Rise of the Retics (9 page)

“Greetings, Mr. Gnemo. My deepest gratitude for your incredible hospitality.”

“Gnemo is fine,” he responded with a slight nod. “No
Mr.
needed for me.”

“Wow, listen to her Gnemo. She’s so polite and well spoken. You could learn a thing or two from her. What a perfect little lady you are Tyranna, especially for a mixed-blooded child. Maybe you can teach those little brats back on the island a thing or two about manners. Did you know last time we were at dock one of those little miscreants actually threw a rotten cantaloupe at me? It exploded all over my head. I was picking seeds out of Stella’s hair for a week, and let me tell you she was not happy about it!” Brownstache shook his head slowly, clearly remembering the annoyance.

“Who is Stella?”

“Oh, no!” cried Gnemo. “Don’t use her name without—”

Before Gnemo could complete his statement, a tiny, shrill voice rang out.

“Who dares speak my name without my permission? Show yourself, you impudent fool! I demand to see what creature could possibly have the audacity to utter my name without the proper titles! I am not some common house rat to be spoken to in such a rude manner. I am Empress Stella, Queen of the Western Hairs, Ruler of the Greater Curls, and Lord Regent of the Left Nostril. Now I say again, and for the final time, who dares to address me with such disrespect?” Stella’s voice, though small and high pitched, spoke with a strong confidence.

“Aww, Stella. Leave her alone. She’s our guest on the ship.” The second tiny voice was far sweeter than the first. Tyranna noticed it had a folksy tone, not unlike the peasant farmers who sometimes came to Lipkos to trade.

Tyranna leaned to the side and peered through the doorway, trying to find where the voices were coming from. She looked around to Brownstache’s left and then his right but saw no one other than Gnemo and the admiral himself. Seeing the confusion on her face Gnemo pointed his finger toward Brownstache’s prominent facial hair. Popping out of each side of his gigantic moustache were two of the tiniest creatures Tyranna had ever seen. The creature on the admiral’s left side was female. She had long brown hair that matched her moustache home and wore a little tan dress. One the right, the creature was male and wore no more than a little, round straw hat. Though his bottom half was still buried in the moustache, he seemed to be completely naked. He also appeared to be chewing on a piece of hair that hung lazily out of the right side of his mouth. Though she should have been somewhat unsettled by the appearance of tiny people in a person’s facial hair, all Tyranna wanted to do was hug them.

“Awwww, they’re adorable,” Tyranna gushed to Brownstache as her eyes studied Stella. “What are they?” They looked like little dolls that could speak. She simply couldn’t imagine a cuter companion.

“Well, Tyranna,” Brownstache began, “they are —”

“Shhhhhh, Elf!” hissed Stella, “I will answer these questions. Is that understood? You are our home, not our speaker. The angry little creature gave the admiral a tiny slap on his cheek to reiterate her point. “You, stupid half-breed female, are very, very stupid. I am Queen Stella, ruler of this half of Moustache, and future ruler of all of the facial hair from one end of the cheek to the other. I am brownie—the most powerful of all the races, and of course the most beautiful, and the smartest, and the most ruthless, and also the best singers. The imbecilic hair farmer over there is my brother, Cletus. He is currently controller of the right nostril region, but I plan to invade and murder the villainous swine within the year.” She shook her tiny fist at Cletus, who continued to stand there chewing his piece of hair. He waved back with a smile.

“My apologies, Your Majesty,” snickered Tyranna, as she tried desperately to hold a straight face while talking to the tiny creature. “I certainly did not mean to offend you.”

“Shenanigans! A half-breed isn’t smart enough to offend a pureblooded brownie empress! Now tell me, you mixed-blood piece of filth, what is your name?”

“Stella, leave’r be now. There ain’t nothin’ wrong with being half-blooded. Try not to mind my sister here. She’s been like this ever since our mother tried to sell her to a traveling pack of gypsies. They thought she would bring them good luck, but for some reason they returned her within a fortnight. They didn’t even want no money back. She’s been ornery ever since.” As he spoke, Cletus strummed a tiny wooden banjo in a series of notes that in no way went together.

Tyranna was really taken aback by the comments being flung at her. Before she could even respond to the insults, Stella continued.

“Perhaps your mostly human mind isn’t able to remember your name because of your tiny, tiny brain. You should not try to remember too hard or else you will hurt yourself.” Stella laughed loudly at her joke, though no one else chimed in, except the admiral who gave a quick smile and a forced chuckle. Tyranna noticed that though Brownstache’s eyes were on Stella, he had completely stopped speaking. It was as if the proud admiral, so arrogant just a few moments before, was unwilling to anger his tiny tenant. Finally content that her joke had given enough offense, Stella stopped laughing. “Making you less stupid has tired me, little girl. I shall rest now. I will return later to give you another lashing of my tongue so that you understand how terrible it is that you even exist.” With that, the tiny brownie ducked back into her lair of hair.

“Try not to be too mindful of ol’ Stella,” advised Cletus in a slow and easy voice. Tyranna noticed that he wasn’t disturbed by Stella’s comments at all. He seemed to be used to her insults and threats of military incursion. “She’s a might bit territorial like. Even maybe a bit speciesist, but she’s a decent brownie deep down. We been through a lot in this here ‘stache, me and her, let me tell ya. First there was the Great Combing of ‘94—that was a whopper of a mess. And who could forget the Goat’s Milk Flood a year later. Nearly lost a leg in that one. Yup, we been through some tough times here in Moustache, but it’s our home and we love it.”

“They have been staying here for years,” offered Admiral Brownstache, suddenly willing to speak again now that Stella had disappeared. “Woke up one morning and found them living there. I tried everything I could to get the little chaps out, but they were tough. Then I noticed that the hairs looked stronger and shinier and the curls looped with a new found energy. Turns out the brownies are great little homemakers, or in this case, moustache makers, so we worked out a deal. They take care of my beautiful moustache, and as payment they can live there without problem. It’s a good deal for everyone.”

“Haha,” laughed Cletus, slapping his pale naked belly. “What the here admiral don’t like ta’ mention to you nice folk,” Cletus replied, “is that every time he tried to get Stella and me to leave, Stella used to hit him, real hard, right in his nose. Made him bleed a few times too. Made a real mess down here. Ever since then he don’t ever try to get ridda’ Stella no more. His face is our place.”.

“Admiral, while I’m sure Tyranna is enthralled by your tales, isn’t there some more important task you should be seeing to?” Gnemo seemed to sense Brownstache’s embarrassment and gave him a simple way out of the conversation.

“Ah, yes, Gnemo, of course. I almost forgot exactly how important I am. That’s why I have you here, to make sure I never forget how lost this crew would be without my leadership. Please give Tyranna a tour of the ship and introduce her to everyone. Except for McKensie. Don’t even speak to him, but make sure he knows that you’re not speaking to him.”

“Why can’t we converse with McKensie, sir?” inquired Gnemo.

“Because Gnemo, then he’ll wonder if he did something wrong and he’ll work harder. That’s called motivating your crew.” Brownstache shook his head like it should have been obvious.  “That’s why you’re just not admiral material, Gnemo. You haven’t learned to think outside the box. Now, go show our guest around.”

With no farewell of any type, Brownstache turned and walked away. As they departed, Tyranna could hear Stella’s tiny voice start up again, chastising him for treating Gnemo far too nicely. They waited for him to walk into his quarters before they began speaking again.

“Well,” Tyranna said slowly, fishing for the right words, “he’s interesting.”

“He’s the admiral,” replied Gnemo, as if that was enough to explain everything. “Shall we look around the ship?”

“Certainly.”

As Gnemo turned to lead Tyranna up the stairs to the top deck, a loud
BOOM
, thundered through the air. A second later,
The
Wild Rover
lurched to its port side, sending Tyranna and Gnemo flying painfully into the wooden hull.

“What was that?” Tyranna snapped.

“That, Tyranna,” answered Gnemo hastily as he jumped back to his feet, “is the sound of us under attack.” The small gnome was halfway up the ladder to the top deck before she had even registered what he had said.

Tyranna sighed. She had a feeling that today was going to be another very long day.

chapter
10

Regret

Jaxon

Rosehaven: Wrong Way Arena

October
17, 1503

Jaxon couldn’t believe how powerful his body felt. It was like every nerve was burning with a fiery excitement, ready to lash out at everything around him. At that moment, he felt no pain, no fear, and no weakness. He finally knew what it felt like to truly be demon.

And then, as suddenly as it began, it ended.

Jaxon dropped down to one knee, exhausted from the entire ordeal. The wound in his chest, though shallow, surged with sharp shooting pains. Blood spurted out, darkening his natural red skin color and ruining the clean bronze finish of his armor. He hoped it wasn’t his responsibility to return it the way he found it. He hated cleaning blood, especially his own. The sight of it actually made him a little nauseous.

Jaxon took a few deep breaths, trying hard to calm his lungs down after their exertion. It was at that point that he noticed his breathing was the loudest thing in the entire stadium. The crowd sat in stunned silence, trying to understand what they had just seen.               Magic wasn’t unheard of in Rosehaven, but it was very, very rare.
[19]
Most retics went their entire lives without seeing a single small trick, let alone a ball of flame erupting from a creature’s body.

Jaxon looked over at Samantha. She was curled up in ball, biting down hard with her two large front teeth to keep from screaming. Her tail was almost nonexistent, and her dark black leg hair was nearly completely burned away. Jaxon could see that the skin on her legs was almost as red as his own and had already started to blister. He watched as she writhed on the ground in pain, tears flowing from her huge almond colored eyes.

For the first time that he could remember, Jaxon felt guilty. He had always imagined hurting all these retics that hated him so much. For years all he wanted was to cause them pain, just to show how much stronger he, Rosehaven’s only demon-blooded resident, could be. He wanted to prove his strength, to earn their respect by causing them to fear him.

Now, looking down at the charred young squirrel-kin laying on the ground, a girl no older than he was, all he wanted was to take it back.

Jaxon tried desperately to urge his body to stand. For some reason, he felt he needed to check on his opponent, to help her in some way. He felt that it was the right thing to do, or so he believed, not having much experience with the sensation. Despite his best efforts, the shock of his chest wound, his exhaustion from the fight, and the heavy weight of his armor greatly slowed his movement. By the time he was on his feet, several retics had come down from their place in the stands. Samantha was surrounded by her father’s men, their swords drawn, while Dr. Kelda, the city’s physician, checked her out.

Jaxon, unsure what to do, started toward the group, but quickly found a huge brown haired hand holding him in place by his shoulder.

“We need to leave,
now
,” demanded a powerful, deep voice.

Jaxon had never heard William speak in such an agitated tone. He decided not to argue

Chapter
11

you can lead a horse to water,

but you can’t make him fly

Tyranna

Somewhere in the Atlantic Ocean

October
27, 1503

“Stay here, Tyranna. It could be dangerous up there.” Gnemo was already at the top of the ladder as he shouted his instructions down to her.

Normally, Tyranna listened to the instructions of her elders, but today was far from a normal day. She needed to know if the attackers were after her. She couldn’t bear to think that creatures she hardly knew were putting their lives at risk just to keep her safe.

Convinced that Gnemo was out of sight, she jumped up from the cabin floor and grabbed hold of the splintery wooden bannister that led up to the top deck. The stairs were steep and her exhausted muscles struggled with each step, but her desire for information pushed her on. Soon, her head had popped out of the cut-out to a scene she could never have even begun to imagine.

All about the deck, creatures stranger than anything in any story she had ever heard screamed back and forth to each other, relaying instructions and orders with incredible speed. To her left a huge beastlike creature with a humanoid body and the head of a bull handed out long maple colored muskets.

On her right side a creature with the torso of a well built, blond- haired man and the lower half of a shiny blue fish quickly worked to pull a series of ropes up. Tyranna was amazed by the speed with which he accomplished his task.

From just above her, a voice screamed out. She looked up to see a small winged creature about the size of Gnemo, but much thinner. The creature was obviously female, and though Tyranna had very little to compare her to, she was sure that she had to be the most beautiful woman in the entire world. Her skin had the color and complexity of fine porcelain, a perfect contrast to her bright auburn hair. Though almost a hundred feet away from the creature perched upon the mast, Tyranna could see that both her eyes and her wings were a glowing green like a bright-skinned lime.

Tyranna climbed the last few feet onto the deck. Looking around she immediately saw that the
Rover
was being flanked by two larger ships, both with large red sails flapping vigorously in the wind. Each sail had the fire engulfed, pierced heart of the Coalition.

Both the Coalition ships, like the
Rover
, were a busy mixture of wood, nets, sails and ropes, making it difficult to distinguish where one piece of the ship began an another ended.  Tyranna could, however, see two very distinguishable traits. First was the unique wood carved figurehead each ship had on its bow. They were both female, long haired, and topless, but with the talons of a bird extending out in front of the boat as if they were trying to attack the horizon. Both figures also had a set of thick feathered wings and an expression on their face that showed off two rows of sharp, gnashed teeth. If it was meant to intimidate the enemy, Tyranna considered its job well done.

The second thing she noticed put the figureheads to shame when it came to the intimidation department. Quickly counting, Tyranna saw that there were eleven open hatches on each ship, each one with a matching black, iron cylinder that felt like it was pointing directly at her head.

“This is my fault,” she mumbled. Two more loud explosions pierced the air. Tyranna watched as the crew ducked and covered their heads in unison, but neither cannonball hit close enough to do any harm.. She turned to climb back down into the safety of the cabin when she heard Brownstache’s loud baritone voice call out.

“Gnemo, get that girl out of here, now. A warship is no place for a child!”

“Warship? When did we become a warship? I thought we were privateers?” The sarcastic retort came from the bull-man. He had a big smile on his face, like he was greatly enjoying the moment.

“Depends on the day, Aster . . . and how much they’re paying us!” The response came from a short broad-shouldered creature, with a shaggy black beard and arms that were just as hairy.

Tyranna didn’t understand the joke at all, but it made the crew chuckle, which made her feel much better. Maybe she was overreacting to the multitude of cannons pointed at them. Perhaps this wasn’t that bad of a situation.

Another series of booming explosions, followed immediately by water splashing over the side of the
Rover
changed her mind back very quickly. The shots were definitely getting closer.

“Come on Tyranna, come with me”. Gnemo grabbed her hand and began pulling her toward the bow of the ship. He let out a series of sharp whistles.

“What are you doing?” she asked, just as confused as she was afraid.

“Getting us out of here,” The gnome replied, looking toward the sky.

Tyranna followed his eyes to the fluffy white clouds above. She saw a small blur of movement erupt from the sky and head toward them at an immense speed. It seemed to her to be a large white bird with a humongous wingspan, until it landed with a soft thud in front of them.

Tyranna gasped as she looked at the large winged horse standing before her.

He was as large as any beast she had ever seen, almost twice her height at his shoulder. His wings were just as enormous, reaching well over twenty feet in each direction and casting a monstrous shadow over the bow of the ship as he landed. He was primarily a crème color, with dark black spots covering his entire body. His mane and tail seemed to bring his color variations together into a mixed up smoky gray, with white and black highlights to make it stand out.

“He’s magnificent,” Tyranna exclaimed, momentarily forgetting the metal spheres of death flying through the air. 

Gnemo hopped upon the beast’s back with a spryness Tyranna never would have guessed the gnome possessed..

Boom
!

Another cannon ball launched through the air, this one landing just feet from the bow of the
Rover
. The splash poured over the side of the ship, soaking Tyranna’s pants and boots.

“Ok, flying horse it is,” she decided quickly grabbing Gnemo’s hand for the needed boost up.

“Hold on tight, Tyranna,” cried Gnemo as he wrapped his own small hands around the sides of the horse’s muscular neck.

If there was ever advice that was completely unnecessary, Gnemo’s would have been it. Tyranna clenched her arms around Gnemo’s waist, holding on like her life depended on it . . . because it did.

Despite her strong grip, she still nearly fell off as the horse launched himself into the air, the force of the initial gust of wind hitting her right in the face and chest. Gnemo’s small stature was doing very little to block the wind.

As they continued to soar into the sky, Tyranna was able to reposition herself into a steadier seat. She opened her eyes to the world below her and to the overwhelming view of her first battle.

It was terrifying and exhilarating. Beneath her, the two larger Coalition ships closed in on the
Rover
, one coming up from each side of Brownstache’s vessel. Tiny little specs scurried around all three decks, each boat quickly preparing for the impending melee.

“Oh, No!” cried Gnemo.

“What’s wrong?” Tyranna replied, concerned at the tone of his voice.

Gnemo just pointed down at the bow of the first Coalition ship. Tyranna’s gaze followed the path his finger was tracing. Below her, the ornately carved figurehead on the ship’s bow was beginning to change. It started to move slowly at first, but it picked up speed as the seconds went by. The matching figure on the second ship was doing the same.

Tyranna watched as their long plush wings unfurled and their sharp teeth and talons began to gleam with sharp, deadly life.

“What are they?” Tyranna inquired loudly in Gnemo’s ear.

“Gargoyles. Creatures that can turn from wood or stone into flesh and back again. The Coalition has been training them for hundreds of years. Animal intelligence, but very, very dangerous. If they catch us, they could tear us to pieces in a few seconds.” 

Tyranna did not like the sound of that. She was quite happy being in one piece and had no desire to change. “What are we going to do?” she asked, a hint of panic in her voice. As nice as Gnemo was she would have given anything for Branchy to be there with her instead of the little gnome. He did not inspire confidence in her the way the tree-ent had.

“We’re going to hold on. Melvin’s going to do the rest.” Gnemo patted the horse on the side of his neck. He let out a powerful whinny that could be clearly heard over the sound of the battle. Hearing the creature’s mighty battle roar helped alleviate Tyranna’s anxiety for a moment.

That, however, changed very quickly.

Turning to face his incoming attackers, Melvin decided to take the fight to them instead. Flapping his powerful wings twice, he broke into a dive, heading straight at the approaching gargoyles.

Tyranna yelped. She expected go in the other direction, not toward the vicious looking creatures.

His move took them by surprise. It was clear they weren’t used to having their prey charge directly at them. Prey can be scary when it doesn’t act afraid.

He lowered his head and picked up speed. He was heading straight for a gargoyle, his mighty wings stretched out, gliding quickly toward their attacker.

But he was just a bit too slow. The gargoyles deftly dodged to the side, rolling in the air like a pair of synchronized swans. Had she not been scared to look directly at them, Tyranna might have even called them graceful. They stopped completely in mid-air, and pivoted around to become their pursuers again.

“He’s not used to fighting with riders!” screamed Gnemo, fighting the wind to get his message through. “We’re slowing him down!”

The gargoyles were gaining on them again. Their sharp talons glinted in the sunlight as they got closer and closer.

Tyranna watched Gnemo whisper something in the ear of the horse and it began to descend back toward the
Rover
.

Maybe he’s going to drop us down so he can fight
,
she thought, not sure what was worse, being chased by two bloodthirsty gargoyles or drowning in the cold waters below when the ship went down.

Tyranna clenched harder around Gnemo as she heard the beat of the gargoyles feathered wings. The gap between them was almost entirely gone.

She turned her body to get a better look at the attackers. She wanted to know just how much time they still had.

It was a good idea. It allowed her the half second she needed to pull her face away from the piercing talon swiping at her head.

The second one tore at her leg, ripping her new pants, and carving three deep scratches into her leg.

“AHHHHHHHH!” Tyranna screamed. The pain shot through her entire body.

“NOW!” screamed Gnemo.

Taking his cue, the horse stopped midair and turned his body so that his head was facing the water. They dove straight down.

“Hold your breath, Tyr,” Gnemo advised.

“Hold my what?” she screamed back, not hearing anything the gnome said at such breakneck speed.

The gargoyles quickly regrouped and were back in pursuit, fooled only for a short time by their mid-air maneuver.

Tyranna realized they were very quickly approaching the water.

“
Wait a second, she yelled, “did you just say—”. They plunged into the water, which was far colder out at sea than it had been at the shore. Unprepared for the dip into the ocean, water flooded into her mouth and nose while the force of the impact took away any chance she had of getting a breath ready.

As Melvin deftly swam through the ocean, Tyranna fought her burning lungs as saltwater seeped into places it should never go
.

Perhaps I could change back into a fish
?
What do I do? Of yeah, just think about the fish
.

It was at that moment that they exploded out of the water and began to climb back into the air at a rapid pace.

Stop thinking about being a fish! Stop thinking about being a fish
!

Tyranna rubbed the water out of her eyes as she coughed out the bits of seawater that had invaded her system. They were only a few feet off the stern of the
Rover
, the battle raging just below them. The retics charged across boarding planks onto the Coalition ship seeming fierce and battle hardened. The humans looked terrified. After being nearly sliced in half, Tyranna didn’t feel at all bad for the Coalition sailors. Though, that in itself made her feel a bit guilty.

“Fayte!” Gnemo screamed at the top of his lungs. “Gargoyles, coming fast! From the water!”

Tyranna watched as the faerie leapt from her position in the crows-nest and flew toward them, her bow nocked and at the ready.

The first gargoyle broke through the surface of the water, her pursuit slowed, but not broken. The look on her face showed that she was clearly not happy with the underwater chase.

An arrow though her eye sent the body of the gargoyle sprawling down into the depths of the cold, unforgiving ocean.