Beastly (18 page)

The shell struck a mercenary square in the chest plate, knocking him from his feet. The man went down hard, winded into unconsciousness.

“You’re
gonna’ need more ’en one of those,” snarled a man near the pack’s front. He clapped a chipped battle axe against his chest.

Poogs rested the smoking blunderbuss on his shoulder. “No, I believe one shall suffice.”

The projectile exploded into crackling arcs of blueish-purple lightning. They danced from the fallen man, claiming his closest comrades. A
second pulsing arc claimed the rest. The tight formation was fast reduced to a quivering mass of limbs and rolling eyes.

“See?” Poogs taunted.
“Only one.” The pirate sprinted up the remaining stairs. He reloaded the blunderbuss as he navigated the forest of crates.

At the other end of the loft, the Beast tore at the barred window objecting to their escape. He paid the objection no mind and rent the rusty iron free. Behind him came the sounds of toppling crates. The Beast snapped back to the racket, ready for battle and was relieved by the sight of Poogs fast on his way. The Beast looked behind the pirate shimmying his way through the rows of crates, raising a brow at the mess. The small pile would have failed to block a curious child. The Beast dropped the mangled handful of barred window. “I don’t think that will slow them.”

“It wasn’t meant to,” Poogs replied. The pirate dangled the remains of the Beast’s hunter green cloak and then tossed it home.

***

Tavril’s brow was sheeted in perspiration. The dwarf knew that another failure was out of the question. The code allowed for no more leniency than a single second chance. Poogs must be brought in, dead or alive.

Preferably dead
.

“Where is that blasted
Janten? I should be parading that pirate scum’s body by now.”

Neither of Tavril’s body guards answered the dwarf. Sergeant Dacian of the City Watch joined the pursuit to protect his deal with the Wakeful captain. He cared nothing for the pirate or the dwarf’s guild. All that mattered was keeping Malachai happy and paying.

Drawing slender blades, Dacian and his City Watch lackeys moved in unison to the workshop. He gestured for Tavril to remain close behind. The crossbowmen still groaned from the pit’s bottom. Tavril’s cheeks flushed beneath his thick beard. The dwarf kicked at the street, cursing
Poogs’s name. He stopped for a breath, and his nose filled with the acrid smell of burning chemicals.

That damned pirate...

Tavril turned to run, but was too late. The loft exploded, ripping away part of the roof and most of the store front. An avalanche of burning crates rained down, flattening the shelves and covered projects. Fire greedily rolled over the walls, fueled by the endless expanse of schematics. Tavril pushed the smoking body of a mercenary away and struggled to his feet. His head was a vibrating mess. A carpet of writhing watchmen decorated the street. The workshop was little more than debris.

A grim smile slowly crawled over the dwarf’s chiseled face.
No one could have escaped the fireball.

***

The Beast fled through the maze of blind alleys with Poogs trailing close behind. “Ahead, next right and we should be clear.”

The Beast reached the intersection and stopped. The pirate’s judgement back at the workshop had been correct. A stand up brawl would not have ended well. Not for Poogs. Not for himself.
Not for Lia
.

Poogs finally caught up and joined the Beast in a moment’s rest. He bent, bracing a hand on a knee, chest heaving.

“Thank you, captain,” the Beast said. He
pat the medallion beneath his cloak. “My quest continues with purpose. Now I need only find Malachai and the child.”

Poogs stretched his back. “Who is this child you seek, why does she mean so much to you?”

“Her grandfather said she was special, that she could heal your world. The old man offered his assistance with this.” The Beast tapped the medallion. “I’ve had visions of her, heard her voice.”

“It is truly the most terrible of things when a child is lost.”

“She is no child of mine and yet we are connected somehow. It is as though I know her without ever having met her. She is...”

“What?”

The Beast hesitated, unsure of the words. “...mine to protect.” He was sure that a zinging quip would be the price paid for his sentiment, but none came. Instead, Poogs merely gestured to the intersection.

“We must go.”

The pair ran deeper into the Merchant’s Enclave. On all sides, store fronts full of dark and shuttered windows pressed together into a narrowing, dense nest. The Beast stumbled through a switchback as the pirate spoke once more.

“She would have been lucky to have you.
As my son would have been to have me.”

The Beast heard a familiar click. He turned to find an expressionless Poogs raising the blunderbuss.

“I am truly sorry, my friend.”

The projectile thumped into the Beast’s chest, knocking him back a step. Disbelief was fast replaced by a sudden burst of white-hot rage.
Betrayal. As expected.
He lurched forward, picturing a headless pirate. An arc of lightning surged from the metallic shell, piercing the Beast’s breast. His muscles spasmed
and he stumbled to a knee. Fury carried him through a wobbling stride into the blunderbuss’s wafting smoke.

The Beast swung at the pirate, claws begging for the soft flesh of his throat. Poogs stood motionless as the claws raked down, missing by inches. The Beast reached up from the ground, willing his arm to another strike. Vengeance would be his.

And then he fell into oblivion.

Chapter 21

The prow of the Reaper’s Song cut through the rolling waves of Meridian’s coast. Her trio of main sails caught sweeping currents of wind, speeding the massive vessel true. She was a constant fixture of the seafaring world. The buxom figurehead with the skeletal face had haunted nightmares since the dawn of time. Clutching her lyre to her chest, she pierced the morning mists with an out-stretched sword.

The majestic ship had slipped away unnot
iced by the City Watch, courtesy of her captain’s considerable influence. Poogs knew intimately the power of a coin laden purse. He tapped his own laden purse, jingling its fresh contents, pleased by the heft. Satisfied for the moment, the pirate returned his attention to his beloved vessel, lazily guiding the helm with one hand.

Sergeant Dacian of the City Watch was not faring as well. His left eye was swollen shut, blood poured from his bludgeoned mouth. The corrupt watchman faced the dawn bound and kneeling on the main deck. Malachai paced a short path in front of the bloodied man, spiked boots gouging the deck. “You were warned.” He stomped Dacian’s chest, sending him reeling. Mercy was a wholly unknown concept to the black rider. Kicking a downed opponent was a central tenet of Wakeful combat
doctrine and one he particularly enjoyed.

Shivers climbed the spines of
Poogs’s crew as a second savage kick curled Dacian into a ball. Blood spurt from his mouth. He rolled onto his back, pleading for mercy. Lia met Dacian’s panicked gaze as he panted beneath his tormentor. Terror stared back from a single teary orb. She wracked her mind for a way to help. She looked to the seas, blue like a hummingbird, but found no answers. She considered calling out to Polaris, but a memory of her
pafaa
stirred.
Bravery no matter the odds.

Malachai hoisted Dacian to his feet. His fiery gaze scorched Dacian’s face. He contorted his slit-like mouth into a half smile while wisps of smoke peeled from Dacian’s cheeks. “You were warned. And you knew the penalty.” The Wakeful Captain seized shivering Dacian into a tight bear hug. The condemned man cried out in agony, torn by the blades and barbs of Malachai’s armor.

Lia screamed to her lungs limit. Malachai dropped the bloody mess, kicking him again for good measure before gesturing to the crew. The crewmen looked wide eyed at each other, then to their captain. A dour Poogs grimaced,
then nodded once. He would not share in Dacian’s mistakes. He would not fail the Wakeful. The doomed City Watchman begged for mercy as the crew lifted him overhead and tossed him over the rail. His final cry stretched over the waves as he fell.

Lia rushed to the railing and peered over the gilded woodwork. A single bobbing arm stuck up from the waves. A moment later, Dacian was
gone.

“Bring me the other,” Malachai commanded.

Lia’s heart plunged into her stomach. Across the deck, a door opened. Her lip quivered as Castiel was shoved stumbling forward to Malachai’s judgment. His hands were bound behind his back and cold sweat pasted his shirt to his blanched skin. Malachai swatted his victim with a stiff backhand. Castiel’s head swiveled, his face torn by the jagged gauntlet’s kiss. It was more than Lia could take. She rushed down from the helm, throwing herself up as Castiel’s shield.
“Stop!”

Malachai raised his fist, deciding between victims. Salty air rushed over the Reaper’s Song, tussling Lia’s rich curls. Malachai lowered his hand, cautioned both by the wind’s sudden intrusion and fresh memory of Lia’s strength. The child reached for Castiel’s wounded face. She muttered a secret word and the Breath came, wrapping her hands in healing orbs of white light. Castiel’s jailors hastily retreated to the safety of their shipmates.

The deep cuts warmed under Lia’s gentle touch. Slowly, the Breath seeped into Castiel’s wounds, sealing them with light. Jaws slackened down the line of Poogs and company. Most knew of magic only in old seafaring tales. Poogs, for all of the grand sights he’d seen, had encountered magic only once before, on the day he had acquired the Reaper’s Song. Lia removed her hands and the Breath disappeared. A moment later the
collection of grievous lacerations were no more than faint traces of thinning scars.

“Blasphemy!” Malachai swatted the child aside. He seized Castiel by the throat with an iron grip. “His fate is of
your
doing, little abomination.”

Castiel struggled, but Malachai tightened the iron noose of fingers. The railing grew closer. Castiel’s eyes rolled into his skull. Malachai dangled the watchman effortlessly over the side, relishing in his torment. That he possessed the means to punish the little abomination fueled the hell in his eyes. He flinched, letting Castiel slip a few inches.

The orbs returned instantly to Lia’s hands. “No!”

Poogs laid a steadying hand on Lia’s shoulder. Her head snapped around, finding the silent plea in his steel grey eyes.

No
.

Lia carefully regarded the tall pirate,
then let the glow fade.

“Captain Malachai, perhaps an arrangement could be made?” Poogs thumbed the heavy purse from his belt, and flipped it across the deck to the Wakeful captain.

An eternity passed and Malachai finally dumped a limp Castiel to the deck. He stepped over the unconscious watchman, meeting Poogs nose to nose. The pirate instinctively scooped Lia behind him. A foolish gesture, but one he had to make. Malachai flung the pouch from the Reaper’s Song. “Her majesty has no need for your currency.”

Malachai regarded the fast spreading mass of island forming on the horizon. A dozen private docks reached out into the open waters. He shouted to the gathered crew of the Reaper’s song.

“But I yet have use for you.”

***

A piercing scream abducted the Beast from the dream world. His body wrenched from the wooden floor as he tried to quickly scramble to his feet. Thick manacles chained him doubly to the wall and to a floor mounted ring. He tugged at against his restraints, but soon
understand the dire nature of his situation.
Trapped
.

Long buried memories flooded his mind. Panic spread through the Beast’s veins like icy poison. Every freezing moment brought agonizing, day-long visions of the chains. He shivered, struggled against the chains. He slumped back to the floor, burdened by the crushing weight of memory.
Shame. Fear... Anger
. The Beast remembered the prison camp, the year he had spent there. Chained and beaten. Abandoned and left to answer for the crimes of his band. Drop by drop, the torment returned to him.

But there was more...

He remembered the child in Urda’s skies. He remembered the stone walls and suffocating darkness. He remembered Arak Jai and the stinging legion of his venomous pets. Turn by twisting turn the kaleidoscope
shifted. A scarred figure lead him into the dungeon and without a word, chained him to the wall. The man left with no pity, abandoning the boy to Arak Jai’s torments. The dungeon’s door slammed shut. The man’s muffled voice called back with promises that punishment would make him strong.

The Beast snapped from the memory and braced against the chains. The iron links were as thick as a blacksmith’s wrists and showed little sign of distress. Still, he had to try. If not for
himself than for the crying child left alone in the dark. He squat with a handful of chain, then drove hard against the bracket.

Nothing.

He tore instead into the wall, prying at the mooring.

Nothing.

The Beast tugged at the little slack he had, fighting for a view from a nearby porthole. The horizon rose and fell, each undulation tying a knot in his stomach. The cargo hold swayed, dancing with the Reaper’s Song over the waves. The Beast skulked from the porthole: the sure footing of the Great Road was all he knew. Wherever the destination, he hoped it remained unmoving.