Nobody Likes Fairytale Pirates (6 page)

“Then
cut them,
Marston.” 
Uriah snapped, lowering his voice.  “But do it as quietly as you can.”

“Why?”

“We are in a battle, Marston.”  He
reminded the man.  “Which means
I
order,
you
obey.  Now, I know
that it’s become the
dernier cri
recently for subordinates to demand
explanations from their commanders in times of crisis, and believe me, I’d
positively
adore
helping you to better understand your job, but I really
think if you knew the
particulars
of this situation, you’d agree with me
that haste is necessary.”

Marston shook his head.  “I don’t
think we can just…”

Uriah put his fingers to his lips
and gave a whistle, then signaled the first mate to get the ship underway.  The
man looked a bit taken aback by the order, but immediately roused the men into
action.

Uriah ignored Marston’s continued
babbling and simply stalked over to the ropes himself, strolling down the
railing and cutting each of them in turn with a small hatchet which was kept on
hand for
just
such a purpose.

Uriah wasn’t a long-term planner,
but he was always ready to double-cross an ally if the situation warranted it.

And in this case, the situation
most definitely warranted it.  

The
Whore
began to separate
from Rowland’s armada.

Just a few more seconds and they’d
be away.  On the open water, there was no way anything that size could catch Uriah’s
vessel.  The
Whore
was fast and agile and she would be out of cannon
range before Rowland’s men even got them loaded.  And she’d be halfway to
Tougia before Rowland’s ships got underway to pursue.

All he needed was thirty more
seconds.  At most.  And he’d be free and clear.

But predictably… he didn’t get it.

One of Rowland’s men emerged from
his captain’s cabin, screaming bloody murder.

Uriah swore viciously, his mind
immediately playing out the possible outcomes and recognizing how they all
ended.

The man Rowland had stationed on
the gangplank started to run across it before the
Whore
pulled entirely
away, intent on stopping Uriah’s escape.  He got one foot onto the
Whore
before catching Uriah’s hatchet to his chest and toppling overboard.

“
Marston, ready the cannon and
prepare to repel boarders!
”  Uriah shouted, kicking the gangplank into the
water.  “ALL HANDS!  We’re going to have company!”

“What did you do!?!”  Marston demanded,
his voice livid.  “You stupid crazy sonofabitch!”

“I’ll explain later!”  Uriah waved
off the concern.  “Just get us…”  He turned around to find that Marston had
lowered the sails again and had a sword in his hand.  “…Oh, bad form.”  He told
the man softly, taken aback.

“I ain’t dying for you and some
angry foreign bitch, Cap’n.”  Marston shook his head.  “
None of us
are.”

“We’ve been through plenty and I
haven’t gotten us killed yet, have I?”  Uriah tried, attempting to sound
reasonable.

“We survive
despite
you, not
because
of you.”  Marston’s voice was hard.  “We been talking with
Rowland about joining up with him for months now.”

“Sadly, I think that will prove
surprisingly difficult at this particular juncture, unless one of my loyal crew
happens to be some kind of medium or wizard in disguise.”  Uriah looked around
at their faces, as if genuinely searching for supernatural volunteers. 
“Anyone?”  He called, his tone serious.  “Is anyone here a Warlock? 
Necromancer?  Shamanistic priest?”  He paused, sounding hopeful.  “Anyone?”

The Adithian girl snorted in
amusement, then doubled over in pain, collapsing to the deck.

“Not even
a
single
clairvoyant?  Wow.  I’m
sorely
disappointed in you, men.”  Uriah turned
back to Marston and shrugged.  “It appears as if your celebrated partnership with
Rowland is limited to the earthly realm, Marston.”  Uriah pointed at the weapon
clutched in the man’s hand.  “But don’t worry, threatening me is going to have
you reunited with your departed friend
very
quickly.”

“The way I see it,” Marston
continued, “
I
should be cap’n.”

“I’ve often complemented you on
your imagination, Marston.”  Uriah stepped to the side, trying to subtly put
himself in front of the girl.  She was in no condition to defend herself
anymore.  She could barely move.  “The way you can dream such fantastic and
impossible things.”  He placed his hand over his heart, as if moved.  “You may
not be a wizard, but the fanciful stories you weave are a kind of magic all
their own.”

The girl snickered again, then swore
in pain and pulled herself in a fetal position, her tone fatalistic but
entertained.

Rowland’s ships pulled up alongside
the
Whore
and his men began to fill the deck.

“With Rowland gone,” Marston looked
around as if searching for someone, “I guess
I’m
the only captain of his
armada left standing, aren’t I?”  His eyes narrowed.  “Which means
I’m
in
charge.” 

“Well, the captains and officers of
Rowland’s other ships might have something to say about that.”  Uriah
challenged.

“The bitch already killed all of ‘em.” 
Marston reminded him flatly.

“Bullocks.”  Uriah made a face,
once again wishing that she’d been a waitress or something.  If she had left
more of their enemies alive, they wouldn’t be in this mess.

Marston shook his head.  “Which
means, at last there can be a
real
leader here, instead of someone too
weak to get the job
done
.”  He thumped his clenched fist against his
chest.  “No more will I have to bow and serve someone so
entirely
inept. 
Do you have any idea how many times you’ve almost gotten me killed over the
years?  Just for some idiotic idea that pops into your head?”  His voice rose
an octave.  “
I
will write my name in blood on the seas, and finally be
rewarded, rather than being relegated to serving under…”

“No offense,” Uriah held up a hand
to cut off the man’s self-important ramblings, “but your problems aren’t
exactly going to take up chapters in my fucking memoirs, okay?”  He shook his
head.  “I really don’t care if you like me or not, because frankly, that’s not
a requirement of either of our jobs.  But if this is mutiny, then I’m going to
have to string you up as an example to the others.”

“I’m the
quartermaster
.” 
Marston reminded him.  “Which means if the crew doesn’t like you, I can replace
you.”

Uriah drew his sword.  “My mother always
told me that I was
irreplaceable
.”  He nodded in mock sincerity.  “She
taught me that I’m a ‘precious treasure,’ Marston.  A ‘unique and perfect
little flower.’”  He gave an edge to his voice.  “Unless you’re calling my
mother a
liar
…”

Marston advanced on him.  “Do you
really intend to fight an entire ship?”

“Of course not.”  Uriah scoffed.  “That
would be ludicrous.”  He paused.  “I intend to fight this gentleman here.”  He
pointed at the man closest to him.  “And then Dolan over there.”

“Deven.”  The man corrected.

“It won’t matter for much longer,
son.”  Uriah assured him calmly, then gestured to the pair to his left.  “And then
I’ll fight that fellow with the peg leg and that chap in the striped pants.” 
He turned back to Marston.  “I don’t have to fight an entire ship.  It’s like
my sainted mother always said: ‘How do you fight an army?”  He raised his sword. 
“
One man at a time
.’”

The crew rushed forward.

Uriah had killed three men before the
first one had even fallen to the deck.

The quick movement caused the arrow
wound in his back to become
agonizing,
tearing open more and more as he
moved his arm to attack and defend
.

He kicked another man overboard,
then blocked a strike from one of Rowland’s men.  He punched the man, then
ducked to slice his stomach open.

Three men grabbed Uriah, pushing
him backwards towards the rail.  He tried to pull his arm free, but found
himself oddly unable to break away.  His right arm wouldn’t respond, too
injured from the arrow wound.  He kicked the man holding his legs and used that
momentum to topple over onto the man holding his left arm.  The fall to the
deck loosened the crewman’s grip and Uriah was able to pull his hand from his
grasp and stab him.  Unfortunately, it also drove the arrow further into
Uriah’s body, so deep it felt like it almost popped out the other side.

Another opponent died seconds
later, as a dozen more men crowded around Uriah

He switched to his left hand and
twirled the weapon several times to get a better feel for the unfamiliar grip.

It would have been nice to say that
he hadn’t been expecting this to happen.  At least t
hen
he could pretend
that he hadn’t pissed his whole life away like this.

But he couldn’t say that.

Because this was
exactly
how
he expected things to go.

Well, maybe not the Marston thing. 
Not yet
,
anyway.  He hadn’t been expecting the man to betray him this
soon.  He’d known the man for years, and while they weren’t close friends, he
had thought he would back him when push came to shove.  But Uriah certainly anticipated
that he’d be forced to fight the sixty or so men who were left under Rowland’s
command.  Uriah’s own men being added to that list was just a headache to a
drowning man.  There were already too many opponents, so it didn’t matter how
many more were added.

No, he’d known that there was no
way out of the situation with the girl alive.

It was an unwinnable scenario. 
Lose-lose, seemingly designed to teach him humility and the cost of being such
a selfish prick his entire life.

No matter what he did, either the girl
was going to die or they
both
were.

But he had to try anyway.

Death.  First.

So, if there was no way she was
going to make it out of this situation alive, then he was going down with her.

That was the way of his people.

Which was probably why they’d never
been accused of being very bright.

But there was really no question
how the fight was going to go.

None at all.

In the end, he’d ended up taking
down about twenty of them before finally being subdued.  Which was just an
appalling
low number for an enraged Grizzwoodian.  He was utterly and completely
ashamed of how poorly he had faired.  Even against such a high number, he
should have been able to kill more of them.  He didn’t understand it.

He hadn’t lost a real fight since
he was a child trying to stand up to his father, and the realization that he
had failed washed over him like a tidal wave, destroying everything.

He’d known he was going to fail, obviously,
but knowing something and living it were two different things.

There were a lot of aspects to his
life which he didn’t have confidence in.  But fighting had never been one of
them.  He could fight.  He could kill.  And he did it well.

But he’d simply lost today.

The only time it had really
mattered… and he lost.

It was just like that goddamned
fruit basket, all over again.

Because he wasn’t a hero, no matter
how many times he seemed to forget that fact.

He couldn’t protect what was his.

And that shame made him want to
cry.  Just cry uncontrollably.

The crew forced him to his knees,
wrenching the arrow from his back in the process.  He hissed in pain,
struggling with them, but there were two men on each arm holding him down.

“You’re killing
friends!?!
 
Your own
crew!?! 
For… for some little piece of ass!?!”  Marston sounded
equal parts amazed, insulted, and furious.  “Really!?!”

“You were
never
my friend,
Marston.”  Uriah corrected.  “You were just some asshole I took pity on because
he was good at
shining my boots
.”  Uriah spat at him.  “So kill me and
be done with it.”

Marston’s eyes narrowed in total
fury.  “
Hold him
.”  He growled out to the men, then moved to grab the
woman and drag her closer, so that she was in front of Uriah.  “Aw, lookit the
pretty face which causes a man to betray his own.”

Uriah turned away, guessing what
was about to happen.

“I said
LOOK!
”  Marston
screamed, his voice sounding raw with anger and what could only be the bizarre
sense of betrayal he seemed to feel.

The crew grabbed Uriah’s head and
held it in place, pulling his eyes open so that he couldn’t look away.

Marston grabbed the back of the
woman’s head holding her face up so that it was inches from Uriah’s.  Her eyes
darted around in panic for a moment, then locked with his.  Deep, dark pools of
utter perfection.  Mysterious and beautiful as the nighttime in his homeland,
filled with secrets and wonder.

And at the moment… fear.

The woman’s perfect stunning eyes
just drove home his failure.  Seemingly accusing him with their flawlessness
and screaming at him for being so weak that he’d allow this to happen to her.   

He’d never felt so ashamed in his
entire life.  A tear traced down his cheek.

He’d failed her.

Marston passed the blade in front
of her face, showing them both the small blade.

“I’m… I’m
sorry
.”  Uriah
whispered to her in a daze, his voice breaking.  “I’m so sorry.”

Marston pressed the blade to the
woman’s face and began to cut…

Present Day

“You’re sorry?”  Ransom repeated. 
“
You’re goddamned right, you’re sorry!
”  She swatted at her partner. 
“How many hours are you planning on keeping us here, Uriah?  Huh?  Should I
start having our mail forwarded?  I can just tell people to address it to ‘The
Idiots at Table Five,’ because we’ll
still be here
.”

There was silence from the man.

She sighed.  “You can’t
shrug,
you
moron!”  She swatted at him again.  “I can’t see it!  How many times do I have
to tell you that!?!”

“I didn’t shrug, I rolled my
eyes.”  He defended, as if that somehow made a difference.  “I just don’t see
what the big deal is?”

“The big deal is that we’re broke
and have no prospects.  We’ve spent the last year hunting for your missing
ship, with nothing to show for it.”  She carefully explained for the millionth
time.  “And I don’t know about you, but I sure don’t want to spend the rest of
my life
here.
”

She gestured to their surroundings,
which smelled terrible
. 
Like stale ale and even staler urine.

“You’re getting upset again.”  He
chided, his voice distracted as he played with Dinner, their pet
monkey-bird-thing.  The creature came and went as it pleased, but at the
moment, it was apparently perched on Uriah’s shoulder, making a low cooing
sound at him.  “There’s no sense in ruining our lovely evening over this.”

“What ‘lovely evening’!?!”  She pointed
around the tavern again.  “This place smells like someone opened a
whore
house
in an
out
house!”

“Don’t listen to her, ma’am.” 
Uriah told someone reassuringly.  “Her people are chronically dissatisfied with
everything.  They believe that ‘discourtesy’ and ‘culture’ are the same.”  He
paused for a moment.  “Now then, I haven’t had a chance to peruse the menu and
my partner is obviously unable,” his tone brightened, “but can you please tell
me what the soup of the day is?”

“I’m guessing: ‘whiskey’.”  Ransom
deadpanned.

Footsteps sounded as the barmaid
made her way from their table, apparently in a huff.

But Ransom didn’t care.

The bitch had been sniffing around
for the last ten minutes.  To Ransom’s way of thinking, that either meant that
she was spying on them, she was trying to kill them, or she was trying to get
into Uriah’s pants.

Most likely all three.

But Uriah being Uriah, he just
ignored it, as if life were simply an amusing parade he was privileged to watch
pass by.

She had no idea if her partner was
handsome or not.  He claimed to be, true, but she thought that was mostly about
him being an arrogant jackass.  She knew he was taller than most of the men
around.  And solidly built.  But the way women hovered around him sometimes…
made her wonder if he wasn’t really telling the truth about his looks after all.

Not that it mattered much to her,
since whether he was gorgeous or a gargoyle, she wouldn’t be able to tell the
difference.  The only things she could possibly find attractive were someone’s
personality, someone’s voice, and… the general feeling she got when they were
around.  She could only be attracted to things which made her
feel
good,
not things which
looked
good.

She didn’t care at all about
appearances, because she couldn’t see them anyway.

Falling in love at first sight was
impossible if you were blind.

But in either case, she didn’t like
the idea of her partner being as handsome as he claimed.  She didn’t like
listening to strange women try to flirt with him as if she wasn’t even there,
and she didn’t like the fact that she was stuck here waiting for his phantom
client to appear while the women tried.

Her partner was the most important
person in her life, but sometimes he just annoyed her to no end.

If she had access to a shovel or
mallet or anything heavy at the moment, she would have used it to hit him on
his big dumb head.

“You were unpardonably rude to that
poor girl.”  Uriah sounded genuinely insulted on the slutty waitress’ behalf.

Ransom let out a scoff.  “Well, for
a couple of coppers, I’ll sure she’s let you make it up to her.”

“A ‘couple of coppers’?”  Uriah
repeated with a snort.  “Dove, just where do you think you
are
?  That
girl would sell herself to us for
half
that.”

“’Us’?”  She repeated, arching an
eyebrow.

“We’re a
team
, Dove.”  He
teased.  “I don’t do anything without you, you know that.  And for a loaf of
stale bread, that girl would let us do whatever we wanted to her.”

Ransom crossed her arms over her
chest, sick of this conversation.  “Listen, as much as I
love
debating
the price of whores with you…” She began.

“The girl is simply going through a
rough patch at the moment, Dove, not embarking upon a lifelong career.  This
world is tough and being judged by strangers doesn’t help.  But she’ll find a
way out of her regrettable situation and get her life back on track.”

“I’m so glad for her.”  She
deadpanned.  “Hurray.”  Her partner lived in his own fantasy world sometimes,
where everything worked out for people.  “See this face, Uriah?”  She gestured
to her own expression with her hand.  “This is my: ‘I don’t give a fuck’ face.”

“Yes, I recognize it.  It’s the one
you almost always have.”

“Good, then you know what it
means.”

“I’m guessing-- and this is just a
shot in the dark here-- that it means that you…”

“I don’t give a fuck.”  She
finished for him.  “That’s what it means.”

“I was hoping that its name was
meant ironically.”

“Nope.”  She crossed her arms over
her chest again.  “I think we should focus on the matter at hand and stop
flirting with slutty barmaids. 
Now
.”

He cleared his throat. 
“Absolutely.”  He tapped the tabletop.  “Now, our contact here is running a bit
late...”

“Really?”  She asked sarcastically. 
“Hadn’t noticed.  The hours are just flying by.”

He chuckled in amusement.  “But I
think it’ll be worth it in the end.”

She held out a hand of peanuts for
their pet to munch on.  The animal grabbed them from her palm and then
retreated to wherever it was Dinner went when it wasn’t getting in the way or
cooing at Uriah.  “Any idea what this guy wants from us?”

“None.”  He took a drink.  “But you
and I can’t exactly afford to be overly captious in this instance, now can we?”

“Not unless we enjoy starving.”

“Which we do not.”  He tapped the
tabletop again.  “That means that we
must
make this deal work for us,
even if on its face it seems like folly.”

Truth be told, most things with her
partner seemed like folly.

The man was the most capable man
she had ever known, but most of the time he somehow managed to bungle things
anyway.  Usually because he didn’t always have the stomach for his chosen line
of work.  He’d argue against that idea, of course, since he felt he was the
roughest man who ever lived.

But Uriah was too soft.  And one
day it would get him killed.

“I don’t like this.”  She warned,
imagining the many ways such a plan could go wrong.

“Is that your professional
opinion?”  He asked her seriously.

If she vetoed the plan, it was dead
in the water.  Uriah was a stubborn man, but he wouldn’t go against her.  She
knew that.

“No.”  She decided after a moment. 
“I just think we need to be careful.”

“Dove, caution and restraint are my
middle names.”

She made an unconvinced sound.

In the years of their relationship,
she had never known him to be either cautious
or
restrained
. 
Not
that he was usually stupid or reckless, just that he sometimes let his own
gentle nature and tendency towards “
Adventure!
” get the best of him.

But he was a good man.

And the only person on the face of
this earth she trusted entirely.
 

The man’s deep, overly cheerful,
but somehow still melancholy, voice was the one constant in her life.  He was
her strong arm, when she needed it.  Her shoulder to cry on, when she needed
that.  And everything in between.

He was her companion.

Ransom didn’t really remember much
about herself.

She came into this world somewhere
around five years ago and everything else before that was a total blank.  As such,
she had quite literally known Uriah her entire life. 

He’d been there every minute.

A protector and a friend and a
partner.

There was something about the man
which just made everything…
better. 
Like, no matter how bad things got
for them, as long as he was there, it was almost amusing.  Like she didn’t have
to worry about it, because together, they’d get it done.  And in the meanwhile,
she could sit with him and laugh at the crazy stuff which kept happening to
them.

Fatalistic but entertained.

But she depended on him far too
much.

She knew that.

She used him as a crutch, and
Ransom was not the kind of person who liked to be dependent on anyone.  At
least, she didn’t think she was, anyway.  She actually had no way of knowing
what kind of person she’d been before five years ago.

And she didn’t much care.

Whoever that woman was,
Ransom
believed
in self-sufficiency now.

And… Uriah was her world.  Both
metaphorically and almost entirely literally.

She needed him.  She depended on
him for pretty much everything in her life.  And she
didn’t
want to be
someone’s charity case.  The woman they pitied.

So, she kept her distance from
him.  Because he already had everything else in her life.  And he
had
to
know that.

If she allowed herself to feel
something more for him… 

That would be bad.

He’d have
all of her.

She’d have no defense.

Not that she really worried about
Uriah betraying her or suddenly deciding to do something utterly reprehensible,
just that…  Ransom wasn’t someone who liked feeling exposed.  She liked keeping
a nice, safe emotional distance from people and situations.  It just made
things easier for her.  It was comfortable not having to invest in anything. 
It felt like she’d always done that, even before her memory troubles.  The idea
of letting someone in was… terrifying.

And the only thing in this world
which could consistently break through her defenses was her partner.

The man was strong, and kind, and
funny.  And when he touched her…  It sent shockwaves through her system, which
threatened to rip her apart and take down all of the barriers she had carefully
built up around herself.  She both feared and desired that sensation.  It made
her feel so vulnerable, but… also kind of safe.

Which, again, made her feel
pathetic and dependent on him.

She didn’t want to risk that.

She
couldn’t
.

The thought of it frightened her. 
Cut through the desire she had for him, and burned her down to the bone.

Besides, what if she did one day
get her memory back and somehow forgot the last five years as a result… how could
she do that to Uriah?  How could she ask him to invest anything in her, when
she wasn’t even sure who she was?

She could hurt him and she wasn’t
sure she could live with that.

Or she could get him hurt.

How could you handle it if you lost
your best friend and the love of your life in the same day?  He’d take your
heart and soul with him and leave you with nothing.  You’d be empty, helpless,
and alone.

And worse, what… what if you gave
him everything you had… and it wasn’t enough?

Ransom was a confident woman… but
that didn’t mean she was willing to risk everything she had on the uncertain chance
of possibly getting more.

Perhaps at some point in her life
she had been a gambler, but at the moment, she was content to leave things as
they were.  No matter how much she might long for the man to touch her or how
much everything in her wanted to blurt out what she’d always wanted to say to
him… she wasn’t going to do that.

She couldn’t.

She just
couldn’t
.

She was too afraid.

And yes, that fear was stupid and silly
and made no sense.

But it was there all the same.

It was the only thing in the world
she was afraid of.

“I will go get us some sustenance
while we wait for our future client, yes?”  He informed her.  “Sadly, I’m
afraid due to your impoliteness, our waitress has decided not to return to our
table, so I shall have to deliver the order myself.”  He rose from the table. 
“I shall return momentarily with culinary delights which no sane woman has ever
sampled before.”  He promised, his voice filled with grandiosity and good
humor.  “Prepare thyself, Rance.  Prepare thyself.”

She tried to suppress her smile
until his footsteps vanished into the background noise.

The man was such fun to be around. 
Annoying at times, true, but in a fun way. 

Well… most of the time, anyway.

Ransom found him utterly charming,
for some reason.  Somewhere along the line, she had become totally smitten with
him, in spite of herself.

She shifted in her chair, thinking
about how it felt to be in his arms…

Then pushed the idea from her mind.

She didn’t want to dwell on those
kind of thoughts.  It just made things harder.  It just made it hurt more to
keep her distance from him.  Not that it was a great deal of distance, but it
was a distance all the same.  And any distance at all felt…
wrong. 
Everything
inside her was telling her to pull the man as close as she possibly could.