Firehurler (Twinborn Trilogy) (45 page)

Kyrus was amid a dozen or so men—pirates, he
supposed—and was nominally being offered a choice.

“What would happen if I said ‘no’? Would you slit my
throat and dump me in the harbor?”

“We would hardly have to. Just leaving you behind is a
death sentence,” Denrik said.

“It seems I have little choice but to accept,” Kyrus
said.

“Well now, you do have choices, and many more than you
think. You could turn yourself in, betray us, and plead for leniency for
helping recapture someone far more dangerous than yourself. You could sneak
off, stow away on a trade ship, and hope to hide out until you get to Feru Maru
to start a new life as a fisherman. You could disappear into the city, try and
remake yourself as one of the shadow merchants hereabouts. You could even try
using that magic of yours to burn the city down; you are raw, but you have a
lot of power in you.

“No, what I offer you is not your only choice, but
your only good solid choice,” Denrik said. “The Acardian Navy took my ship and
sank it, since none of theirs would sully themselves at the wheel of it. The
Acardian magistrates took three years of my life and kept me from all the
wealth I had accumulated in my years at sea. Think about what they are taking
from you: your home, your possessions, your livelihood. I am doing something about
it; I am taking back what I can. I give you the opportunity to do the same, to
take a new life to replace what you have lost. It will not be the same, but it
is yours to make of it what you will.

“The same goes for the rest of you. Most of you have
never tried a hand at piracy. Some have sailed ships, and some have killed and
robbed for money, but all of you have the chance, tonight, to start anew.”

“I … suppose I can give it a try,” Kyrus said, not
making eye contact with Denrik.

Piracy was not exactly what he had planned as an
alternative to the gallows or the stake. Then again, what careers were
available to someone deemed a witch and seen as a threat to the natural order
of society merely for living?

“Mr. Hinterdale, I see you think yourself a good man.
I saw the way you looked at those dead guards at the jailhouse, like you had
never seen a dead body. You need to harden this in here,” Denrik poked Kyrus in
the chest, “or the world is going to chew you up and swallow you. The world
comprises sharks and chum. We here are sharks.”

“I have seen death before. I have killed more than you
might guess. I just never reveled in a man’s death, or blocked it from my
heart,” Kyrus said just above a whisper. More loudly, he continued: “But I
suppose that will change in joining with you. Killing is easy enough, but I
still hope never to get used to it.”

Kyrus was bluffing a bit, but he had all of Brannis’s
memories in him, and if he could draw on those experiences to give himself a
measure of credibility among these shark-like men, he would do so.

*
* * * * * * *

Denrik was taken aback a bit. He had always been a
shrewd judge of men and could tell a liar better than most. The lad seemed to
have as little guile as Andur, yet his claims seemed outrageous. Perhaps the good
folk of Scar Harbor had reason enough to wish death on this “witch” after all,
without even realizing it.

*
* * * * * * *

Grosh had been keeping watch, but as the hour
approached, everyone moved near the half-open warehouse door and watched for
the signal. Kyrus was at the back of the group, along with Denrik. Neither of
them felt the particular need to watch, Denrik because it was exactly the sort
of thing that one had crews for, and Kyrus because he just was not that eager
to go. They had explained the general thrust of the plan, and really that
seemed to be about all there was to it.

They were to wait for Mr. Stalyart’s brother, one of
the night watchmen on the ship, to give them a signal that meant he had
eliminated the other man on watch duty with him. Then they would race onto the
ship and overpower however many men were left on board while the rest were
drinking, gambling, and whoring the night away. Then they would sail off with
the ship. It seemed far too simple to work, but when Kyrus considered the sort
of men that were a party to this heist, he wondered how complex a plan they
might carry out properly.

Mr. Crispin gave a wave in their direction, the signal
that all was prepared. Stalyart signaled back to Denrik, and Captain Zayne gave
the order: “Keep quiet and move, quickly. No running, but keep it moving.”

The would-be pirates poured out of the warehouse,
disorderly but with a single purpose among them. Their shoes clomped along on
the wooden boards of the pier as they made their way to the gangplank, playing
a percussive symphony. Kyrus was swept along in their wake, with only Denrik
behind him, taking up the rear guard position.

Despite living in a port city for several years, Kyrus
had never found reason to set foot on board a ship before. The gangplank was
intimidating—a long, narrow board with no handrails or ropes to hold onto. It
was perhaps as wide as he was tall, but felt all the narrower for having
nothing to catch himself on if he were to slip on the steep slope. There were
wooden ribs at regular intervals, but Kyrus found them to be less than
comforting as a safety measure.

Once he made it onto the deck, the small group had
congregated around Stalyart’s brother, Mr. Crispin. He was on watch duty,
wearing his navy sailor’s cap and heavy coat to keep out the chill. Tight to
his body he held a long knife, similar to the ones that the rest of the pirates
were drawing all around him. It was an unnerving sight, even if logically Kyrus
knew that the last thing they planned was to drag him up here just to kill him.

“The captain is asleep in his quarters,” Crispin
whispered as Denrik, Stalyart, and a few others leaned in to listen. “The other
watchman is in the head, dead.”

“Crispin, lead the rest belowdecks. Forestall any
alarm by acting as if you just came back from shore and have your own men with
you. Let surprise do most of the work for you,” Denrik said and then set them
off to take care of the crew.

Kyrus watched with a sense of dread and detachment as
Tawmund, Marshfield, and a few others whose names he had not gathered yet all
headed down to murder the crew.

“Mr. Holyoake, Mr. Stalyart, get the ship free of her
moorings, then raise the sails. Mr. Hinterdale, when the sails are up, can you
raise the anchor?” Denrik asked, honestly questioning his abilities rather than
making the order optional just for him.

“Um, of course. You … I mean, you do want me to do it
with magic, right? Otherwise I shall revise my answer,” Kyrus replied.

“Very well, then, do it, soon as I give the command,
or Stalyart does,” Denrik said.

“Uhh, where is the anchor?” Kyrus asked. He was
entirely new to this, and while he knew what an anchor was, he did not know
where on the ship it tied up … or bolted … or coiled, or whatever one did with
them when they were not anchoring the ship.

“Starboard bow,” Denrik called back as he headed for
the rear of the ship where the captain’s cabin lay.

Kyrus looked on as Holyoake and Stalyart went around
with small axes and hacked away at the moorings. He wondered if he ought to ask
them if he was correct in thinking that starboard with the right side of the
ship; he knew that the bow was the front. Kyrus heard someone down below on the
docks notice that something was amiss, and all thought of asking for
clarification fled his mind.

“Hey, what you doin’ up there?” he heard.

Kyrus rushed to the side of the ship to see what was
happening. A man in navy sailor’s garb was sprinting down the pier back toward
the taverns and brothels where presumably he would find his fellows and rally
them against the intruders.

Kyrus grew worried. He was now caught between the
Acardian Navy and Captain Zayne—
the
Captain Zayne—and things seemed
headed for a collision. The thought flickered in his mind to possibly sell out
the pirates and try his luck with the magistrates again, but it never took
hold.

No, whether I like it or not, they have made me their
enemy. I will find no comfort with them. These may be wicked men—no, these
are
wicked men I find myself with, but only for
now. I will ride out this storm and see where I come out of it. If Captain
Zayne has magic, I will learn it, and I will get myself the skills I will need
to rid myself of his company. I will swallow this bitter elixir and hope that
it will cure me rather than kill me.

Kyrus moved quickly to Stalyart’s side. “We have been
found out. Hurry, and I will do what I can to delay them.”

“Very good, Mr. Hinterdale. You earn a place here,”
Stalyart said.

Stalyart moved to the rigging after cutting the last
of the moorings. Along with Holyoake, they were making good time in getting the
ship prepared for a hasty departure.

Suddenly there was a shout from the end of the pier.
Kyrus crouched low and looked over the bulwark, doing his best to avoid being
seen. There looked to be about two dozen men—navy from the uniforms most
wore—making all haste for the gangplank. Kyrus had promised to do what he could
to hold them off, and he knew he had little time to act.

“Haru bedaessi leoki kwatuan gelora,”
and Kyrus swept his hands up. He had managed to lift
furniture in his shop when the constables arrived to arrest him. Captain Zayne
had been impressed with how strong his iron-melting spell had been. It was time
for Kyrus to see just how much he could squeeze out of his powers.

As the first of the sailors was about to set foot on
the gangplank, it was yanked from beneath him. With a yelp and a splash, one
fewer assailant was trying to board. Kyrus lifted the plank and twisted it in
the air, orienting it crossways to the pier and up on its side. He held it at
thigh height to keep it above the piles and began moving it down the length of
the pier, sweeping men out of its path. Kyrus angled it slightly so that it
scraped the mob of sailors off the far side of the pier and into the water. A
few of the more nimble ones managed to duck under it as it passed, and several
more retreated back down the pier, but many were dumped unceremoniously into
the harbor.

Kyrus, despite his fears, could not help but enjoy
using his magic openly and to such great effect. He swept the gangplank back
down the pier in the other direction, spinning it as it went, knocking even the
more nimble of the sailors into the water.

A shot rang out, and the wood of the bulwark just to
Kyrus’s right splintered.

Well, fun time seems to be over.

He ducked back down behind cover. “Is that gangplank
ours, Mr. Stalyart?” Kyrus shouted across the deck.

“Anything is ours if we wish to take it,” Stalyart
shouted back.

It was a poetic bit of optimism but unhelpful. Kyrus
supposed that if gangplanks were supposed to remain with the pier then they
could just throw it overboard later. He recalled it and set it down on the deck
a few feet from himself.

“Captain, we are under sail,” Stalyart shouted.

All pretense of stealth was gone now. The ship had
lurched and begun to slowly inch away from its berth. Stalyart and Holyoake
were working frantically to raise more sails, having just one to catch wind
thus far. No one was yet at the helm, and they appeared to be banking a very
mild turn as they got under way.

Captain Zayne came sprinting from the rear castle of
the ship. “Mr. Hinterdale, get that anchor up,
now!
” he shouted.

Oops, anchor. Right.

Kyrus rushed over to the bow and found the chain that
headed out the side of the ship and into the harbor. While no nautical expert
was he, Kyrus nonetheless knew what an anchor was. He grabbed for the chain,
the only way he knew how.

“Haru bedaessi leoki kwatuan gelora,”
and up it came.

He had to cast the spell twice more to get a “grip”
farther down and bring the anchor safely to rest. There was a great thunderous
crash as he let the chains drop to the deck.

“Mr. Hinterdale, get up here,” Captain Zayne shouted
again. He had taken the wheel and was guiding the freed ship out of its berth
at roughly a walking pace. “Look over there. The navy crew are commandeering
that merchant ship in the next berth. They mean to take up pursuit. That ship
is armed, and we do not have enough men to put up a fight yet. I will show you
this once. Then you use it on the sails.

“Eehu dolkavi esfenetor gelex ajihru,”
and Captain Zayne thrust one hand forward, palm
facing out, with his fingers spread and making a claw-like gesture.

Kyrus watched and thought maybe he felt a little
breeze. Based on the captain’s comment about using it on the sails, he could
only assume it was to make wind.

So this is how it will be? You need something done and
you will show me a spell for it. How much are you going to hold back?

Kyrus nodded to affirm that he had gotten it, and
Captain Zayne took the wheel again in both hands. He looked over and saw that
there was a riot of activity on the vessel on their left—port—side, and the
ship certainly looked formidable. Kyrus could see the little trapdoors where
the cannons hid in the sides, and the sails looked very large and suited for
wind-catching. Their own new ship was a navy vessel, though, and ought to be
just as formidable. It might not be running with a full crew, but Kyrus
supposed that was why they seemed so glad to have him along.