Blackjack Wayward (The Blackjack Series) (4 page)

And they were settled on me.

His intense demeanor almost led me to forget the Captain, standing beside him, and the tillerman just beyond. She introduced me to the newcomer in her strange guttural tongue, sweeping an open hand toward me. The only word I recognized was my butchered name. She then motioned to the bronze man and said one single word, “Drovani.”

I repeated the name, jutting my hand out to the alien, and said, “I’m Blackjack.”

He just looked at my hand as if I was holding a handful of chicken shit and then looked at the captain with confusion. I clasped my own hand.

“You do it like this,” I said and Drovani shrugged, shaking my hand with a clumsy but firm grip. “It’s from the old days, to make sure you don’t have a weapon at the ready. Also to say hello. So, hello.”

Drovani looked at his hand, trying to conceal his distaste.

“Sorry, mate. You shake ‘er like a man.”

Somehow he understood, and thrust his hand out at me again, this time giving it a good go of it.

“Better,” I said flashing a smile that he returned.

The Captain seemed both pleased and nervous, as the bronze fellow and I seemed to hit it off. Drovani spoke to the Captain, getting approval for something, then closed his eyes, whispering. His eyes snapped open but his mumbling continued, his melodic voice echoing even after his lips stopped moving, a rolling breeze on the wind. It was a wisp, floating in front of me, barely embodied. The sound swirled around us, like dancing smoke, going through a transformation, changing in timbre and decibel, and from one overall sound to another, until finally, I could understand it.

“Pleasure to meet you, Blackjack,” Drovani said though almost twenty seconds after he had spoken.

“Nice trick,” I said, hoping that his weird magic would translate backward, and it did, though only after an interminable delay. He nodded, understanding after a while and spoke again, now moving his hands to affect the spell.

“This will bring us together,” came from the smoke after a few moments, this time faster, and with his able ministrations, he narrowed the distance between us, little by little.

“Are you he?” he said. “Are you The Blackjack?”

I beamed. “The one and only.”

The gap between the sound and his voice almost imperceptible now, “Are you the one who toppled the Mist Army?” he continued, turning severe, finishing his spell, and for a second, I thought he might attack me. I’ve faced foes much larger and powerful, vanquished them all, yet this bronze-gold man gave me pause.

“Then it is you we have to blame,” he spat. “For all the war and bloodshed that has followed.”

I looked over at the Captain, but I couldn’t read her steely face.

“Is that a fact?” I said absentmindedly, feeling Drovani’s glare.

He nodded. “It is. Since the fall of the Mists, our world has fallen to chaos and civil war. There was peace and balance with the Mist Army, despite their many flaws; their presence alone would have averted the famine and war that followed your first coming.”

“Well, you didn’t see that shithole village we arrived at, and the abject squalor those people had to live in.”

“He speaks of Dorrakhan,” The captain shot in, identifying the village. I did a double-take on her, suddenly realizing that Drovani’s translation spell also worked on the captain.

“Yeah, them. They didn’t look too prosperous. Place was more like a gulag, you know what I mean?” I let that linger a moment before continuing. “Was that the Mist Army you were talking about?”

“There are those who always suffer,” he said.

“Besides, that’s not the point,” I went on, not caring that he was growing more and more severe. “They tried to kill me and my friends.”

“You were trespassing on their lands.”

I looked at the captain, who seemed to be enjoying our tit-for-tat. She smiled and shrugged, implying that I was on my own against my bronze adversary.

“They could have asked us nice,” I smiled.

The Captain laughed, clapping me on the back with far more strength than I gave her credit for.

“Little did they know it was Big Bad Blackjack they had come across!”

“Yes, well, now there’s war. And my people suffer. And I am left wishing that you had not come,” Drovani said softly. Then he turned and walked down the stairs and across the main deck.

“He’s full of piss and wind,” Zann spat, coming closer, apparently having heard much of the conversation.

“He is a Yellow Sun prince and our client, Zann,” the Captain retorted. “We must therefore treat him with the respect that should be accorded one of his station. Besides, he is paying for our latest foray.”

“I don’t know what all that meant,” he said, adjusting his crotch.

“Yellow Sun is what we call them because of the color of their skin, but they self-identify as the Vershani. In any case, they are the power among the drift, now that the Mist Army is gone. It means we play nice,” she said, giving me a wink. “I am Contessa Nicatrix, by the way, and my ship is called the Lady’s Nightmare. I introduced myself prior to Drovani incanting his magic, so I doubt you understood.”

“How long will it last?”

She shrugged, taking a few steps toward the tiller and giving the pilot a minor course correction.

“Let’s hope it lasts,” I said. “I don’t want to ask that guy for anything.”

“It is he that is asking us for something, Blackjack. We are presently in his employ.”

I leaned back against the railing that overlooked the main deck, gazing aft, watching the billowing wake left as the ship’s bow disturbed the swirling skies.

“It places you in a strange predicament,” she continued.

“I bet it does.”

“We saved you from being marooned and a not-so-pleasant end.”

Zann chuckled.

“And I guess now I’m in your debt.”

“You could say that, but more than that, I have a proposition for you. Help my crew with our upcoming mission and I will make you a rich man. If you wish to part ways at that time, then we shall drop you off in Mangalore, Stardock, or wherever you wish, safe and sound with your pouches full of coin.”

I didn’t know what these places were, though I could imagine them being Earth’s equivalent of 17
th
Century Nassau colony and Port Royal in Shard World. A pair of raucous places full of drinking and whoring.

“The other option...,” Zann began, making a falling motion with his hands, ending over the railing.

I didn’t want to go into the logistical difficulties the crew would experience trying to throw me overboard, but I understood the basic idea: join the crew, or it will get ugly. Then again, I had to push it; I wanted to see how easily they would turn against me.

“I beat you once, Zann,” I said, softening the menace with a smile.

He smiled too.

“It wouldn’t make me happy to do it,” he started, “and I don’t think it would be easy to lug your ugly arse over. But I’d get me and a couple of the boys, and yeah, we’d throw you over.”

“I guess that settles it, then. Count me in.”

Zann took me below deck and I joined the crew, and I can’t say I remembered a single one of their names as they welcomed me to their ranks. There was a guy with pinkish skin, like a naked bear with seething pustules around his ears, and a massive fellow that was mostly thick blue fur, a wide mouth, and eyes where a normal man’s chest would be, but he had no arms or head.

I also met an overly friendly anthropomorphic fox who had an additional second pair of limbs protruding from his face, and a creature with bold, black eyes that was tall and thin-skinned enough for me to see his muscles and inner organs. There was a stern orc, as if straight from Tolkien, except female, and just as tough as any of the others; and a wormy creature that appeared like viscous crimson fluid flowing in a watery solution, able to jet and move around with impressive agility. Another one was some sort of cheetah man, and I say that because of his pattern, because he was definitely a lion among lambs, tall and powerful. As impressive as Zann was, I was surprised they didn’t throw the cheetah guy at me. He was draped in sinewy muscle beneath the short fur, and at his sides hung a pair of cutlasses, which probably made him a dual-wielding skirmisher. His name, I caught: Skeetrix the Bold.

They led me to an open pit where a small stove heated the room poorly, and someone thrust a mug of a foul-smelling liquid into my hand. It tasted like refined dog piss and probably was. The others drank it too, and lots of it, for the stove upon closer inspection was a distillery, cobbled together from scrounged parts; but the alcohol was strong and plentiful.

“Blackjack here’s going to lead us in the fight, boys,” Zann beamed once everyone was gathered, and a loud cheer went up. “We can’t lose now!” he added.

Someone brought me a stool and a strong arm sat me down. Skeetrix sat across from me, watching me with a feral grin. Beside him, the orc-lady took a spot, close enough to him to denote a more than passing friendship.

“Is it true you destroyed the Mists by yourself?” she asked, and the raucous crew died down, all eager to hear my story. After a few seconds you could have heard a pin drop.

I laughed. “Big deal, is it?”

There was disbelief at first, then Zann exploded into laughter, joined by a few others, and moments later the whole deck was awash in it.

“We can’t lose, boys!” Zann repeated, and I saw a few nodding in agreement.

“What’s this mission you’re talking about?”

“Oh, no,” spoke the fox fellow, with a soft voice that I was almost too low to be heard over the crowd. “First you must tell us about the Mist Army. We came to scavenge the battlefield two weeks after you had gone, but there was little left then.”

“Just a wide scar on the land,” said Skeetrix, his speech difficult due to a mouthful of overgrown fangs. “As if a great god had wrought his vengeance upon the land.”

I couldn’t help but smile at how the story was told, how my foolish ride atop a mechanical behemoth was now a legend for these people. Part of me didn’t want to burst their bubble, tell them the truth: that I had just been a passenger for the ride, barely able to control the huge monstrosity that did most of the damage.

“Is it true you bested all of their lords in single combat?” asked the orc woman, whose intense demeanor would not break even as the others were awash in laughter.

“If you mean Dethregas, Varshantas, and the other guy, yeah.”

The crew laughed at my nonchalance, and I couldn’t help but find my spirits lifted in their company. We drank and ate and smoked until the machine could spit out the clear, noxious alcohol no longer. Few were still awake, and I told them the entire story, from the skirmishes approaching the village, to the grand battle against the entire army, to my capture and ultimate escape from the Lightbringers’ fortress. I told them the whole story, without leaving out any details, except one: I didn’t mention Apogee or the others.

Once everyone was drunk or sleeping, I came aloft and roamed the quarterdeck. I regretted not giving Cool and Apogee and Haha their fair due for their part in the battles, to Haha for playing an integral role in building the machine to return us home, to Cool for always being there when things were most dire, to Apogee, whose warmth and kindness opened my eyes, helped me understand myself. I didn’t want them to know about my friends. The loss of Cool Hand still felt fresh, and Haha for all of his alien detachment had grown on me. Apogee, who was most likely alive and well, was just as lost to me. I felt those pains as acutely as any wound I’d taken. Strange enough, it was Zundergrub I’d wanted to talk about least. His betrayal had cost me everything, but that I understood. He was insane and a villain. It was something so fundamental: I didn’t want to remind myself that I could have associated with such a monster, called myself a member of his company. But in another way, I knew that Zundergrub represented the darkness that could have overcome me, the shadowy path that I was barreling down until I met Apogee, until she had saved me.

But I didn’t want to be reminded of her, either.

I loved her, that much was true, and I was sure she had feelings for me, feelings tainted by the fact that I had killed her former lover and friend. Accidental or not, it didn’t matter. How could she see beyond that to the man I was becoming, rather the man I was? I had no way of knowing what she felt now, after all we had gone through, after we stood by each other when the world was coming to an end, after I had saved her, and she had saved me.

I had to find out, to talk to her, to hold her hand and see my reflection in her endless green eyes, see her smile at one of my clumsy jokes, feel her warmth once again.

I had to.

It all seemed so far away, and not just literally, since I was many lightyears from Earth. That part of my life seemed like a lifetime ago, and this was a new chapter, a new start for me. The clean start I could never get back home. On earth I was the villain, the cover boy for the ills of the world. I turned it around at the right moment and saved the world, almost in spite of myself, but that didn’t earn me anything except the blame. Who would give me another chance?

The fact was, I probably didn’t even deserve it.