The Grimm Chronicles, Vol. 2 (28 page)

The captain reached up and plucked the gold coin from its place above the door, showing it to the gathered sailors. Even those who were still working the sails and the ropes around the masts stopped to look.

“In this vale of Death,” the captain said, “we see nary but gloom … but the sun of Righteousness shines like a beacon of hope. We can narrow our eyes, searching the dark vale in hopes that we might see light, and snatch some sweet solace from it. But here on these waters we gaze for light in vain!” He put the coin in the pocket of his waistcoat. “The coin is mine. As are you all. Now get all my sails tied down so we can keep up with this hellion!”

The sailors dispersed. A cold hand landed on my shoulder. I turned and saw Ishmael’s solemn face. He didn’t want to do any of this. Whatever curse was infecting the other sailors, the shadows had yet to slip in between his bones. There was still something human about him.

“Captain Ahab,” he said quietly. “Would it not benefit us to let the hero kill the whale?”

The captain raised one thin eyebrow. Ahab? He’d taken that name on purpose, I bet.

“The fish is mine,” Ahab growled. “I’ve not come all this way to let the hero have the glory. I want my revenge. I’ve killed enough creatures in the seven seas to earn this.”

“You haven’t earned anything,” I told him angrily. “You don’t
earn
anything when you senselessly kill defenseless creatures.”

The captain cocked his head. “A tongue on this hero, I see. But thou understands me not. My hatred for this fish has driven me since the day he took away my wishes. Since then, I’ve killed fish out of pure hatred. I’ve killed whales because they remind me of the fish. I’ve torn apart jellyfish simply to pass the time at sea. That this one fish has lurked beneath my feet for so long infuriates me to no end. I want revenge on him and all the rest, for they are all my enemies.”

“I’ll stop you.”

He smiled. The wind blew his ghoulish gray hair out of place. “So ye say. I ask ye, hero: do ye want the boy in my cabin to die?”

“No,” I choked out.

“Then you’ll craft for me three barbs. “You’ll make them to my specifications. Understand, girl? I want something that will stick in the whale like his own fin-bone. Can ye do that, dear hero?”

“If you show me,” I said.

The captain smiled. His bony hand touched my shoulder, guiding me to the hatch. We went down into the bowels of the ship, through the slimy hold that smelled like dead fish, past the butcher’s block where in my dream a sailor had been gutting a whale. Now that whale’s blubber was lighting the lanterns that swung from their nails on the wooden support beams. At the far end of the ship was the iron furnace, lit and burning hot. A blacksmith covered in soot stood beside a barrel of water and an iron anvil next to the furnace.

He clutched his hammer, watching us approach. I walked carefully in my magic boots, not willing to tip my hand just yet.

“Give me twelve steel rods,” Ahab ordered. “Pick the strongest you have.”

The blacksmith nodded, setting his hammer on the anvil. The ship rocked gently to the right as it changed course slightly. Why wasn’t the whale trying to escape? I wondered.

From under the worktable the blacksmith produced twelve thin rods that were each slightly taller than me. The blacksmith was wearing a black rubber apron, his face caked with dirt. He had a bushy mustache and terrified, bright white eyes. Almost human. Was he the most recent cursed sailor to join the captain’s crew?

“Shall I twist the rods?” he asked.

“Nay,” said Ahab with a snarl. “I’ll do it myself! And when I’m done I’ll curse the steel while the hero crafts my barbs. Show her what I want.”

The blacksmith reached under the table, producing a terrifying-looking barb. It was jagged, like a fish hook, cold and heavy in my hands. I coughed away the smoke from the furnace.

“Well?” Ahab asked. “Can ye make it or not, hero?”

I nodded, holding up my bound wrists. Ahab grabbed the barb from my hand and in one swift motion cut through the rope. He turned and threw all twelve of the rods into the little furnace. I looked at Ishmael, who was standing beside the nearest lantern as if afraid to step into any of the shadows.

I didn’t blame him.

I walked over to the anvil and pulled the fountain pen from my purse. I uncapped it and drew three barbs, pulling each one from the anvil’s surface when it was complete. The blacksmith watched nervously, stepping away from the hot fires of the furnace and wiping sweat from his face.

“You Corrupted sure do enjoy your dark, cramped quarters,” I muttered.

The captain ignored me, pulling the red-hot steel rods from the furnace and setting them on the wooden workbench. He banged them together with a massive hammer that rang in my ears, then began twisting the hot steel, using his hook to hold them down. When his bare skin touched the hot steel rods, a sickening hissing sound filled the room. Then I smelled it. I nearly puked. I wiped the sweat from my forehead, watching him work. It took only a few minutes, an inhuman amount of time to twist the rods together into one long, reinforced spear. All it needed was the pointy part.

“The barbs,” he ordered, holding out his burned palm. I grabbed the barbs, flipping them around so the sharp end was aimed at his soft blue skin. His hand drew back. He cackled. “Careful now, hero.”

I flipped the barbs over. He grabbed them and immediately his hand began to burn. He quickly placed them on the tip of the spear between the twisted metal rods and set the spear on the table, hammering the barbs into place.

He held up his spear. It was the perfect weapon for a Corrupted: only the sharp tip had been made with my magic pen. As long as the captain clutched the base of his spear, it wouldn’t burn him.

“Who will give me their blood to temper this?” he asked.

Ishmael and the blacksmith remained silent. Ahab laughed and looked at me. “How about you, little hero?”

“Don’t even try it,” I snapped.

“Then the glory is mine,” he said, cutting the skin on his arm with one yellow fingernail. A few drops of dark blood streamed out, landing on the razor-sharp barbs.

“Gawd, you are
so
melodramatic,” I said.

Ahab glared at me, then pointed to the ladder under the hatch. “Up ye go, lass. It’s time to see just how good yer drawing skills are.”

I walked with Ishmael, praying that the captain wouldn’t stab me with his spear just yet. All I needed was one chance. One chance to draw a weapon of my own and level the playing field.

All of a sudden, the ship seemed to slow. The lanterns stopped swinging. Ishmael looked to his right, as if he’d seen something in the shadows. Then, suddenly, the hull of the ship groaned and the boat lurched violently, knocking us all off our feet. Water leaked in slowly between cracked boards.

“Patch her up!” Ahab shouted to the blacksmith. He pointed his spear. “Up! Up! The whale calls me into battle! I can hear its song in my ears and taste its blood on my tongue!”

“That’s probably
your
blood,” I muttered, hurrying up the ladder. The jolt had caused my teeth to clatter together and my body was still shaking. The whale was strong and the
Leviathan
… well, she wasn’t exactly in the prettiest shape. A few more hits like that and we’d all be swimming home.

On deck, the sailors were hurrying from mast to mast. The wooden boards were wet. Ropes were being hurriedly tied down. The foremast had a long, diagonal crack along its surface and the sails were flapping in the wind, their ropes either ripped apart or torn loose by the impact.

One of the men had lit a lantern, shining it on the black water to better see the giant whale. The other shadowy sailors cowered on the port side of the boat, at least temporarily fearing the whale more than their captain. Ahab reached out and grabbed the lantern from the sailor’s shaking hand, then turned and began to advance upon his terrified crew. “Listen to me!” he called out. “You are bound to me! Until this infernal creature is dead, you are my wards in body and soul, lungs and life! The curse which carries us is also our finest weapon, for we are
immortal
! So with this flame I extinguish the last vestige of your humanity. Give yourself to my cause, and help me slay this beast once and for all!”

He blew out the lantern’s flame. The shoulders of the shadowy sailors seemed to slump a bit more, as if a heavy weight had landed on their backs. The terror slipped out of their faces, replaced by … nothing. With blank expressions, they returned to readying the nets.

“She’s coming again!” someone cried out. Ahab ran to the starboard bulwark, digging his hook into the railing just as the whale crashed into the ship again. I landed on the deck with a thud, feeling my palms scrape on the rotten wet wood.

“Get her into my cabin!” the captain ordered. He glared at me. “Pray this spear ends this once and for all, lass. Or we die tonight.”

“You’re going to kill me anyway,” I muttered.

He grunted. “Might be. Or maybe I’ll let the curse take you instead. We could use a good deck scrubber.”

Ishmael led me to the cabin, tying up my hands behind my back with a fresh piece of rope and throwing me into the captain’s cabin. “I’m sorry,” he said before shutting the door.

“Yeah, thanks,” I muttered, kneeling in front of Chase’s unconscious body and checking him for wounds. He looked OK—just unconscious. Maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing under the circumstances.

I looked around. It was dark, but with the full moon shining in through the rear windows, my eyes adjusted enough to make out more than shadows. The captain’s cabin was spacious, filled with all sorts of trinkets no doubt collected over the past 200 or so years. On his desk were statues of horses and warriors and gods and goddesses, each one intricately carved out of wood or ivory, most lying on their sides. On the wooden walls were paintings; two stuffed lions guarded opposite corners of the room, and a grandfather clock with a massive face and silver hands in the third corner, nailed down at its base. There was a chest beside the old desk, lined with brass trim, and another much bigger one made of older, rotted wood sitting next to me by door.

Nothing sharp. Nothing to cut this rope binding my wrists behind my back. I paced, searching for something, anything that I could use to get out of this. “Come on!” I shouted, stamping my foot on the old faded Turkish rug covering the floor.

“Ahem.”

I turned back to the door. Chase was still out cold, lying on the floor.

“Ahem!”

My heart nearly jumped through my ribcage. I hurried over to the old rotting wooden chest, nearly falling as the ship rocked again. I turned, fumbling blindly with the brass latch.

The top flew open. Briar popped up, smoothing out his vest. “I do say! A more uncomfortable experience I cannot imagine. Although there was that time in Egypt when I was chased on a camel …”

“Briar! I’ve never been so happy to see a giant rabbit untie me so I can hug you!” I shouted.

The rabbit glanced at the door. “Er … we should probably be quiet. I’m not sure how much you know about this ship, but those sailors aren’t exactly from Her Majesty’s Naval Force.”

I turned around. “Just untie me already.”

“Right-o.”

I felt the rope loosen. I threw it aside and spun around, hugging Briar. “How did you get aboard? How did you end up in here?”

“Dear
hero
!” he said in an offended tone. “I’m a
trickster
. You think this is the first ship I’ve snuck aboard? No. Really, the most difficult part was following Chase around. After receiving your email, I tailed him—pardon the pun—to the docks, and assumed it would only be a matter of time before the hero showed up. I didn’t expect a ship full of crazies, though.”

I squeezed his soft shoulders. “I’m sorry. For everything.”

His furry ears perked up. “If you would have just let me speak and
listened
to me, I could have
told
you …”

“It doesn’t matter now.”

“But it
does
,” Briar said. His paws found his vest again, nervously smoothing out the wrinkles. “You see, this particular fish has crossed paths with a hero before. He granted a hero’s wish to no longer be the hero. But you see, in granting the wish … well, that is to say, being the hero doesn’t simply
pass
from one person to the other. Not until the current hero is
dead
.”

The breath in my lungs escaped in one fast whoosh. “You mean …”

“I mean that in granting the hero’s wish, the magic fish simply ensured that an unfortunate accident occurred. Killing the hero thus ensured that he was, technically speaking, no longer the hero.”

“I would have died.”

Briar nodded. The boat rocked violently again. What few statues on the captain’s desk that hadn’t already been knocked over now came crashing to the ground. I tripped over Chase, nearly landing on top of him. Briar fell beside me, one ear flopping over onto my head. “Not to hammer the point home by any means,” he said, “but when you tell me to stop talking, I really
must
obey. No matter how dire the circumstances.”