If I Were a Herald

Chapter 34

In the Brig

Disclaimer: My aunt's the lawyer, and my mother's the judge. Do you still want to dispute my claim to all things Misty? No? Good answer.

A/N (12/16/05): I was kind of wondering what to call this chapter (because, you know, I don't know any songs that are really appropriate, except maybe Johnny Cash's "Fulsome Prison Blues"), and then, it just came to me. An epiphany. Naturally it had to be called "In the Brig." And naturally I had to write the song myself. Actually it's a parody of "On the Bridge," from the Owlflight cd. The tune was just perfect. Sort of sad and haunting.

A/N (12/17/05): Try to spot the hidden line from a Viggo Mortensen movie. I'll give you a hint: I've only seen four. LotR and Hidalgo.

A/N (12/17/05): Obviously I've been filling my head with too many sappy romances. It's beginning to come out in my writing. Please tell me if it gets to be too much.

A/N (12/17/05): I love all my reviewers. Cyber-Rum for everyone!

A/N (12/18/05): The books King of the Pirates and Once a Pirate have the same cover. If you don't believe me, look it up. It really freaked me out, because I now have both books.

Nawyn: She does procrastinate overmuch, doesn't she? You're very welcome for the punch. In the rewrite I may try for a boot up his ass. I do actually have a pair of pants with an arrow pointing to the heel and the words "Insert Ass Here." Oh, and I've decided that the Sun-Priest is still alive. So you go beat the crap out of him, then kill him, okay?

Fireblade K'Chona: I have indeed seen the PotC trailer. I became dehydrated from all the drooling I did. Unfortunately I missed PotC in theaters the first go around, because I was stuck on reading books and couldn't be bothered to go watch something as droll as a movie, unless it was LotR or HP. I am forever grateful to Orlando Bloom for getting that tattoo, because that's the only reason I wanted to watch PotC. Did I mention that I absolutely love Captain Jack Sparrow? note to self: must go see another movie so as to rewatch PotC trailer. Oh, and when I get around to writing that story about Stormwind, you could be in it if you wanted.

Blood-Covered-Ivory: Ah, it's all beginning to make sense. Your manager listens to country. And here I was hoping I'd found a fellow country fan. Ah well. And I won't hate you for not reviewing then. I'm just glad you finally came out of the woodwork—and appear to be staying out of the woodwork.

Jerry Unipeg: Yeah, survival is the hard part now.

Jay: Even though you haven't reviewed in a while (am I going to have to track you down? Remember, I know where you live), I have a response to one of your earlier reviews. Your professional opinion? That I look good in white? This from the guy who can't tell fashion from folly. I am definitely going to have to knock you over the head and drag you home with me, then hand you over to Jill so that she can (maybe) do something about your appalling lack of fashion sense.

Piracy is thrilling when you're out upon that sea.
Piracy is willing when that's all you'll ever be.
Secrets at a distance are secrets in the night.
Secrets from a loved one are not right.
And a Herald in the lock-up is not right,
In the brig.

Piracy is costly, and some must pay the cost.
Lines are made for crossing, but some you must not cross.
Locked up with your mateys gives you courage to be free.
Locked up in the brig, it's only me.
And the only one whom I can blame is me,
In the brig.

In the brig—
Where life is short but moments stretch so long;
In the brig—
I can't go back; I know I can't go on.

Heroes are remembered; long they march in glory's train.
Heroes drink a lot of wine to drown remembered pain.
A mage should have the power to free herself from fear.
When power goes, then nothing seems quite clear.
In the lock-up now, there's nothing to be clear,
In the brig.

Dreams can be quite telling, if you listen to your heart.
Love for him is swelling if I just knew where to start.
In amongst the magic something magical has grown.
Now's the time to strike out on my own.
I'm never going to make it on my own,
In the brig.

In the brig—
Where life is short but moments stretch so long;
In the brig—
I can't go back; I know I can't go on,
In the brig.

"A mage should have the power to free herself from fear. When power goes, then nothing seems quite clear." I broke off the song when noises from above alerted me that I was about to have company. The single guard they'd placed on my cell didn't count. It was Kent, and besides now being in awe of the fact that I wasn't just a lady, I was a Herald, he genuinely liked my singing. He'd even fetched me my journal and pen so that I could write down the lyrics to my latest song. It was, admittedly, a parody, but the tune just fit. Sad and haunting. It suited the atmosphere perfectly.

It wasn't like I had anything better to do than write moody songs. The worst part about lock-up was the boredom. That was even worse than the loneliness. I could ignore loneliness; I'd been alone most of my life. For a while I'd even convinced myself that I preferred it that way. I'd been wrong, but it wasn't too hard to conjure up those memories. Besides, I had Lyrna. So the loneliness wasn't too bad.

Except at night. I'd spent two nights in the brig, the long hours stretching out with no hint of reprieve. Long, lonely nights, with nothing to comfort me but the cold, hard presence of my journal and pen. At those times Lyrna just wouldn't do. I needed a solid human being to give me warmth and love. I missed my dream pirate, and I missed Jacoby. Sometimes, in the cold, lonely hours before dawn, I would wonder whether my dream pirate was Jacoby. But that was just too ridiculous to be considered.

Still, the signs were there. That recognition of him, the first time I'd seen him. The fact that he called me "songbird." A dozen other small details that came together like pieces of a puzzle. It was just so unlikely. So improbable.

Just like a thousand other things that had happened to me over the years.

They'd taken my knives. All of them. Jacoby knew where they all were, and he'd threatened to undress me himself if I didn't hand them over. The lockpicks, too. Then he'd left me alone, to face the emptiness of my soul. Two days and I was going nearly out of my mind with the sheer boredom of it all.

Bored, that's what I was. Bored and tired and lonely. And afraid. Afraid of what these pirates might do to me—a Herald, the enemy—and I'd be powerless to resist. I had no reserves left. Nothing. And I couldn't tap into any of the ley-lines. The ones in our vicinity were all beyond my capabilities. The little energy flows that I could tap were too small to make a difference. They seemed to go right through me without leaving a trace.

But most of all, I was bored. There was nothing to do here. Nothing to write, no inspiration other than my unadulterated misery. Even Lyrna couldn't lift my spirits above the level of my knees.

"Songbird."

Even before I looked at him, the voice—and the beating of my traitorous heart—told me who'd come.

Jacoby.

"Captain."

He looked betrayed. Like I'd wormed my way past his defenses, then stabbed him in the back. From the vibes I was getting from him, on a level deeper than Empathy, I may as well have done just that. Oh, what a mess I'd made of things.

For a while he just stood there, looking like sin personified. Ye gods above, he had no right to be so damned hot. Especially not now. Not when he was forever out of my reach. I should have seduced him when I had the chance. At least then I'd have more memories than mere kisses to get me through this.

:Finally you've seen the light.: Lyrna's MindVoice caused me to smile. After all this, I could still count on one thing to hold true: Lyrna was going to play matchmaker. :Better late than never.:

"This was yer secret, wasn't it? Herald. Ye never really wanted me, did ye? Ye were prolly laughin' up yer sleeve the 'ole time. Oh, look, a pirate ship. If I can fool the captain long enough, I can bring them all to justice."

His accusations hurt, more than I cared to admit. It wasn't the words so much as the fact that he was making them. Oh yeah? You were the one chasing me, as I recall. I wanted to be a pirate, you son of a bitch. My first crush was on a thief. "It had nothing to do with you. I was tracking Mortimer. He was a menace to all free people of Velgarth. He would have killed you for the power your deaths would bring him. I saved your lives. Are you familiar with the concept of blood magic?"

"Aye. I prolly know more about it than ye."

"You're wrong about that. I know more about it than anyone from Valdemar."

"Are ye not yerself from Valdemar?"

"No. Like I told Mortimer, I'm not from Velgarth at all. Actually, I'm from Florida, and this place is bloody cold." A shiver emphasized my point. "Anyhoo, Mortimer used blood magic, and he had to be stopped."

"An' ye wanted to be the hero. Ye just had to be the one to stop 'im, didn't ye?"

"I was the only one who could stop him. I saved your life, and the lives of your crew. The least you could do is pretend to be grateful."

"Ye saved us, aye. Tha's the on'y reason yer not hangin' from the yardarm. Punishment is at the captain's discretion—"

"I read the damn articles," I interrupted. "Punishment is up to the captain, aye, but I haven't done anything wrong." Well, fighting on board ship, technically, but he couldn't very well have asked us to take it to land. Mortimer would never have listened to such a request.

"Yer a Herald. Ye tricked me. Yer not the girl I thought ye were."

"But I am. You got to see the true side of me, the part not wrapped up in duty and doing what's right. I'm so bloody tired of doing what's right."

"Oh, tha's a nice line. Feed it to someone else."

"Jacoby, please."

"Please what?"

Please, I don't want to fight. Please, I just want to be in your arms. In your head. In your heart.

:Oh, just go ahead and seduce him already: Lyrna snapped.

I wrapped my hands around the bars of the cell and pressed my face against an opening. "Please, I want you to kiss me."

:Not exactly what I had in mind.:

:Shut up, horse.:

"What be ye plottin'?" Jacoby asked suspiciously.

"Nothing at all. My horse likes you."

"Ye mean the demon-horse a Herald rides?"

:Will you tell him I'm not a bloody demon: She continued with a few phrases I hadn't even known existed. I made a note to ask her what they meant.

:Watch your language, horseface.: "Lyrna says she's not a demon. Between you and me, I'm not so sure."

:If I could get my hooves on you—:

:I love you, too, Lyrna.:

"Why did ye have to be a Herald?" Now his voice was plaintive.

"Bad luck?" I suggested. "I really wanted to be a bard. Why did you have to be a pirate? If you'd just been born in Haven, you wouldn't have this irrational prejudice against Heralds. Why, look at me. I'm a Herald, and I have nothing at all against pirates. I think you're all wonderful people—and most of you should be condemned to the lowest hells."

"Ye would try a saint."

I grinned and raised my eyebrows. "One does one's best."

"Don't smile at me like that," he warned. "It makes me want to kiss the smirk right off yer face."

So he wasn't as immune to me as he might like to think. That would explain some of his anger. Some, but not all. The rest could be explained by what he viewed as my betrayal. We had gotten rather close, and I had allowed it, knowing it was a lie, knowing it couldn't last. Secrets from a loved one are not right. "I dare you to try."

I expected him to kiss me through the bars of the cell. That would have been sweet, romantic.

There are times when I doubt Jacoby has a romantic bone in his body.

"Kent. Open the door." His voice held an unmistakable note of command, not at all masked by its gruff quality.

The poor sailor obeyed with alacrity. He shut the door behind the captain, but didn't lock it. The day a hundred-thirty-pound lass could overpower Jacoby would be the day he quite pirating. (He conveniently forgot all the times I'd fended off his earlier advances.) Kent then wisely removed himself to a remote location.

That left me alone with Jacoby and the pounding of my heart. This was what I wanted, right? I could overpower him if I wanted. I had, at least, recovered my physical strength over the last two days.

So had Jacoby. He was in much better shape than I was. But then, he'd been able to sleep on a real bed. And he hadn't drained himself to the quick of psychic energy. Of course he would recover faster.

He took a step toward me. I took a step back. No, I wasn't ready for this. Whatever was going to happen, I wasn't ready.

I laugh in the face of destiny.

The thought was enough to recall the smile that had slipped from my lips. If anything, Jacoby's prowl became more dangerous. "I warned ye."

His proximity was doing strange things to my anatomy. And my temperature. That was quickly going through the roof. He just wants my body. He doesn't care about me. The thought didn't help at all. The fact that he wanted my body enough to ignore the fact that I was a Herald just made me fall for him a little more. Even six years of being pursued wasn't enough to erase the torment of my formative years, when I was considered the only girl in the school not worth the effort of pursuit. It hadn't helped that the guy I'd liked was really dense. Brilliant, but dense.

The only consolation I could take now was that my proximity was wreaking havoc with Jacoby's equilibrium, as well. I glanced down and swallowed convulsively. Oh yeah. Hell yeah. My grin widened.

Fear didn't have a place here. There was just him and me, and the gradually closing distance between us. It was all I could do not to fling myself upon him, wrap my arms around his neck, and kiss him like there was no tomorrow. But this was his show. He was the one calling the shots. I would just have to wait.

I didn't have to wait long. As soon as he had me backed against the wall, he bridged the gap, capturing my lips with his. He imprinted himself upon my body. My heart. My soul.

I wrapped my arms around his broad chest. One of my hands curled around a dagger he kept in his belt. As discreetly as possible, I worked it out, then stuck it into the waist of my pants, so that my shirt would cover the hilt. Then I was free to enjoy the kiss.

An unwelcome presence intruded itself upon my awareness. Kent. "Captain, yer needed on deck."

Swearing, Jacoby broke away from me.

"Bloody hell," I said irritably. "Ya coulda picked a better time."

Jacoby didn't even look at me as he stormed away. He left the cell door open for Kent to close and lock. It would have been a perfect opportunity for me to escape. But then what? Even if I could have moved, there was nowhere for me to go. What was I going to do, swim all the way to Valdemar? Yeah, right.

And now Jacoby was angry. At me. And I had no idea why.

I could almost see Lyrna raise her eyebrows in amusement. Come to think of it, I wasn't even sure if she had eyebrows. :He's just upset at himself for his lack of control. He'll come around soon.:

:Yeah, sure. And I'm the Queen of England.:

:In that case, congratulations on your coronation. Seriously, dear, for an Empath, you are sadly neglectful when it comes to reading people.:

Turns out Lyrna was right.

I spent the night without seeing the captain. Sleep came easier with the comforting presence of the dagger at my side. I wasn't quite sure what I planned to do with it—but at least I knew that if one of the pirates came down to the brig, planning on administering some vigilante justice, I'd be able to fight him off without having to resort to using my nonexistent reserves of magic. I was still gathering power whenever I could, and now I had maybe enough to light a candle. At least now the trickle of power seemed to be staying within me rather than melting out to some unknown destination.

Morning—I woke to the sounds of renewed activity on deck. Forget sunlight; there wasn't so much as a peephole in the brig, and Jacoby took good care of the ship, so no light streaming in through the cracks, either. There were no cracks. They were all caulked tight.

Sleep still fogged my eyes when Kent opened the door to my cell. The hair-triggeredness of the previous nights reasserted itself with full force. I had the dagger out and ready to throw before I was able to stop myself. By then it was too late. Not for Kent, but for me.

I dropped the knife as if it were a poisonous snake. Actually, I wouldn't have dropped a poisonous snake, but that's beside the point. Hopefully I wouldn't have been holding a poisonous snake in the first place.

Kent leapt away. Oh, yeah. He'd risk being in the same room as the dangerous Herald and her magic, but give her a knife—which she promptly drops—and he was outta there.

Then another presence—intruded isn't the right word, because it felt like he belonged—made itself known.

Jacoby, just in case you couldn't guess.

Oh, yes. Dear, sweet Jacoby. At the moment looking madder than a horned toad. "What treachery were ye plottin', Herald?"

"Huh?" I queried intelligently. My brain hadn't quite woken up with the rest of me. The eyes were clear, though. That was an improvement over a few seconds ago.

He stooped in the cell to pick up the discarded knife. "This. It be mine, don't it? Ye stole it."

"Borrowed," I corrected automatically. "Borrowed without permission, but with every intention of giving it back to you."

"Oh?"

"A pirate said it, once."

"Why the sudden need for a knife?"

"Uh, protection. Duh. You guys don't trust me, I don't trust you. We're one big, unhappy, backstabbing family. I haven't been sleeping well, and it helped."

"Ye tried to kill Kent."

"Yeah, okay, I'm sorry. I've been on duty, it's pretty tough on the system. Have to be ready for anything, even if I'm asleep. Made a mistake, once—got me into a Karsite torture-chamber. Not an experience I want to repeat. You're just lucky I haven't actually been stationed on the Karsite border—though no doubt that's where they'll put me next."

"Did ye say, Karsite torture-chamber?"

"Yeah. Got caught by one of there Sun-Priests. Nasty fellow. I never did get a chance to go back and finish him off. Some pirate—." I closed my mouth on the unlikely conclusion to that sentence. Some pirate rescued me.

Without warning, Jacoby took hold of my right hand. He turned it over and studied the silver scar that was still there, even after a year. My other scars had healed (discounting the old bee sting), but that one refused to go away. "Ye do be her," he breathed.

"Who?" I demanded; but instead of answering, he kissed me, long and hard. My knees turned to spaghetti, and the rest of me was quickly melting into a pool of sauce. At least, that was the image conjured up by my frazzled mind.

He kept my hands penned—presumably so I couldn't "borrow" another knife. It hurt that he didn't trust me. I wouldn't hurt him. I couldn't hurt him. I cared too much.

And he wouldn't hurt me. His grip on my wrists was light. Had I a mind to, I could have freed my hands and turned him to mincemeat. And my legs were already free.

Maybe he did trust me. Just a little.

This time, when we parted, it was as—maybe not friends, but definitely not enemies. No, not enemies at all.

Um, yeah. So there it is. As always, criticism is welcome. It may be a blow to my ego, but there are times when I desperately need that blow. Yeah. So review!