sword to my side and checked to make sure I still had all my knives. Wait—where was my Robin Hood dagger?
:You gave it to Jacoby: Lyrna reminded me.
Okay. Good. So I hadn't lost it.
Loud voices greeted me as I stepped onto deck. I winced. Okay, so maybe I did have a hangover. Just a small one.
Actually, Jacoby was the only one yelling. "Like hell I'm gonna take ye to Corwell! I may be brave, but I'm not suicidal. Tha' place be cursed. I'll not go near it, nor will me crew. I'll drop ye in Vertin. Tha's in Valdemar."
Mortimer's voice was smooth as silk. "I don't need you or your crew in order to bring this ship into port. Do you really want to leave the girl unprotected?"
"Are ye threatenin' me? Bad move, mate." He slugged Mortimer a good one in the stomach, followed by a blow to the head. Mortimer was too shocked by the attack to do anything about it. "On me ship, yer under me jurisdiction, savvy? Tha' means I can kill ye an' never face any consequences."
Those who cross me never prosper. Those who threaten end up dead.
Except it was Falconsbane—Mortimer—who spoke those lines. Not Jacoby.
Power flowed into Mortimer. He was preparing for a strike—one that would kill the unprotected pirate captain.
Well, this wasn't the opportune moment, but it was as close as I was going to get.
Said Pirate Bill to Squidly, "It's a damn fine day to die."
"Jacoby! Get out of the way!"
"Go below, songbird. This doesn't concern ye."
"Like hell it doesn't. If you value your life, get off this damn deck! He's a mage. He could kill you just by looking at you."
"The bilge rat is threatenin' to take me ship. I can't let that pass."
"He's threatening to take your life! Now go below."
"An' what are ye goin' to do? Ye think ye can defeat 'im? Or do ye suggest I surrender?"
"I'm a Herald of Valdemar. I know how to take care of myself. You can throw me in the brig after I've killed Mortimer."
Jacoby froze in shock. No, not his precious songbird. I couldn't be a Herald.
He wasn't about to go below. "Get down there! Now!" I snapped, using the Voice of Command. "Get everyone to safety. Clear the decks!"
It was enough to spur Jacoby into action. Within seconds the deck was clear of all but myself and Mortimer. Mortimer faced me with a self-satisfied smirk. "A Herald? How droll. Is that all they could send against me? You won't even be a challenge. I saw to that years ago."
Oh, really? You may have killed every Herald-Mage alive at that time, but that doesn't mean there aren't any of us now. "Unfortunately Vanyel proved too tough for you, didn't he—Leareth? Or should I just call you Ma'ar?"
"Perceptive, aren't you?"
"Perceptive—and powerful." I began to gather my own power. I couldn't draw on the nodes, nor on any of the larger ley-lines, but I did manage to drain a few smaller ones.
Mortimer's eyes widened. "No—it's not possible." Was that fear I detected in his voice?
"Not probable," I corrected.
"Perhaps—perhaps you could join my empire. Rule by my side, as my queen. Together we would rule the world."
Oh, come on. Talk about cliché. And is he trying to seduce me?
:In case you hadn't noticed, he absolutely reeks of sex appeal: Lyrna told me.
Oh. Well, then, lucky for me, my hormones had decided to shut down again. He was beautiful—in an abstract sort of way. In the flesh, he had absolutely nothing on Captain Jacoby.
:I do believe you've gone and fallen in love.:
:Have not:
:Oh, and Mortimer awaits your response.:
Right. "I don't think so, mister. Futue te ipsum et caballum tuum. I only conquer planets for my evil twin."
He drew himself up to his full, less-than-imposing height. He was only about an inch taller than me. And even I could glare better than that. "Then prepare to die. Nothing on Velgarth can stop me now."
"On or of?" I asked—partly out of curiosity, and partly just to be a nuisance. "Because you know, there's a difference. Grammatically, at least." And, in this case, in meaning, as well. "Spiritually. Ecumenically."
"Shut up, wench."
"I have a name. It's Herald Kali. Herald Death."
"How nice."
He launched an attack at me. I deflected his levinbolt, but the scar on my hand tingled slightly. I returned an attack of my own—my friends the Vrondi to distract him, plus some other-planar demon-cat to tear him to bits. It failed.
The fight continued.
I was getting power from—somewhere. I wasn't sure exactly where. Not a node, because all the nodes in this lake were far too large, too powerful for me to hope to handle. Even the ley-lines were turbulent beyond my capabilities of control. The ones I had used before were all drained. This place was a power-sink—left over from the Mage Wars—and I couldn't tap any of it. But I was gaining power.
A lifebond? The thought flashed briefly across my mind. Then—No. It can't be. Even when Tylendel made that Gate, he used Vanyel's power directly. It didn't go through him first. And besides, me? Lifebonded? In my dreams.
Speaking of dreams….
Since coming to Evendim, I hadn't had any dreams. Well, beyond the normal insane caterwauling of my unconscious mind. No ships. No pirates. No dream-sex.
Oh, it doesn't matter. One pirate in my life is one too many. It's just as well I've never had a chance to tell the other I'm here. Two pirates would be more than I could handle.
Maybe after I got rid of Mortimer—if I was still alive and if I was in any shape to do anything other than spend the next several months recovering. And if Jacoby didn't lock me up for all eternity.
At this point, death was looking like the most viable option.
My shields were losing integrity fast. I wasn't going to last much longer, even with my unexpected power source.
"I ask again: on Velgarth or of Velgarth? Which one is it, Mortimer?"
"Why does it make a difference?"
"Because if it's of Velgarth, and I suspect it is, you are going to die. You're dealing with America here. The good ol' US of A. And we don't take kindly to tyrants."
Fear showed in his eyes. Desperately he cast another levinbolt at me. My response was a hammer of pure power. But—if what he said was true—the magic I was using was of Velgarth. I wasn't of Velgarth, but my weapons were. Except—my sword. I still carried the same sword as I'd had when I first arrived, out of misguided sentimentality. But now—perhaps my soft heart had served me well.
Another presence intruded upon my awareness. Jacoby. Bezód té zandramas! Can't he ever do what he's told?
:A sword in the stomach kills almost as fast as a knife in the back: Lyrna suggested.
Of course. But I couldn't let him know what I was doing. So—to disguise my movements. A fog bank would do nicely. But I didn't know how to conjure one. That was weather-magic, and entirely beyond my league. But I did know someone who could. :Stormwind! Some help, please.:
:What on Velgarth do you think you're doing: It was Stormwind, all right. Younger than me and still thought he knew everything. Typical teenager. Well, tweenager. Actually, I suppose I was technically in my tweens as well. But I was much more mature than my yearmates. None of them had faced death at the hands of a Karsite Sun-Priest. An experience like that made one reexamine one's priorities in life.
:Taking on Mortimer; what does it look like I'm doing? I need a fog bank, so I can sneak up on him and stick him with my sword.:
:You're an idiot.:
:Thanks, Stormwind.:
The air around us thickened.
"Stormwind!" Mortimer cursed. "How dare he interfere?"
"Oh, Stormwind dares a lot of things."
The dampness turned to fog, obscuring the vision. Even sound was dampened. But I knew where Mortimer had been when the fog first began to appear. And I could tell where the attempts to dissipate the fog were originating. As silently as possible, I drew my sword. Closer and closer I crept.
Now he should be right in front of me. Blind and deaf, I thrust forward with my sword. A scream rent the air.
With the last of my power, I contacted Stormwind, to ask him to dismiss the fog.
As the mist cleared, I saw that Mortimer was not, in fact, dead. He stared in disbelief at the sword sticking out of his gut. "No—it's not possible—."
"Not probable," I corrected. "I am not of Velgarth, and neither is this sword. You got your preposition wrong, didn't you."
"Damn you. Damn you to the lowest hells. I could have been a king, and you had to ruin it." Once more he began to gather power. Whatever he was planning, I was helpless to deflect. "I'm not going to die alone."
Revenge. He could get it, too. He had enough power left to kill me, then use the power released by his own death to launch himself to his sanctuary. Enough power and enough time. Two things that Falconsbane would lack.
As for myself, I had nothing. No reserves. I wasn't going to make it. And even though I knew where he was going, I daren't follow him to kill him once and for all. No Falconsbane meant no An'desha to help against the Mage Storms, meant Valdemar was screwed. Especially Lake Evendim and the surrounding area. Which meant, most likely, Jacoby's descendants would be wiped out. And that was assuming I could actually accomplish something, which was a major stretch, even if I'd been in prime condition.
I prepared myself for death.
Strangely, it didn't come.
There was a sudden release of power. Someone had just died. I opened my eyes to find Mortimer slumped forward. A knife protruded from his back. A knife with an eagle hilt. It was my knife, the one I'd given to Jacoby. My eyes lifted higher. There was Jacoby himself, staring at the dead mage like he expected him to come back to life. The pirate captain looked far weaker than the simple act of sticking a knife in Mortimer's back would explain.
"It's okay," I assured him wearily. "He's dead." For now, at least. But there's no chance of this body ever hosting his spirit again. And he's not going to be reincarnated anytime in our lifetimes. As a final attempt at humor, I add, "Congratulations, Captain. You have assisted in the capture of a dangerous fugitive. And guess what?"
"What?"
"Remember when I said I knew this plot? Well, we're still following it. The white knight just saved the damsel in distress." And it's about time for the "boy loses girl" part to happen. Unfortunately.
"Some knight—an' some damsel," he muttered.
The crewmen slowly returned to deck.
"It's safe now," I assured them. "The wizard is dead."
"Is it?" a one-eyed pirate demanded accusatorily. "Be it safe, Herald?"
"You can trust me or not, as you choose. I haven't the strength to hurt you now." In fact, I didn't even have the strength to stand. Nor did Jacoby, for that matter. He seemed almost as exhausted as I was. We collapsed against each other, ending up on the deck. He managed to push himself up to a sitting position, and cradled my head on his lap.
"Stay away, men," Jacoby ordered. They didn't need much encouragement. Without my shields, I could feel the fear and loathing radiating off them.
"Throw 'er overboard," one suggested. I'd never gotten a chance to learn his name. Oh, we'd been introduced, but I never was very good at remembering names.
"Aye," another agreed. Didn't know his name, either. "Them 'Eralds 'ave caused us trouble in the past. This'un be nothin' but one o' their spies. Come to catch us. Get rid of 'er afore she turns us in."
Jimmy, bless his young heart, positioned himself between me and the other pirates. "She saved our lives. Yet ye'd repay 'er with death. Go to hell."
In the end, they called a vote on it. Their final decision was to lock me in the brig until they could think of something better to do with me.
Well, at least I wasn't dead.
Nawyn: I had Jacoby slug Mortimer a couple times just for you. And in the rewrite I'm going to cuss him out in Latin and Greek. Happy?
"Accusatorily" is actually a word. I'm surprised.