Chapter 13

 

The uneasiness that had begun in Savion two days ago grew stronger with each passing minute. Unsure whether to leave for Brayton or stay in Kadon stirred his normal confidence into a cauldron of uncertainty.

“You don’t seem yourself, Captain.” Nuto’s loud remark drew Savion’s gaze to the lithe man sitting across from him.

“Aye, something bothering you?” Petrok said between mouthfuls of roasted boar, yams, and biscuits—fresh food they normally didn’t get while out at sea. Orange slices peeked above a bowl at the center of the table like myriad rising suns. Plucking one, Hona slid it into his mouth.

“Nothing. Just determining our next course.” The ship creaked and groaned over a wavelet while a breeze entered through the open stern windows and fluttered the candles atop the table.

“The ship’s been ready for days,” Verrad pointed out. “I found a merchant in need of transport for his goods: foodstuffs and tools. Why not just head out? I grow tired of this town.”

“Gone through all the women and wine already?” Petrok snickered, causing Verrad to grin mischievously.

Shaking his head, the first mate turned to Savion. “You sensed trouble in Brayton, did you not? I say we go there and teach those Malum another lesson.”

“Always anxious for a fight, Petrok.” Savion smiled. “Sometimes it’s best to wait and make sure your move is the right one.”

“With that I will agree.” Verrad set down his fork and poured more wine into his cup. “It’s foolish to continue with these minor skirmishes—saving one person here and one there, a small village and then a fishing boat or merchantman. How is that going to help our cause in the long run?”

Hona frowned. “It’s not about a cause, Verrad. It’s about people.”

Verrad’s dark eyes shifted to Savion. “Yet our cause is to save as many people as possible from Natas’s clutches, isn’t that right, Captain? Why help one or two when we can help thousands?” He sipped his wine, then lowered the mug with an ominous clank. “When we defeat Natas and we—I mean you—finally rule over the Ancient Seas, think of the good we could do.”

Yet the sparkle in his eyes was not of benevolence but of power and greed.

Nuto slumped in his chair. “We can never defeat Natas. He has too many warriors. He’s crushed every force that has come against him. Who are we but a ship full of do-gooders?”

“Ah, but that is where you are wrong.” Petrok pointed his knife at the man. “We have Savion Ryne as captain.” He faced Savion. “And the power that rests on you is not of Erden. We have all seen it”—he glanced over the others—“and we cannot deny that it is Savion’s destiny to rule the people in goodness and truth.”

Though touched by the man’s confidence in him, a piece of Savion’s heart began to chip away as he listened to his men. “So you all wish to rule? Is that why you joined my crew?”

“No, Captain.” Hona spoke up with urgency. “I follow you because I cannot do otherwise. You are good and strong and kind, and those few we save from Natas are enough.”

Savion gripped Hona’s arm, warmed by his friend’s affection.

Verrad tossed his drink to the back of his mouth and poured another cup.

Nuto helped himself to more rice. “You are our friend and our captain, Savion. Being with you and serving on the Scepter is an honor.”

Petrok looked up, his eyes flashing. “But should you desire to rule, Captain, we would be honored to serve you. I have grown quite fond of saving the world. I will always stand with you. No matter what.”

“Even should we face certain death?” Savion raised a brow.

“Of course!” Petrok gave an indignant huff, and the others added their agreement.

Later that night, after most of his crew had retired, Savion stood at the stern of the ship gazing over the flickering lights of Kadon, fingering his medallion and searching for wisdom, strength, and direction. The pull to go fight in Brayton was strong, but a stronger sense had emerged from within him, deep in his spirit. It called to him from Kadon, hailing him from the streets, whispering to him in a siren’s song.

Something or someone was trying to get him to leave this city. The absence of Malum, the miraculous ease and rapidity of his ship repairs, this lure from Brayton that came not from within but from without. Something was amiss. His spirit could not find peace. And until it did and he received clear direction, he intended to stay where he was.

 

♥♥♥

 

It hadn’t been easy to track the Scepter, especially through a summer squall, but Damien’s life had never been easy, and he’d grown accustomed to the disfavor of the gods. Regardless, he always won in the end. Not with luck—with hard work, wits, and drive. That’s all a man needed. If the gods hadn’t wanted him to succeed, they shouldn’t have given him all three of those qualities. During his forty years in Erden, he’d battled his way up from being a poor orphaned son to a man who owned two islands and ran three of the most successful businesses in the Ancient Seas. Not only that, he was allied with the most powerful general of all time. Every citizen in every port on every street parted the way for Damien when he passed. Men bowed before his wealth and power. The strong conquered the weak. It was the way of the world.

And because he was strong, he would have revenge for his father’s death.

Though Damien detested politics, he rather liked Natas’s way of governing—by fear and force—as long as Damien was the one invoking both. After all, he was doing the people of Erden a favor. Most were so ignorant and inept they couldn’t care for themselves. They needed someone to tell them what to do, how to live, what to eat, even what to believe. Yes indeed, Damien was just the man for the job. He didn’t even mind sharing the power with Natas, as long as the general accomplished what he promised he’d do—take the kingdom from King Abbas. Then Damien’s final dream would come true. Traveling to Nevaeh where he’d heard the streets were paved in gold and the walls and gates were made of gemstones! Ah, the riches King Abbas hoarded for himself. But soon they would be Damien’s.

The only thing standing in his way was one silly mermaid.

Now, as his men rowed him to Kadon’s shore, he could almost smell her fishy scent, could almost see the pearls streaming down her cheeks. Once he captured her, not only his revenge but his wealth and power would be complete.

 

♥♥♥

 

All it took was two days—two days of Perdita’s feminine charms—and she had Mayor Tombay following her around, begging her favors like a starving puppy. She was quite pleased with herself, actually. After Savion’s constant dismissal, she’d started to believe she’d lost her touch. Not true. Even the stodgy, distrusting recluse of a mayor had been bewitched the minute she’d turned her charm on him.

She distracted the guard on the east gate of the mayor’s estate, knocked him out, tied him up, and then left the gate open. Now, all there was to do was get the mayor drunk and find the gold. Soon, Sal and his men would arrive. During their fight with the guards, Perdita would escape with a good portion of the pompous man’s fortune.

When Sal discovered her betrayal, it would infuriate him to the point of boiling.

She hoped he’d follow his normal punishment of first flogging her in public. That should give Savion enough time to rescue her before Sal burned her at the stake. She shivered at the thought of enduring that kind of pain without the release death would bring. But surely Savion would come. The Scepter was still in the harbor, and she had seen his men around town. If he could sense distress and injustice miles away, he would certainly sense the danger surrounding her.

Two hours later, with the mayor passed out on his bed and most of his gold in two pouches hidden behind a Cassia tree near the back entrance, Perdita opened the gate for Smelly Sal and his men. He placed a wet kiss on her cheek as he passed, leading his band of ruffians into the courtyard and house. She swiped his saliva away with the sleeve of her gown as the clank of blade and the crack of pistol soon saturated the air, joined by shouts and shrieks.

Grabbing the bags of gold, Perdita slipped out the gate and sped into the night. Sal was no fool. She must hide herself as if she were truly trying to evade capture, or the man would smell a trap. Though to what end, he would never imagine. First, she would enjoy doing something that would only increase Sal’s fury when he found out.

Give all the money to the poor.

’Twas one of her favorite pastimes during the ephemeral redemption, which she always tried to squeeze in between seducing her latest would-be-lover. Now, carrying two bags bulging with coin, she combed the dark streets, seeking those in need. Kadon harbored many such unfortunates: a woman and her two children curled up in an alleyway; a lame man, skin leathered by the sun, hand outstretched to passersby; a band of orphans scouring through refuse for scraps to eat.

She spread her gold among them all until there was no more, her heart lighter than it had been in weeks. Then after paying the rest to a drunken sailor for a spot in the hold of a ship departing the next day, she settled down with the bilge and the rats and waited to be found.

By first light, as expected, the sailor’s loose tongue had spread tales of a beautiful woman aboard his ship, and ole Smelly Sal Burns descended into the hold, eyes crazed with hatred and death stalking in his wake.

Clutching her arm, he dragged her back to port, cursing and spitting and foaming like some mad monster from a mythical tale. “Ye know what I do with those who betray me? I make them wish for death!”

Too late, she already did.

 

♥♥♥

 

“Captain, the odds are not good … even for you.” Hona yanked Savion’s arm back, forcefully stopping the captain’s determined march into the center of the mob.

Wrenching his arm away, Savion growled, focusing on the disturbing scene before him. Why did the daft woman always cause trouble? Why could she not behave? But more importantly, why could he not leave her be? His heart rattled with every jangle of the chains pinning her to the whipping post. His anger grew at the blood streaming from her bound wrists, the scratches covering the bare skin of her back, exposed through her shredded gown, and her defeated silence.

He wiped the sweat from his brow and scanned the crowd shouting with raised fists for her to be flogged—the wealthiest of the townsfolk in their plumed hats, lace cravats, and silk flounces shimmering in the noonday sun. His eyes landed on Smelly Sal Burns. Savion had no quarrel with him, though he was sure the man was not without fault. His reputation as a bully and a crook were well known throughout Kadon. In fact, Savion had rescued more than one person from his clutches over the years.

As he would have to do now. Even though Perdita had obviously stolen from him. Or from someone. And then given it all to the poor! Savion squeezed the bridge of his nose, still trying to make sense of it. Word of her actions spread rapidly throughout the sleepy city until in the wee hours of the morning one of Savion’s powder boys, who’d spent the night in town, came rowing out to the ship with news of a strange woman’s charity—a rare occurrence in this town.

Rarer still for a woman as self-serving as Perdita. Perhaps he had misjudged her.

A commotion pulled Savion’s attention to a band of armed men pressing in at the back of the crowd. A tall, regal-looking man in a satin jerkin braided in gold with a fountain of Caestrian lace at his throat marched through the mob that parted for him as if he were royalty. He stopped in the center of the square as if he owned it and stared at Perdita with intense interest before sweeping a look of dismissal at Savion. Verrad jolted beside him.

Ignoring the newcomer, Savion pushed forward and raised his voice over the crowd. “Let her go, Sal. She’s but a foolish woman.”

“I agree with the foolish part.” Sal motioned for his henchman to grab the whip. “As to the lettin’ go, she deserves her punishment.”

“I’ll take her away from here and promise you she’ll never return.”

“She’ll ne’er return, all right. I’ll make sure o’ that.” He chuckled. “But she’ll get a fittin’ punishment fer stealing from ole Sal.” He glared at the mob. “A warnin’ to ye all.”

“From what I understand, the money was not even yours but the mayor’s,” Savion returned.

Ole Sal spit to the side. “Unfortunately, the mayor has met an early grave, bequeathin’ his fortune to me.”

Savion gripped the hilt of the sword hanging at his hip, his men following his lead. “Release her at once, or answer to me and my men.”

The tall, well-dressed man tilted his head toward Savion. “This is none of your affair, sailor! Begone! You would risk your life and your men’s lives for this wench, this whore? Besides, she is a thief and deserves her punishment.”

Verrad leaned toward Savion. “He has a point, Captain. The Scepter is loaded with goods and ready to sail. We’ve done enough for this woman. Do we dare defy the law?”

Savion flattened his lips. The law. The law demanded punishment. He thought of his father: pure goodness, wisdom, love, justice … mercy. Yes, what of mercy? What of second chances? What would his father do? Savion faced the angry mob. “Perhaps she does deserve to be punished, but don’t we all deserve the same for our stupid actions? Haven’t we all stolen or lied or hurt others?”

Silence descended on the crowd. Some gaped at him as if he’d told them they were naked.

A few of Sal’s men scratched their heads and lowered their blades. But Sal pushed his beefy body in front of Savion’s and yelled, “Thieves must be punished or chaos will reign.” He sneered at Savion. “What are you going to do? Fight my forty men with your twenty?”

Not just forty. From the looks of things, the well-dressed man had an additional fifty with him.

“No.” Savion had no interest in bloodshed. Especially not his crew’s. “But if punishment is what you want, punishment is what you’ll get. I will take the flogging in her stead.”