The Merman and the Barbarian Pirate (4 page)

The tall kluggite flicked his gaze to Haverford's hand poised on the weapon and arched a fine brow. "Haverford, do you not know who I am? Does the name Jon Kemp mean nothing to you?"

"The dreaded Pirate Kemp!" Haverford dropped to his knees, yanked the sheathed dagger free, and cast it across the rocky floor. He hurled down the ruby ring, which he wore on his little finger. "Take it and be gone, you villain."

The skinny kluggite snatched up the offerings, and Raef balled his fists. Kemp set a ruggedly handsome face as flint and towered over Haverford. He wasn't anything like the thick-set, brutish kluggites that Raef had pictured, which baffled Raef and scared him, too.

"Much obliged," said Kemp, as calm as if they'd closed a transaction over a basket of mussels. "But understand that this is but an opening volley. I know the truth of your lies and your black heart. You will pay your debts and more."

With that, he turned and leaped across the surf and onto some slippery rocks, vaulting as nimbly as a diving dolphin. His associates backed off more warily, the skinny one possessing the audacity to jab the stolen dagger in Haverford's direction. Only when all three had clambered out of sight—doubtless returning to some vessel moored near the rocks—did Haverford scramble to his feet, shaking his fist after.

"You barbarian," he hollered. "You coward, Kemp! I'll have my ruby back, then stand on my balcony and watch you hanged from one of the trees on my lawn. You won't best me!"

His eyes smoldered with hatred, his face flushed crimson. The wind lashed his styled hair beyond the point of ruin, the ribbon flying off and straight out to sea. Terrified, Raef ducked well out of sight. When he peeped again, Haverford had traversed the cliff face and was pushing the boat back into the breakers.

At the prospect of even another day of dreaming and loneliness, Raef felt like sobbing. He craved strong arms about him, to offer comfort … yet he dared not go after his lord tonight. Haverford had been so angry, and who could blame him? The kluggite had said Haverford had a black heart and debts to pay. It was proof of the pirate's stupidity. A lord with riches like Haverford wouldn't be in debt to anyone.

What was it Haverford had called Kemp? Oh, yes: a barbarian. Raef had never heard the word before, but it had a rough and pointed ring to it that suited.

He smoothed his damp hair and dragged himself to his feet, so he could look across the bay. Haverford had moored his boat back at the jetty and was stalking into the gloaming. He had gone without even noticing Raef was there. After working up the courage to reveal himself to Haverford, Raef had missed him. There was nothing he could do except wait in solitude 'til another chance came along… or was there? As his emotions bubbled and fermented, a plan took shape, which excited and frightened him in equal measures.

The theft offered Raef a chance to
earn
Lord Haverford's attention, rather than to trust in fate and hope he'd be accepted. He'd go after the kluggites and seek Haverford's revenge. It would be a risk, but he'd resolved to act tonight, so he would, albeit in a different fashion to that he'd intended. He knew every feature of this coast. He'd find their ship, steal back that ruby ring, and return it to Haverford. Then he'd climb up the ivy that plastered the façade of Haverford's castle and find the lord sleeping in a bower. He mightn't possess the courage to wake Haverford with a kiss, as he would've in his fantasies, but he'd gift Haverford back his jewel. If he chose his actions and words carefully, it could be the start of the great romance he sought.

Or he might be captured and killed by the kluggites.

Raef flexed his cold toes in lieu of his tailfins, fighting the clutches of fear. Kemp had come across as… sharper of wit than he'd imagined a kluggite to be. He must tread carefully, that was certain. To win Haverford's admiration, it would be worth it. He was no highly trained warrior, but he could fight a little, throw a punch and sling a stone in anger, and kluggites were always defeated in the end. Besides, it wasn't as if he was going to join the brutes and end up hanged beside them on Plymouth Hoe. Fool for love he might be, but he wasn't
that
stupid.

He dived into the waves, a flawless entry that caused scarce a ripple, and then pulled for the tip of the headland. From there, he'd let the current sweep him around to find the barbarian pirate and his ship.

Beyond the north headland was a little river that wound up a deep inlet between shaded woodlands. Raef had never swum this way after dark. He hadn't ventured too far into the fresh water even during the day, when the curlews dipped their long beaks to fish among the shallows. It took courage, as well as strength, to forge onward at night. The trees were tall and ancient, and many reached gnarled branches down toward the river, as if they wished scoop him up in claw-like hands.

This evening, silvered by moon and stars, the shapes of the forest assumed the aspects of towering phantoms, though all was relatively quiet. The sole watchers over this dark creek were the trees and a hooting fowl, which was a great relief. He could turn back and seek the pirate farther up the coast.

Then he spotted light ahead, the merest wisp of it. He kicked his wearied legs—how he wished for his tail, so much better suited to this journey—and swam toward the spark, up a narrow rivulet that grew stagnant and reeked. He soon discerned the shape of the ship, its deck rail wedged between mud banks that formed a natural dock. The light glimmered from a porthole in the high wooden bulwarks to the rear, and though he couldn't see the mermaid figurehead, he knew it was the ship he'd spotted earlier. The name was written on the side, painted in a slanted red script and outlined in gold. Raef squinted, and it took a little while for him to make it out. The second half of the title was strange, unlike anything he'd carved on a tablet back in the mer schoolroom—
Alice O'Shanty.

Stealthy and swift despite his growing exhaustion, Raef made for the stern. He located a rope, shimmied up the oaken walls, and found himself standing on a deserted deck between two stout cannon. Water streamed from his naked form and pooled upon the boards. From beneath, he heard a creak and a loud snore, echoed by a sonorous breathing, then a grotesque
burp
. The revolting crew slumbered below, but mayhap not everyone was sleeping. Before him, beneath the poop deck, was a cabin. The door was ajar, and the light—surely a single candle—glowed from within.

With that light still burning, he must be extra vigilant. He crept across the deck before peering through the crack in the door.

Kemp slept on a low bunk, stripped save for a pair of tight-fitting leather breeches, and with his hair hanging loose. On his bare chest was a book, on top of which he rested his large hand. In the lambent light, the contours of his musculature glistened as if oiled.

Raef stared, entranced, by this fine specimen of manhood. Surely this was no loutish kluggite … or these pirates were very different from those he'd learned about. Kemp was
not
ugly as a lumpy fish. He was fascinating, and Raef wished to examine him much closer, to study each ridge and contour, not to mention those tattoos on his arms. The art there was fine. He noted a treasure chest, a sheaf of corn, a leaping fish, a string of pearls. Each image was artistically entwined with the others, like the swirling patterns carved into stone by the ancient Celts… and what was Raef thinking? Even if Kemp wasn't as Raef imagined he ought to be, he was still a thief, who wore Haverford's ruby ring, glinting on the little finger of the hand that lay at his side.

Fixing on the jewelry, Raef clenched his jaw. Time to be brave.

Three paces traversed the surprisingly neat little cabin and closed the gap between them. He crouched at Kemp's side and examined the slender band. It appeared to have been designed for a smaller wearer than either Kemp or Haverford, the stone delicately cut. With a feather light touch, he started to pry it off.

Raef daren't breathe. His nerves whirled and jangled. He struggled to keep his attention on his task, gently drawing the ring forth. Kemp had long ebony lashes, which flickered. Raef froze, but Kemp didn't stir, instead smoothing lips that, on a less masculine face, would've seemed too broad and lush, like a maid's. Belonging to this raw-boned pirate, they conjured perfection. Beneath that stubble, his features were like a roughly-hewn coastline.  When he sighed in his sleep, Raef sighed in unison. A moment later, he pulled the ring free and clenched it in his fist.

He straightened, shaking from head to toe and not knowing how he'd succeeded. Kemp murmured wordlessly, caressing the worn cover of his book. Raef yearned to taste his fine mouth… and Raef’s toes curled at his own fickleness. How could he entertain such notions, with poor wronged Haverford waiting to be wooed? Clearly, he’d been starved of contact too long, but Kemp might rise up and slaughter him any second. He'd best get out of here, and was edging back toward the door when the sparkle of more treasure caught his eye.

Haverford's bejeweled dagger, which lay on a low table spread with a compass, charts, and a quill pen.

Raef chewed his lip. He should take that, too. It would please Haverford. After slipping the ring on his little finger, he stretched for the dagger—the same instant Kemp sprang from the bed, eyes wide, and grabbed him. Kemp slammed him against the cabin wall, thwacking back Raef's hand that gripped the weapon 'til he cried out and dropped it.

"Stealing trinkets is one thing, but I can't let you creep around with knives, my boy." Kemp growled, and his pristine teeth glistened. Up close, he appeared even larger than he'd seemed standing beside Haverford. Raef stood a good height in human form, but Kemp, this bare-chested barbarian, towered over him and stooped to fit beneath the beams of the cabin.

"Fisherman hooked your tongue?" demanded Kemp, shaking Raef roughly. "Or just your clothes?"

Pinned to the wood, flesh upon flesh, Raef couldn't think, let alone speak. Reflected candlelight danced in Kemp's eyes, otherwise so dark they could have swallowed midnight. Raef had never been so scared.

Kemp joggled Raef harder, clonking his head back against the wall with a painful crack. "Speak, damn you. Can't Haverford do his own dirty work?"

That
jolted Raef's tongue. "You're the dirty thief, and you're an idiot, too, if you think my lord would—"

"Ah, so you do work for Haverford." Kemp stepped back, grasped Raef at arm's length, and raked a curious gaze over Raef's nude form. Though Raef had never thought twice about being naked, this examination made him squirm. Heat rushed to his cheeks. "Doesn't the bastard provide livery for his minions?"

 "Livery? I-I don't understand." Raef blinked, bewildered. Feeling evermore exposed, he moved his hands to shield his groin.

"Neither do I, my boy." Kemp shook his head. "Tell me the truth now. Did you intend to kill me?"

"No. I just wanted to retrieve what you stole."

"Very well." Kemp released his grip about Raef's biceps. Raef fleetingly considered throwing a punch.  When Kemp grabbed the fallen knife and tucked it in a thick leather belt, Raef decided he couldn't risk it. Kemp snatched Raef's hand and yanked the ring free before striding to the door and flinging it open. "George, Peffy, you can come in now." To Raef's horror, the two revolting men he'd seen earlier, who must have heard the fray, dashed in. They froze, gawking at Raef.

"What the flaming limpets?" The one with the face like a jellyfish spoke, his accent stronger and coarser than Kemp's. His mismatched eyes bulged. Raef felt glad he'd never sought human company before Haverford's. Why did they stare at his body so? He was just like them, so far as he knew, though their scrutiny made him self-conscious. Could there be something strange or wrong about him?

"Don't get on the high ropes, Peffy," said Kemp. "It seems Haverford is too much of a nip-farthing to buy his henchmen clothes. How he gets away with it, the devil knows. Now, you." He turned back to Raef. "Do you have a name, boy?"

"R-Raef." His cheeks burned with embarrassment, setting the rest of his body quivering all the harder.

Kemp placed his hands on his hips. "All right, lad. Seeing as you found our secret harbor, we must set sail now, on the night tide. Obviously, you cannot go back to your master tonight, so we'll set you ashore farther up the coast, probably at your lord's town of Lilhaven. 'Til then, you can enjoy our hospitality."

Raef's heart, already racing, lurched. Gods, he
had
to try to get out of there. He knew the rules of shifting well enough now—remaining too long in human form sickened all merfolk, with the exception of maids with babes in their bellies. They were able to remain in their human form for the duration of their pregnancy if they chose, usually nested in semiaquatic caves. Eventually, any others would die, shriveled up like old seaweed. Those with little experience of shifting, like Raef, would sicken fastest. When dawn came, he needed to dive back into the sea and transform into his merman shape.

"You must let me go right away," he demanded, striving to keep the tremor from his voice. "I cannot raise a warning yet. I'm so tired after my swim that I will never make it back to the castle before dawn."