The Pirate King Ch. 23

The King had no such qualms, but he was not here for a social visit. The ships that moored eternal held much more interest to him.

He had marched onto each of the ships and asked if they hid a large man with light hair, many scars, and eyes that held the sea. Or, perhaps, a smaller man with dark hair worn in curls and a way of wearing his shirts unbearably under starched.

The men on the ships had sworn they had never seen such a figure. But, they had said, there had been a ship that had come to these shores a few days prior. It had arrived, the sky had split, and it had left. They had all thought better than to bother such a ship.

"Perhaps," the King of the pirates told captain after captain, "you should have thought a bit more." And he had laid waste to each and every ship in the harbor. The water ran black with ash and char. The air tasted of burnt flesh.

"Please," this captain begged. He should have known better. It did no good to beg from this King. "I didn't do anything."

The lash bit into him again. Blood welled on his back; tears welled in his eyes. "Exactly," the King stated. He sounded bored. He was. "You did nothing."

"Please!" the captain begged again, but his words were drowned out by the lash of the whip.

"Useless." The King looked out over the deck, the men tied to posts and railings and masts. "All of them." He swept away, his smart clothing making the movement less dramatic and more precise than any pirate had ever bothered to look. "Burn it."

The first mate knew better than to say anything against this man. He looked across the deck, taking in all the lives that would soon be ended. Poor souls, he allowed himself to think, but it was better them than him and so he gave the order and followed his King to the waiting vessel.

"Unnecessary, in the end," the King was saying. "I know what currents my brother favors. We'll find him." He took his place at the helm of his ship, smiling. "Another fire. Glorious."

On the shore, a figure stood watching the flames. She was surprised to find herself sad at the loss of these ships. Some of them had been moored here for years, the only living souls she had seen. And, she reasoned, it was fun to toy with these men. They had made good playthings on the days that stretched out long and endless. Yes; it was most likely the loss of the entertainment that she mourned.

She could have put the flames out, she supposed, but she saw no reason to draw attention to herself. Besides, more ships would come. She watched the one surviving ship slowly sail from her waters - it is all my waters, she thought to herself. I am the sea.

But there was another that held the ocean more strongly. A few others, now, her body so long dried on this arid land. And one sailed the vessel that was taking its leave.

My vessel, she thought. She had once commanded that ship. She had once been the King.

More ships would come, yes. But a King, even a displaced one, should not have to wait. A witch should not be at the mercy of any man. And she might not have been the most powerful in the sea, or the most connected, but she had the fire of the volcano, and the churning of the sand. The rustle of the resilient leaves. Miranda turned and walked back to her rooms, plans forming in her mind. The sea can be boiled away. Salt can be used like the land. There are ways around everything, if one only knows how to look.

She took a bowl down from her cabinets and allowed the half of her face that still worked to smile. Dreyfus should have never taken away her only distractions. Even a King stood no chance against the full attention of a witch.

***

Val was just turning down for the night when the change struck him.

Donar caught him mid-stumble, concern in his eyes and his lips. "What's wrong?" He righted the small man, trying to catch his frantic eyes. "Val. Love. What is it?"

But Val did not have words. Not for this. There was something, a change, so deep within the spells he kept woven around his soul that he had nearly forgotten it was there. A part of something that had been forever leaned up against a wall, fallen. A velocity stopped that now sped forward at full speed.

He stood there, trying desperately to figure out exactly what it was. The change tasted like dust. The direction felt like home.

"Oh," his lips formed. "Fuck."

He rushed to his scrying bowl, chucking the old water out and filling it to the brim with hands that shook. This could not be possible, he thought. That spell of protection was something he had run up against so many times, it could not simply -

And yet it was. Val, for the first time in his life, could track the King's ship. Anyone could. There was nothing keeping prying eyes away, not anymore.

How flitted through his mind, followed quickly by why and who but none of those questions truly mattered because there were so many other possibilities. Val flicked the water clear and began again. Then he gripped the side of the bowl, shaking.

He knew where both of his brothers were. All spells against tracking were disabled. He stood there, the implications swirling in his mind. But that would mean...

Donar came up behind him. "What is it?" he asked again, but his words were lost in frenzied motions. Val was again sinking fingers into water, his eyes desperate as he realized just how close those two readings had been. He stared down at the bowl, watching his father's ship grow closer and closer to the only living family member he still cared about.

"Christ. Fuck!" He flung the water from the bowl again, this time in anger. In fear. His scarf was forgotten as he raced from the room, feet seeking the only path they knew how to take in times such as this. When he reached the ocean he dropped down, feeling the salt soak into his skin. His soul.

"I have to warn him." Ice was gathering on his skin. The water around him grew a skin of slush, hitting his clothes and slowing turning them from silk to granite. "I have to warn them."

Donar dropped to his knees behind him. His arms wrapped his scarf around Val's shoulders, bringing warmth and support. Val's eyes were closed. His body rocked back and forth in time with the sea.

"I've got you," Donar whispered. He placed kiss after kiss on the nape of Val's neck. Frost gathered on his eyelashes. All around them, snow drifted to turn to slush in the frozen, tropical oceans. "I've got you."

***

I dreamed.

I dreamed of red sails, of white flags and black skulls. I dreamed of standing at a table, facing a sea monster that wore a crown and called himself King.When the strongest remains he reminded me. There is a place set for me at the table. There has always been a place set for me at this table.There can only be one. There are so many plates, so many places where we could have sat together. The napkins are drenched in blood.

Do what you were always meant to do, the sea monster says.

I am a killer. I am a being of rage and monstrosity. I am the King. I take the knife he hands me and turn to follow my father's pointing finger.

The King is standing there. The King is standing there. The King is standing there. I stand beside my brother, my sister standing at his side. Her face is burnt. Her feet are buried in sand.

"I'm sorry," I tell her.

My brother raises a knife to my neck. Long live the King, says my brother, and he slits my throat.

***

A cold foot in my back woke me with a start. I sat up straight, ready for the enemy.

"You're stealing the blankets," the enemy accused groggily. I sighed and untangled myself from the cocoon I had gathered in my sleep, giving half back to him. The room had gone from a wonderful summer's night to absolutely frigid.

"It's fucking freezing," his sleepy voice complained. I kissed his cheek and he smiled without opening his eye. "Will you get the window?"

How could I deny him anything? I stood and walked over to peer out the window. Snow was falling through the sky, a frenzied descent made more scattered by winds that buffeted and distressed the small flakes. For a moment my sleep-addled brain did not put it together - it was the North. Sometimes it snowed. I closed the window and began to move back towards the bed.

But there had been something in the snowstorm, in the way it moved as if agitated. The way the winds had not worked with the snow but almost seemed to toy with it. And it was more than that, it was something deep within me. Something familiar. I knew that snow. I understood that snow as well as I understood my own body, my own soul.

I had my hand on the bed and was about to climb in when it hit me like a flash -Val.

I hurried back to the window, flinging it open. The wind struck my face, laughing, maniacal. I knew that wind. I knew the only reason Val would send such a warning, the only thing in the world that frightened him. I felt it tug at my soul and did not hesitate.

"Love," I called. He did not respond immediately as I strode around the room, finding what we needed. He was only half awake when I dumped all that I had gathered on the bed beside him. "Love, wake up."

"What the fuck? What's going on? Is everything alright?"

"Get dressed." I leaned down and kissed him. I wanted one last moment of peace. Needed his strength for what was about to come. Then I pressed his sword into his hand.

"The King is here."

***