Chapter Eleven #3
Zaria’s
ears flattened. “You feel that?”
“Yes,”
Isaac said, wearily. “That’s a sandwyrm.” Another tremor came, rumbling through
his body. “It likely heard those explosions from miles away.”
Isaac
could picture the sight rather well. The creature would be circling below the
chest of the colossus, a massive limbless dragon bristling with teeth and
scales, tearing its way through an underground passage. Without a doubt, it
knew there were people above it. It could sense the tiniest vibration through
miles of sand. The only question was whether it felt territorial.
The
rumbling began to quicken.
Isaac
sighed.
“She’s
gone mad.” Zaria gripped the ablative edge of the golem’s shoulder, nearly
wrenching off the ancient stone plate. “Just throwin’
away lives in pursuit of vengeance. Thought she was decent before. Now, I’m not
so sure.”
“Well,”
Isaac said, “you did kill ten of her crew, and then blow up a ship.”
“That
last bit’s my doing now, is it?”
“That’s
what they think.”
She
gave a huff. “What the hell’s this necromancer waiting for? Soren’s down there
blowing up all her baubles, and she ain’t lifted a finger to stop it.”
“This
is once again a guess,” Isaac said, “but I would bet she’s wise enough to let
the intruders kill each other.”
He
watched the pirates for a time. Larkin—the male hyena—had managed to chip away
most of the ice on the cannon and was now wheeling it toward the pyramid of
skulls, where it would gain a better vantage on anyone entering the courtyard.
Two foxes hauled the chain-shot. There were many rounds.
“On the
other hand,” Isaac continued, “the sorceress is likely also terrified that your
old captain will summon a horde of wyrms to her domain. If she attacks the
pirates now, they will trigger more explosives, and it might destroy what’s
left of her home.” He watched the pirates begin to establish patrols on the
ramparts. Torches blazed through the dark. “We’ll have to deal with this
ourselves.”
She
looked back at him. “You’re not seriously suggesting—”
“I am,”
Isaac replied. “We should attack now, before they have a chance to organize.”
“That’s
hardly an option, squire.”
“You
heard Soren. Within a day, she’ll start hunting us. We need to go on the
offensive. We can’t let our enemy dictate the terms of engagement.”
“Are
you giving me tactical advice?”
“I
think I’ve read more books on the subject.”
She
scoffed, looking back at the fortified courtyard. “They’re dug in tight. They
got ramparts, crossbows, a wide open field, and nearly a dozen times our
number. It’s suicide.”
“Maybe
for you. I’ve got something better than a poleaxe.” He spun through some quick
mnemonics, holding a small ball of fire in his hands. “She won’t stand a chance
against me. None of them will.”
Zaria
gave him a raised brow.
“What?”
he asked.
“Isaac,”
she said, diplomatically. “I’m liking this new boldness on you. It’s rather
handsome. In this case, though, you need to temper it. Assaulting them head-on
is madness. We should skirt around, let the sorceress clear her own bloody
house.”
He
looked at her for a moment. “Is that cowardice I’m hearing?”
“You
wanna get smacked upside the head?”
“No.”
“Then
shut your gob.” She went back to watching Soren, who was now supervising the
barricade repairs. “This is my world, right here. I know how to handle it.”
“Tell
me,” Isaac said. “Pirates have the right of parley, don’t they? If we ask for
it, she has to hear us out. She’ll have to grant us protection.”
Zaria
took a breath, her patience visibly waning. “That’s a tale more than a truth.
Pirates are practical, as a rule. They’ll never let honor put them at a slight.
You try that now, they’ll just use the chance to
flank.”
“But
not Soren. Right? You’ve said it before. She likes to make a spectacle. She
didn’t kill you on the Saber because she wanted to haul you back to
Crookspur, or whatever your pirate republic is called. She even challenged you
to a duel, back in the chapel, when she could have immediately buried us in
rubble.”
Zaria
opened a palm, as if conceding the point.
“So it
would work?” Isaac asked.
“It
might. I’d still have the problem of killin’ her,
which ain’t a small thing. She can cut a man to ribbons, just at a blink.”
“That
won’t be a problem, either.”
“How’s
that, then?”
“Because
I’ll stand in your place.”
Zaria
stared at him.
Isaac
placed a hand on his chest, feigning a confident smile. He wasn’t used to
smiling, and it took some effort. “I believe you’ve found your champion.”
“You?
My champion?”
“That
is what I said. Thank you for listening.”
“Oh, I
heard you. I’m just giving you a chance to think better.”
“Who
said I was going to fight fair?”
He
conjured another ball of fire. She watched the flame spin above his palm, the light
reflecting in her eye. She opened her mouth to speak. She closed it. Her eyes
remained locked on his magic.
Slowly,
her expression grew thoughtful.
Down in
the palace courtyard, Soren was strolling through the middle of the open space,
still leaving bloody prints with the paws of her feet. Her eyes were locked on
the bodies of the thralls which had not yet been dragged away. Around her, the
air was filled with motion and shouts.
With an
idle sweep, she leaned over, drew her cutlass, and decapitated one of the
bodies.
As the
head rolled across the pavement, she grabbed it by the hair and lifted it
close, her sword dripping blood at her side. She rubbed the carved sigil on its
forehead, as if digging into the mottled scar. Her expression seemed curious.
She clearly did not understand what magic was at play. After a moment, she
dipped a finger through the neck hole and tasted the blood. She spat on the
pavement. With a grunt, she tossed the head into the air and kicked it like a
child’s ball. It went sailing off into the city beyond.
More
rumbling shook the ground. Beneath the quakes, there was a deeper, more
melodious voice. It was the warning call of a sandwyrm. Isaac had heard it many
times on his trek across the desert. It seemed that the creature had mistaken
Soren’s bombs for the approach of a rival.
It was
going to be territorial.
Even
now, a single vibration would likely spell its attack.
Zaria
turned her attention back to the palace. She wasn’t looking at Soren—instead,
she was tracking the crew as they raced across the courtyard, taking note of
the souls repairing the walls, treating the wounded, rationing out portions of
meat and rum. She would know their names. She would also know the ones now
lying dead on the pavement. Over the years, they might’ve worked as deckhands,
sharing meals, sharing bunks, sharing the same hauls of treasure.
It must
have taken a lot for her to kill the ones she had.
Her
silence was heavy.
“Hey,”
Isaac said. “Do you think Soren’s crew wants to be stuck down here, in this
tomb?”
The
hyena snorted. “Pirates are worse than crones. Anything and everything is a
curse. Most of ‘em would be swimming in piss if Soren weren’t barking orders.”
“So, if
we kill Soren, and we only kill Soren, they will probably run away.
Right?”
Zaria
looked back at him.
“In
that case,” Isaac said, “you could argue that we would be saving their lives.
It seems the right thing to do. Kill the person who
wants you dead, and spare the crew who are having second thoughts.”
She did
not answer.
“Right?”
he asked.
“Isaac,”
she said. “I won’t ask you to do this. This is my business. My concern. You got
your mission to worry about—don’t start feeling obligated for me.”
“I am
worried about my mission. Soren is getting in the way of it. In terms of my
duty to the Diet, I’d say I’m compelled to end her life.” He shrugged. “It
could just be that I want to defeat a murderous pirate, as well. That would be
a good deed for the world. You know, help a few people.”
She
gave him an expression somewhere between shock and laughter. “You realize they
outnumber us ten to one?”
“Sure.”
“She
has crossbows. Explosives. She brought a whole fuckin’ cannon. None the least,
all the crew at her back are veteran hands. They’re all risking blackness and
evil to have a chance at my head.”
“That
seems accurate.”
“And,
now, you’re asking me to just stroll up to her fortress, ask for parley, and
anoint you as my champion, all so you can fight a duel with the worst dread
pirate this side of the waste?”
“Essentially.”
There
was a pause. The golem croaked, like a mouth chewing through bone.
“You
know how foolhardy this whole plan is, don’t you?”
“Of
course,” Isaac said. “I think that’s why I like it.”
Zaria laughed.
It seemed like she could do little else. As the mirth leaked out of her, she
looked him up and down, her ears twitching with vigor. “I gotta tell ya, Isaac.
I feel I’ve been a bad influence, in your regard.”
“Don’t
worry. I’ve always been this way. I just feel ready to express it now.”
He
looked down at the palace courtyard, marking the defenses, counting the number
of able-bodied pirates. Soren resumed her march through the bustling crowd. Her
leather armor was covered in blood and knives. In that moment, Isaac felt fear,
though it was not the fear he always felt around his uncle.
This
fear made him feel alive.
“Are
you with me?”
For a
final time, Zaria glanced down at her old captain and crew. He could imagine
that she was remembering names, faces, voices, all the times they’d spent
together, all the years of work and grog and plunder. She fingered her leather
plackart. There was a torture wound there, still healing from Isaac’s
treatment. When she pressed on the injury, her snout curled in a growl.
Off in
the distance, through the earth and rock, a sandwyrm bellowed its rage.
“Fuck
it,” Zaria said. “Let’s slag the cunt.”