Nobody Likes Fairytale Pirates (48 page)

What would
Taylor
do?  She’d
always been the crafty one. 
She
could get him out of this, if she were
here.

And idea formed in his head.  He suddenly
knew
exactly
what she’d do.

Rather than stopping, Ryle
continued running towards the soldiers, as if in a panic.  “
It’s loose!
” 
He cried, trying to sound terrified over some unseen monster.  “
TROOOOOLL!
”

The men forgot all about him and
instead busied themselves by rushing for their weapons and preparing for the
troll onslaught.

Ryle jumped over their makeshift
barricade, still screaming.  “
Its vicious jaws will consume us all!
”  He
shrieked hysterically.  “
Run for your lives!”

Several of the pirates in the group
panicked and scattered, trying to escape the monster.

Ryle ignored them and continued
running, bypassing the confrontation with the remaining Adithian soldiers
entirely.

Idiots.

Sometimes, people just…

His thoughts were cut off by a low
rumbling sound and he stopped in his tracks.

Uh-oh.

The men he’d just run passed
started to scream as the street in front of them buckled and something huge
burst through the weathered and snowy cobblestones.

A gigantic spider let out an
unearthly sound of rage and hunger, and it descended on the soldiers like some
kind of angry god.  The men turned to flee, but the monster speared several of
them with its sharp legs, pinning them in place.  The other soldiers retreated,
throwing their swords and shields and even shoes at the creature in an effort
to kill it or chase it away.

The monster reared back bathed the
men in a stream of fire from its mandibles.

Ryle blinked at the scene for a
moment, trying to comprehend what was happening.

That was… really weird.

The monster paused and seemed to
stare at Ryle.

Ryle stared back at the monster.

“Shit.”  He groaned softly.  “I
really hate those pirates.”

This was so typical of his life.

The monster let out another eerie
cry and charged down the street towards Ryle.

****

Ransom shot an arrow towards the
sound of unfamiliar boots on stone.  It wasn’t that she could see what she was
shooting at, it was simply muscle memory.  She had shot a lot of people with
arrows in her previous life-- sometimes blindfolded-- so whether or not she
could see the target, as long as she could hear it, she knew how to hit it.

The projectile slammed home, and
the unseen man hit the floor with a crash.

She has no idea how the fight was
going for them, but judging from the sound of clashing swords, her partner
seemed to be more than holding his own against the rush of men.

The basic layout of the room and
the hallway outside limited the effectiveness of the army arrayed against them,
which meant that only a few men could fight Uriah at any one time.  There
simply wasn’t enough space for more than a half dozen to make it through the
broken door without running straight into Uriah’s blades, and Ransom was
devastating the ranks of those who managed.

As long as they could kill the men
as quickly as they arrived, they’d be fine. 

It was like treading water.

It was still a doomed fight, obviously,
but Ransom didn’t stop to think about that.  All she cared about was working
with her partner to clear the room, one man at a time.

Someone bellowed in rage from the
left wall and Ransom immediately put an arrow into the man.  Then a second,
since the first hadn’t done the job to her satisfaction.

The sound of a body falling limply
to the floor.

It was getting harder and harder to
hear individual sounds now, through the cacophony of noise: clashing swords,
stomping feet, screaming men.

The familiar sound of her partner’s
swords stopped for a moment, and he began to swear.

A struggle.  Fists hitting flesh. 
Muffled groans of exertion and pain.

Too many men had entered the room
and one of them had grabbed him from behind, trying to hold him still for the
others to finish off.

Uriah whistled sharply in a note
she recognized.  It basically meant: “Kill the fucker.”  She drew an arrow and
fired it in one fluid motion, aiming directly for the sound of her partner’s
whistle, knowing that Uriah would duck his head at the last second.  To the
left. 

The arrow hit something and there
was the sound of a body collapsing to the ground.  Since she continued to hear
the sounds of battle a moment later, she thankfully hadn’t hit Uriah.

“You’re welcome!”  She yelled at
him.

The sound of swords clashing grew
faster now, as her partner grew more furious and tried to kill the extra men
who had arrived while he’d been distracted.  The metallic clangs began almost a
steady sound, forming a sort of melody.

Metal striking metal.  Metal
slashing flesh.  Blood splashing on the stone floor.  Men falling. 
Interspersed with that was the sound of arrows in flight and the noise they
made when they pierced flesh.

It was almost beautiful in a way.

There was a sort of art to what she
and Uriah were doing.

Like two musicians improvising together
to compose a new sympathy.

Or that could have been her old
“demented Adithian psycho” way of thinking again, she wasn’t sure.

Something flew by her head and
connected several feet to her left.  Someone hit the floor at her feet.

“You’re welcome!”  Uriah called to
her, apparently killing the man by throwing his dagger.

Her partner immediately went back to
killing the Adithians by the score.

The man really was…
incredible
. 
So strong and capable.  Even in her
old
life, she would have instantly
given that man any job he wanted in her ranks of Gardeners.  He was the most
gifted swordsman she’d even known.  And, obviously, her previous self would
have positively
delighted
in doing all kinds of sick sexual shit to his
body.

She made a face at him and fired
off an arrow, killing another man before he could flank her partner, then immediately
fired two more arrows to thin the herd and give Uriah more room.

“The door!”  Uriah called to her,
killing another man.  “Everything you’ve got
!  Shove it right down their
goddamned throats!
”

She refocused on the door, fitting
the arrows between her fingers and firing three at a time towards her unseen
target.

The men were coming faster now,
their boots a steady sound on the floor, like a rainstorm. 

Uriah continued fighting, a
whirlwind of steel keeping the men at bay.  For the first time since she’d
known him, he was all business.  Utterly focused on his goal.

Killing.

“Left!”  He called out.  “To the
left, Dove!”

She turned her aim towards the left
wall again, trying to judge where to shoot.  It wasn’t terribly difficult. 
Basically, anywhere you shot an arrow was going to hit someone at this point.

Uriah let out a roar of exertion
and several men hit the floor, as if they’d locked swords but he’d been able to
overpower them.

She immediately fired at where the
men had fallen, just to make certain they didn’t get up.

“Where do you think
you’re
going!?!” 
Uriah yelled at someone.

Boots running on stone.

A hacking sound.

Someone’s scream being cut short.

Ransom fired two more arrows near
the spot her partner had just moved to, hitting a pair of men before they could
cut him down. 

Uriah blocked a slash from someone,
then decapitated the man, the hollow sound of the man’s head bouncing across
the tiles filled the room.

Ransom grabbed another arrow… and
found all of the large vases of projectiles in the ancient armory were now
empty. 

The one in her hand was her last
one.

“I’m out!”  She yelled frantically,
hoping he could quickly find her another supply somehow.  If he couldn’t, this
fight was about to become
much
more difficult.  She had never been especially
great with a sword to begin with, and being blind wasn’t going to help with
that.  Hand to hand, she could at least figure out where her opponent was.  But
the swords would give her enemies a distance from her which would basically
make them invisible to her.  One mistake and she was dead.  “’Rai!  I’m out!” 
She yelled again, her voice shrill with panic.

“That’s okay.”  Uriah killed
someone… and the room was oddly quiet.  “So are they.”

“No, I mean I don’t have any…”  She
trailed off, just processing that.  “Wait… what?”

“They’re all dead.”  He explained. 

She frowned.  How long had they
been at this?  It only seemed like a matter of moments.  Could they possibly
have killed that many men in so short a time?  Or had she just lost track of
how long it had taken?

Uriah raised his voice to address
the corpses.  “Y’all picked a fight with the wrong goddamn pirates, didn’t
ya!?!”  He dropped his weapons to the ground to emphasize his point.  “I
told
you
I could win that fucking fight!”  He sounded exhausted, but like he’d
just had some kind of religious experience.  “I’ve been sayin’ for five goddamn
years that I’d find a way!”

“You have.”  She nodded, lowering
her bow, overjoyed that he’d finally been able to achieve his dream.  She was
honestly happier about that aspect of this than she was about actually
surviving.  He had tried so hard for so many years to do this.  To prove to her
and himself that it could be done.  And the fact that he’d finally done it made
her want to cry with relief and pride.  “I take it back.  Apparently you
can
win that fight, Uriah.  It is possible.  You’ve done some amazing things
over the years, but…”  She tried to swallow the lump in her throat.  “…but I
finally see who you are now.”

“The best fucking swordsman in…” 
He began.

“No.”  She shook her head, cutting
him off.  “You’re a man who stands up for what’s his.”  She cleared her
throat.  “Who can do the
impossible
when he has to.  And… and I’m so proud
of you.”

“All the times I’ve relived that
fight,” he started towards her, “it never occurred to me that
you
were
the missing element.”

“Told you.”  She cleared her throat
again, on the verge of breaking down in relief and from her crashing adrenalin
levels.  “We got this pirate shit down, don’t we?”

“We do indeed.”  He continued
towards her purposefully, and Ransom knew he was going to kiss her again.  And
she couldn’t think of anything in this world she wanted more than that.

“Just so you know…”  She walked
forward to meet him.  “You absolutely have my permission to touch me.”

“Good, because I wasn’t even going
to ask.”

“That’s…”

The room exploded, knocking them
both aside.

She tried to pull herself to her
feet, cradling her head with her free hand.  “’Rai?”  She called.  “Are you…”

“You little bitch!”  Her mother
screamed at her.  “I can’t believe you’d choose some filthy Grizzle over your
own kind!  Over your family! 
Over me!
”

“I’d choose the fucking
plague
over you, so that’s not really saying much.”  Ransom focused on where her
mother’s voice was coming from.  “Uriah is my family.  You’re just the mean
bitch I used to live with.”

“I warned you that I’d kill him.” 
Her mother growled, obviously hurt and furious over Ransom’s insult.  “But, as
always, you chose to be an insolent little fool, betraying the people who
really
matter!”

Uriah apparently caught the worst
of her mother’s attack and he made a dazed sort of sound as he came to, then
swore once he realized what was happening.  “Oh, why is it that every time I
meet a girl’s folks, it ends in a hostage crisis and dark apocalyptic magic?”  He
heaved a dramatic sigh.  “What am I doing wrong?”

Her mother ignored that, stationing
herself behind the sound of Uriah’s voice, no doubt with some sort of weapon to
his throat.  “Do you think I’d just let that stand?  That
I
, the Empress
of my people, could allow myself to be disrespected!?!”  She started
screaming.  “You killed Karen!”

“That isn’t who I am anymore.”

“I don’t care!”  Her mother shouted
again.  “
I
needed to be the one to kill that useless little nothing! 
People had to
see me
do it so I wouldn’t look weak!  It was my right as
her mother!”

“I think your mother has a point,
actually.”  Uriah chimed in.  “You seem very wise, Mama Ransom.  I feel like I
can really talk to you.  I think it’s your kind eyes.”  He took on a
sickeningly sweet voice.  “I know we’re just beginning our relationship, but
would it be too weird if I started calling you ‘mom’?”  He paused.  “Too soon?” 
He paused again, probably to nod in understanding.  “It’s too soon.”

“You have my permission to kill
her.”  Ransom told him bluntly.  “Gut the bitch.”

“Oh, nonsense.”  He snorted at the
mere suggestion.  “I’ve already settled my scores.  This one is aaaall yours,
Dove.”

“All your life, you’ve tried to
take everything I had!”  Her mother continued.  “Always so jealous of my
perfection!  Always trying to selfishly chip away pieces to claim as your
own!” 

“I never wanted to be you.”  Ransom
shook her head.  “I wanted to
kill you. 
There’s a difference.”

“You took Karen from me because you
knew it would hurt me!”  Her mother continued.

“Well,” Ransom nodded, admitting
the point, “that part’s true, yeah.”

“Rumor has it Karen was a whiny bitch
anyway.”  Uriah defended.  “I
can’t stand
the holier-than-thou.  Always
so desperate to tell you how pure and humble they are, like it’s some sort of
contest.  As my mother always said: ‘Saints are just sinners without the
balls.’”