Chapter Summary: On a ship taken by Captain Tusktooth, Nott is discovered as a stowaway, and Caleb bargains for her safety.
Chapter Eight:
At Sea (ft. Fjord)
Fjord stood on the quarterdeck of The Mistake and watched his people move onto the surrendered ship. He could taste the salt on his lips as he surveyed his prize. The chase had taken the better part of the morning, but now here she sat, just off their stern – The Imperial Coin – a fat merchant vessel that had strayed into their path just as dawn sketched the horizon line.
With their painted-over gun ports and crowded deck, barely manned except by passengers and hapless merchant sailors, it had almost been too easy. He could see it in their body language as they were lined up and accounted for; these people were afraid. They'd just been taken by privateers, and that was a fate of unknowns. At best, it meant financial catastrophe. At worst it meant enslavement or death.
Fjord made a sound like a laugh as he stepped onto the lower deck. As he if would want any of these soft-bellied merchants on his ship. And as for hurling people haphazardly to their death…
"Captain."
It was Gallan. The man had come a long way since Fjord took him on. He'd shaped up to be a fine boatswain, and judging by the buoyant look on his face, he had good news to share.
"What's the score?" Fjord asked.
"To start with, enough lumber, sailcloth, and cordage to keep us for some time," Gallan reported with satisfaction, as well he should considering the ship's upkeep was largely his responsibility. "Also several dozen barrels of fresh salted pork, three dozen of peas, two hundred and fifty pounds of butter, four thousand of flour –"
"Gallan, Gallan," he interrupted. "Not that Marius won't be thrilled to hear about ship stores, but I'd prefer you cut to the chase, here."
"Right. Cargo is still being bought up, but it looks like a mixed bag. Textiles, spices, and," here he paused meaningfully, "a large shipment of those new weapons, the handheld firearms."
Fjord let out a breath. It was by far the most profitable prospect, and he didn't deny a kind of mercenary thrill heating his stomach at the thought of the coin he could get if he moved them, but there was also uneasiness. He'd seen what those weapons could do. In some ways, they were more insidious than cannons. Canons were heavy, not easily transportable over land, and required a skilled operator. These new weapons were small and portable, and even the most mean of intelligence could use them to tear ragged, mortal wounds in an enemy. He'd seen it happen. Hell, he'd been on the receiving end. He rubbed the scar over his bicep, remembering.
"Anything else?"
Gallan knew what he meant, and cleared his throat carefully. "They're searching. Do you want to talk to the captain now?"
"Yeah," Fjord said, straightening his shoulders and pulling the muscles of his face tight. Assuming the mask of a fearsome pirate captain, one who would as soon gut you as look at you. He stepped across.
The captain of The Imperial Coin was a paunchy dwarf. His beard was braided, setting off a stubborn mouth that Fjord already knew he wasn't going to like. The dwarf's eyebrows were like tangled bolts of lightning, and his cheeks and brow were flushed with outrage. He balked slightly when Fjord leapt onto the deck, cutting an impressive figure with his green skin and muscles bulging, unobscured by the tooled leather armor he wore. Yet this dwarf drew himself up like a man ready to fight.
Stupid. Fjord had all the power here.
"So," said Fjord, approaching with deliberate steps. "Now that The Imperial Coin is under my command, I'd like to know the name of her former captain."
The dwarf went purple beneath his beard. "My name is Brotter Ungart, and if you think you and your crew can get away with commandeering the goods of a ship sailing under the Dwendalian Empire's charter, then –"
Fjord laughed into the face of the wind, which caught the scarlet tassels on his armor and whipped them like snake heads. The spray of the ocean hissed against the hull, and Fjord said, "I have news for you, Captain Ungart. These are the wilds of the world, and not just any wilds. There are four hundred and fifty miles between you and the nearest crownsguard. You think they have any bearing on what I do with your charter or your packet? Do you think they have any bearing on what I do to you?"
The man's mouth, which had been poised to speak, snapped shut. And, ah, there it was. The appropriate level of fear.
"What do you want?" Ungart grunted.
"The usual," Fjord said. "As much of your cargo as we desire, plus any treasure you might be carrying." He held out his hand, feeling a tingle of magic as his falchion hung, just out of reach in whatever dimension it existed when it wasn't in his hand. "Are you carrying any treasure, Ungart? Perhaps a chest under some false paneling in your cabin? A coded message secreted in a barrel of flour? If so, my people will find it. But it will go better for you if you tell me before I have to tear your ship out from under you in order to be sure."
The dwarf swallowed, his brow wrinkled.
While he considered his answer, Fjord surveyed the other prisoners. There were the ship hands crowded into the bow. Their eyes were flicking nervously toward the colors flapping on The Mistake's mast. It was a slash interrupted by a thrusting tusk set against a field of emerald. As men of the sea, they wouldn't be so ignorant of its meaning, and Fjord expected no trouble from any of them. The officers were lined up, slouched and miserable looking. Fjord ticked them off one by one. Nothing of interest there.
He was about to turn back to Ungart and make his final press when there was a commotion from below. Shouting, the sound of blows. Then Boldergut emerged, hauling a resisting prisoner. She lifted her captive out of the hold with a grip under one armpit and cast him onto the deck. "Tiny man…hiding," she explained after her usual succinct fashion. She rubbed a shiny looking burn on her arm. "Fire hands."
A mage, on board this ship? Curious, Fjord stepped forward to study this new curiosity. The man was sprawled on his belly where Boldergut had thrown him, and Fjord could see he hadn't come easily. One side of his face looked bashed in, though Fjord noticed a sharp blue eye beneath the contusion, darting around to take in the situation.
Orly followed Boldergut up from below, his reptilian brow knitted. "Captain," he said, knuckling his forehead.
Fjord nodded acknowledgement. "He was hiding?"
"Aye. We found him lurking around a set of netted crates. When we tried to move 'em, he tried to…eh, suggest Boldergut leave 'em where they was. Mighta worked, but I don't think he, uh, rightly saw me. I gave her a friendly little jab to help her shake it off."
Boldergut showed her teeth, and it was impossible to determine whether it was intended as a grimace or a smile. "Stabbed me."
"Just, uh, a little stab," the tortle said, jaw askew as he huffed a kind of hissing chuckle that made the pipes on his back wheeze. "After that's when he started fighting. Really didn't want us, uh, moving those crates."
Fjord glanced back at Ungart to gage his reaction, but there was no shiftiness or concern, just blank stupidity and may be a little contempt. Fjord glanced at the prone man. "Stand him up."
He was human with an underfed look that Marius would grieve to see. Greasy hair hung in his face, and though the man declined eye contact, Fjord could still see the intelligence in him. Moreover, there was a smolder, a stubbornness. He was in their power and he knew it, but he hadn't resigned himself. This was a man who would fight, given the right incentive. Fjord wondered what might set him off.
Fjord turned to Ungart. "Who's this?"
The dwarf sneered. "That? Human garbage. He begged me to sign him on, indentured-like, and get him away from the empire, even though he had about four and a half coppers to his name and didn't have none of the right paperwork. But we were shorthanded, and there's always scut work. Which is about all he's good for, aside from making trouble. He's a fire starter. Comes barking out of dreams with his hands hot as tar. Caught a hammock once, and I practically threw him overboard. If he weren't a damn sight better at fixing our position than a bloody sexant, I would have."
Orly perked up, the navigator in him clearly intrigued. "Fixing position?"
Ungart glared at the human hanging in Boldergut's grip. "Sure. Point him at the stars or the sun, or, hell, blindfold him and spin him around in a circle. He always knows north. Like he swallowed a compass or something. And he never forgets a single line on a map."
Fjord looked thoughtfully at the captive, who was staring at the deck. "That's quite a gift."
Ungart laughed. "It's hardly been worth it. Caught him steeling food outside of Port Zoon. You'd have thought a sound flogging would teach him, but he's done it three more times."
It was a serious charge. On board ship, stealing rations was a capital offense. Fjord lifted the edge of the man's shirt, and, sure enough, his back was a latticework of marks, both old and new. And it wasn't just his back that looked whipped. The smolder was starting to make more sense.
"Is that he reason you were fleeing the empire?" Fjord asked. "Because you're a thief?"
When the man didn't respond, Boldergut jerked his shoulder. "Answer!" she demanded, but he remained mulishly silent.
"I wouldn't bother," muttered one of The Coin's mates. "He might have a compass for a brain, but he's brute stupid and practically only speaks foreign."
Ungart, though, seemed to sense a possibility. "Look, if you want his contract, you can have it. Shackle 'em around the ankle, maybe chop the ends off to keep him from casting – a compass don't need hands after all – and then, why, he's gold!"
Fjord didn't have to look at the rest of his crew to know they were scowling. And, sure, it was a bit disgusting that Ungart was so willing to give up a man to pirates if it served his own ends. Though perhaps it offered an opportunity.
Fjord leaned closer to the prisoner. "Do you know who I am?"
A slice of eye glanced off his before sliding away. The man's head jerked back and forth, a denial.
"I'm Captain Tusktooth, master of these waters. Your former captain is apparently too stupid to understand what that means, but despite what they say, I don't think you're stupid."
Still no answer, but Fjord could tell by the rigidity in his shoulders that he was listening.
"I'm going to assume you hid because you were aware the ship was being boarded by pirates," Fjord said. "And, sure, I'll give you that. But attacking my people, knowing who they were. Over some cargo you don't even own, for this bastard who obviously doesn't give a damn about you. Now that," he said. "I would like to understand."
As it happened, a few of his hands were bringing up said cargo. First one crate, then another. The prisoner watched with razor-like intensity as they were stacked on the deck. Whether or not Ungart had anything of special value on this ship, it was clear something he treasured was inside those boxes.
"Open them up."
Boldergut repeated the order, and the hands rushed to obey.
Iron defanged nail, and lids started yielding their contents. One proved particularly stubborn, and Boldergut went over the help, forcing the wood with a movement that made it crackle and snap before it gave, spilling its contents onto the deck. At first, all Fjord could see was oakum and packing straw. Then, up out of the pile, a figure emerged. It raised its arms, shielding its eyes from the blinding sun, and then it made a tense cry like a rat cornered by a hungry deckhand.
Boldergut snarled, "Goblin!" and shot forward to apprehend the creature, but a flash of iron dragged across her hand. She roared with pain while her quarry fled – though, of course, being on a ship, she had almost nowhere to go. She ended up on top of the railing, hissing and panting and casting fearful looks at the ocean below. Boldergut, her teeth bared, approached with club ready.
That's when the human murmured a few frantic words, and his hands, which were bound, burst into flames. It brought immediate panic, everyone drawing back and shouting, but the man only stood there, his teeth gritted, while the fire chewed through the rope. Fjord could see from the sweat on his face that he wasn't unaffected, but it wasn't until the cord snapped that he smothered the fire snaking up his own arms and turned toward the railing.
He loosed two firebolts at once, both of which struck Boldergut on the shoulder. She turned, her face twisted with rage. "Fire hands!"
The man held his hands out again, his palms blackening, but Fjord didn't give him another chance. He stepped into the mist, and when he stepped out of it, he was directly beside the mage. The man's eyes flew open in surprise, and then he was wrapped in Fjord's arms, held roughly against his chest. The falchion sang as Fjord drew it into existence, and he pressed it hard under the man's chin. A blistering heat began to build against his arm, so Fjord cut deep and heard the man strangle, blood making a sheet down his neck and chest.
Into his ear, Fjord growled, "Stand down, or the next cut I make will be something important."
"CALEB!"
The scream was proceeded by sudden, piercing pain, and Fjord came very close to taking the human's head clean off his shoulders. Instead, he froze. His captive was still secure, but there was a crossbow bolt sticking out of his arm. He looked over at the railing and saw the goblin perched there, a crossbow held in her hands.
"Let go of him," she shouted.
Fjord took stock of the situation. They had discovered a goblin inside of a crate, a crate which the man in his arms had been caught protecting. Twice. And now said goblin had fired on him, even though she was surrounded by foes and her only escape route was into the sea.
"You listen to me," he spoke to her. "I don't know what you're trying to do, but if you don't drop your weapon immediately, this man is going to find a lot more blood on the outside of his body." To make his point, he put a bit more pressure on his captive's trachea, enough to bite. He was hoping for a sound of pain, but the man had his lips between his teeth, and the most Fjord wrung from him was a choked moan.
It was enough to make the goblin's eyes stretch even wider than before. "D-don't hurt him," she stammered. Her grip had weakened.
"Then put that down before either of us do something we regret."
She let go of the crossbow. It clattered onto the deck, and the next moment, Boldergut had her by the neck. Angrily, the ogre held the tiny body over the water, making her squeak with terror, and the mage writhed, drawing more blood off Fjord's sword before he was able to adjust his grip.
"Boldergut," Fjord shouted. "Stop terrorizing her and bring her here."
The human was panting, eyes fluttering. Fjord could see the fear in him when Boldergut lumbered over. He and the goblin were staring at one another, trying to communicate with their eyes alone, and Fjord wondered what it was they had to say.
"I'm going to let you go," he said to the man. "But if you start throwing firebolts, Boldergut will snap her neck, you understand?"
Fjord released him. He stumbled, his blistered hand covering a wounded throat. Hoarsely, he said, "Don't hurt her."
Fjord opened his mouth to speak, but Ungart beat him to it. Practically spitting, he accused, "You. You hid that…that creature on my ship. You helped it stow away and kept it hidden. How dare you, after the way I took pity you on, you lying scoundrel!"
In response, the goblin snarled, "Don't talk to him like that! He hasn't done anything but protect me, and you've been treating him like garbage!"
Despite the tenseness of the situation, her verve elicited a few approving chuckles from The Mistake. Fjord sensed they were following the scene with interest. Their loyalty wasn't in question; he knew they would follow his lead, but there was a mood he wasn't certain he understood. Something in his chest moved, an echo of a voice.
LEARN.
Fjord breathed out, then faced the two prisoners who had dared do violence to his people. "You know, I don't care for stowaways," he said. He yanked the bolt out of his shoulder with a hiss. "Plus, that hurt. Really, I ought to let Boldergut here toss you both over the side and be done with this. But I admit, I'm curious. So? Care to fill in any of the details before I pass judgement?"
The man and the goblin looked at one other, and he could read their deliberation. Wherever this gambit had begun, it had been going on for a long time, and they'd both sacrificed a great deal for it. He felt sure their will to survive was enough to loosen their tongues, and he was right. The man turned toward Fjord.
"My name is Caleb Widogast, and this is Nott the Brave."
Fjord turned the names over in his mouth. "Strange names for strange companions."
"Perhaps not so strange as Captain Tusktooth," Caleb retorted.
The crew barked with laugher, and this time Fjord frowned. He didn't mind their jollity, but it was a bold move indeed for a prisoner. "Saucy words for a man on the edge of a knife," Fjord said.
Caleb swallowed, but didn't answer.
It was Orly who asked the next question. "You two don't look like the, uh, sailing type."
"We were leaving the empire," Nott said. "The war was starting, and it was dangerous. We kept getting stopped."
"We got over the border," Caleb added. "But with tensions so high, Nicodranas was just as dangerous. We needed distance. Once Capain Ungart agreed to take me on, Nott and I made preparations for her to hide in one of the shipping crates. We loosened some planks so she could get out when it was quiet. The rest of the time she hid."
Which explained the stealing. He would have been bringing her food. Possibly, they'd tried to manage with only Caleb's rations, but judging by the skin-and-bones state of both of them, it hadn't been enough. It was quite a story. The question was…did it matter?
Fjord considered the ship beneath his feet and his intentions. If it were just some merchant ship out of Port Demali, he might have let its captain ransom it, but even if this Ungart bastard did have some treasure or information worth his time, The Coin's connection with the empire soured his stomach. He would rather make an example of it than let it float free, no matter what its intrinsic worth. As for the men, well. He did have a reputation to keep. And interesting as these two were, they were really just a footnote.
He made his way back to the railing. The breeze stirred his fringe, and he wondered, 'Why do you hesitate?' He glanced at the crossbow bolt in his hand.
"Boldergut," he heard himself say. "Throw the goblin into the sea."
He felt it in his bones, the way the tide turned. As he spoke, the men and officers of The Imperial Coin stiffened, not because of the goblin's fate, but because it heralded their own. The first death sentence passed down. The men on his own ship tensed, too. They watched with grim faces that gave away no hint of their feelings, and not a few of them drew their weapons, ready to respond should any of the prisoners grow foolish in their fear.
Boldergut began to move to the side, unmindful of the goblin's panic. As she did, the remaining blood drained from Caleb. He went pale as a ghost under his freckles and stumbled toward Fjord. Fjord raised his falchion, but the man wasn't calling on his magic. His raised hand was a supplication. "Don't do this," he said. "She can't swim."
Fjord pierced the man with eyes as sharp as chips of mica. "I thought we established this. I am a pirate. Would you rather I cut her throat?"
"Spare her," he begged. "Please."
"Why?"
"Because she is my friend."
Fjord laughed. "A human, friends with a goblin?"
The sarcasm in his voice struck a nerve, because the anger was back. This time, though, Caleb held it in check. "Yes."
Fjord let his falchion disappear. Instead, he leaned into the man's personal space, letting his absolute authority, his complete control over the situation emanate from his skin. "And what will you do to convince me?"
"Anything," Caleb said without hesitation.
A murmur spread from the crew. Fjord ignored them. He reached out and put his hand on the man's neck. He was able to stretch his fingers almost entirely around it, to feel the tendons and even the jugular vein beating beneath the skin. He caressed it with his thumb. "Anything?" he challenged.
Fjord saw Caleb's thoughts stutter, running through all the things Fjord might ask. He saw, also, his resolve harden. He leaned his pulse point into Fjord's thumb, making his words even and clear. "Anything."
Fjord drew back, looked at his crew. They were smiling. Fierce, predatory smiles, but smiles all the same. Fjord laughed, a sound that made the line of prisoners stiffen. He bore his teeth at Caleb. "I like a brave man," he said. "And I like even more one who's willing to make sacrifices for a crewmate. So, congratulations, Caleb Widogast. Your contract with The Imperial Coin is up."
"Was?"
His confusion was comical. It made the crew of The Mistake laugh. Orly shuffled up behind Caleb and gave him a bracing pat. "It's quite an honor," he drawled. "The captain doesn't usually take on new hands, uh, mid-voyage like. But, oh, ho! I'm gonna enjoy you. Do you really always know north?"
"It's that way," Caleb said vaguely, but his eyes were fixed on Fjord. "Are you pressing me?"
"Does this look like the imperial navy?" Fjord asked. "I know I said I was a pirate, but I don't enjoy unwilling coworkers, and I certainly don't take slaves. I'm offering you a chance to walk off this ship a free man and join The Mistake."
"As a pirate?"
"As a pirate," Fjord confirmed. "Unless you have some moral qualms?"
Caleb closed his mouth, looked at the men and women huddled in the bow of the ship. "I don't want to kill them."
"You've never taken a life?"
His eyes snapped around. "I didn't say that."
Fjord considered, feeling that tug of interest inside his chest grow. He very deliberately kept any trace of it off his face. "Lucky for you, The Mistake doesn't kill people arbitrarily."
"You won't murder them?"
"Oh, no," Orly explained. "Shove 'em in a couple of rowboats and let 'em paddle home while we, uh, make a pretty bonfire of their barky. Yeah, sure. But kill 'em? Nah."
Caleb looked over his shoulder at Boldergut, who still had Nott restrained. "What about Nott?"
Fjord shook his head. "This isn't an open invitation. She'll be fine. Boldergut will let her go, and she can make her way with the rest."
"If you put her in a boat with them, they'll toss her overboard the moment we're out of sight."
Nott swallowed with difficulty around Boldergut's grip and offered up a watery smile. "Caleb, this is good. You'll be safe if you go with them. You won't have to worry about the empire anymore."
The breeze was freshening, the sun beginning to sink into the west. It was time to move their business along. "Listen," Fjord said. "I tell you what. I'll sweeten the pot for you. As a member of my crew, you're entitled to part of the prize. Usually, we do that kind of dividing up later, after everything's accounted for. But since this is your cardinal experience, and since you have a legitimate grievance, I'll let you choose. You must know what The Imperial Coin has to offer. So pick. Anything on the ship you can carry, you can take as your part of the prize. What do you say?"
There was a bit of grumbling as the crew put in the mandatory grousing about such a privilege, but what Fjord had said, he would stand by.
"Anything I can carry?" Caleb asked.
Amused, Fjord echoed Caleb's earlier pronouncement. "Anything."
Caleb pivoted on his heel. He stalked up to Boldergut and held out his arms. "Give her to me."
The ogre couldn't have looked more perplexed if she'd been hit overhead with an anchor. "Give what?"
"Nott," Caleb said, gesturing imperiously. "I want her. As my prize."
Boldergut looked at Fjord, who coughed to cover a short laugh. "Do what he says."
With great reluctance (and no small measure of confusion), Boldergut let go of her goblin captive. As soon as she was free, Nott launched herself into Caleb's arms, and for a moment they just held each other, clinging to each other's neck. Then Caleb turned and marched across the gangplank into The Mistake.
Orly whistled. "You gonna allow it, Captain?"
Fjord scratched his chin. "I did say he could have anything he could carry."
"That you did…that you did."
Fjord stepped onto the railing, then over onto his own ship. As he did, he shouted, "Let's finish our business and be on our way."
His people knew their duty. Cargo was moved, the remaining ship was searched, and prisoners were sorted into the boats and lowered into the water. While all this was happening, Fjord kept an eye on their newest shipmates. Gallan was patting Caleb on the back. Orly had trundled over and was wheezing out pleased noises through his pipes. And Marius, bless him, had emerged from below with some hard tack and jerky and was already plying them with it. Nott had stuffed as much of it in her cheeks as she could and was chewing with truly terrifying abandon.
By the time the sun was pooling on the water in gold and purple bands, all was ready. They made way, The Imperial Coin drawing farther to lee, until Fjord deemed the distance was sufficient. He called Caleb onto the quarterdeck. "Would you like to do the honors?"
Caleb turned to face the merchant ship. He raised his hand, and a burst of heat soared through the twilight and hit amidships. The flame caught, first the pile of debris the crew of The Mistake had created, then the mast and sails. Soon it was a burning beacon. Before night fell, it would be nothing but a hulk. The two of them stood, watching it burn.
"I don't know anything about being a pirate," Caleb said. "Captain Tusktooth."
Fjord rubbed the back of his neck. At least for the moment, he was ready to let that mask go. "It's Fjord, actually," he said. "And, ah, experience isn't required. I mean, I've been a sailor for a long time, but pirating? It wasn't exactly my plan. Still, I've made it work. We've all made it work."
He waited while Caleb absorbed this. The ocean surged alongside, which always made Fjord feel powerful, in his element. The voice whispered in his ear.
GROW.
Caleb said, "Very well."
Fjord barked a laugh. "Is that all you have to say?"
"I have been on the run for a long time," Caleb said. "Even before Nott and I left the empire. I don't claim to be a good person. I have been a thief, and I have been a con artist. And, yes," he looked Fjord in the eye. "I have been a murderer. But, if you will have Nott and I, if you think there is a place for us here, we will stay."
Fjord stretched his back. "Well, by the look of it, Fiskin has already adopted Nott, so…"
A chuckle slipped past Caleb's lips. "You will regret putting her in the proximity of gunpowder."
"A pirate's life is one of danger and calamity," Fjord said, clapping Caleb's back. "We'll just have to take the risk."
Caleb gazed at him, and in that moment, Fjord regretted nothing that had taken place that day: not the chase, or the bolt in his arm, or his offer, or his honesty. He didn't understand it, but something in him trusted Caleb. It felt like they were meant to travel together and work toward their goals. Not that he had any idea what Caleb's goals might be (on a good day, Fjord might admit that planning wasn't exactly his forte). But, hey, they were at sea, with the wind in their sails and all the world ahead.
They had time to find out.
Author's Note: Another one bites the dust! You don't know this about me, but I'm the hugest, dorkiest Patrick O'Brian fan in the entire world, so writing a story – however brief – that takes place on a sailing ship made me smile. It also gave me the opportunity to draw in Boldergut, who was easily my favorite character from the Nein's pirate shenanigans.
Notes on Game Mechanics:
[1] Suggestion – Like many spells that curtail the enemies movement and choices (like Sleep, for example), the Suggestion spell only holds up until its target takes damage.