Pirate's Honor, page 3
It lunged, and with it came a swarming cloud of bats, screeching and biting at him. But Torius was beyond fear. He met the assault with a spinning dodge that took him under the worst of the swarm, and drove his cutlass up into the creature's spindly chest.
It howled and lashed at him with its clawed hands. He parried one with his dagger and fingers clattered to the floor. The other gouged furrows in the flesh of his shoulder. Torius spun away and swung his cutlass around again, lower this time. One of the thing's knee joints snapped under the assault. It went down, grabbing at him as it fell, but its claws met only steel, and more of its fingers fell away.
Torius took a step back, then thought better of relishing his impending victory. After all, who knew what foul magic this thing might hurl at him before it was destroyed? He lunged forward once more, slashing his cutlass down on its fragile neck. The vile head rolled away, and the creature finally stilled.
Pale light flooded the chamber, and he whirled around to see that the veil of darkness had vanished. A cheer rose from the pirates who still battled the zombies, illuminated by the light from the cave mouth. Some of them were slashed and bleeding, but they were all still standing. Torius heaved a sigh of relief and grinned. Grogul was moving with a bit more coordination now, and Torius paused long enough to rouse the half-orc.
"Get up! Come on! Up, you great green killing machine!" He hauled on the bosun's arm, and Grogul responded, at least to the point of making it to his feet and hefting his axe. Some of the undead were already shuffling back into the chamber. "Come on, man! There're zombies to hack!" Torius let out a cackle of laughter and dragged his comrade back into the fray.
∗ ∗ ∗
"Hate zombies," Grogul said, hawking and spitting once again.
"Could be worse," Torius said, wiping the last of the noisome slime from his blade and snapping it into its scabbard. "She could have kissed you."
The comment elicited some nervous laughter from his scratched and lacerated crew. Everyone bore some injury, though most were minor. Grogul's momentary paralysis had passed, and other than the cut on his arm, he seemed fine. The floor was littered with zombie parts, the stench of rotten meat overpowering. Footing in the corridor was treacherous, but the main chamber remained relatively clear, except for one zombie that Grogul had splattered against the tall stone throne in the middle of the room. A tangle of broken stone and pulped zombie cluttered the floor, but nothing else faced them.
"Come on." Torius clapped his bosun's shoulder. "There's got to be something here worth plundering, eh lads? Let's look for the wealth of my dreams' desire."
The suggestion brought a chorus of agreement, and his pirates fanned out.
"Careful now! Don't trip any more traps!" Torius retrieved his flame stone and held it high.
They proceeded to carefully examine the chamber, and found a few items of interest—baubles and trinkets that might fetch a few scarabs in the bazaars of Katapesh. But there was no hoard of treasure. Torius sighed in frustration.
"Have a look here, Captain!" Grogul waved him over.
Torius strode over and peered down at the small stone slab that had been revealed when the throne toppled. It was clearly a secret stash, but the irregular hole in the top looked suspiciously like some kind of lock.
"Damn! I knew I should have brought Snick along!" Aside from being an excellent engineer, Snick had a knack for locks which she blushingly attributed to her misspent youth.
"Don't need a gnome to open this!" Grogul protested, pulling a short crowbar from his satchel. "Just gimme a second."
"Careful, Grogul! We found one—"
But the half-orc had already jammed the implement into the gap at the edge of the panel and leaned his weight into it. There was a loud metallic crack, and the stone slab tilted up.
Maybe Celeste's prophecy was right, Torius thought as the contents of the secret chamber glittered in the light of his flame stone.
Grogul yelled, "Look out!" and Torius looked up just in time to see a huge slab of stone swinging down from the wall right at his head.
"Sonofa—" he managed, just before the stone sent him tumbling into darkness.
∗ ∗ ∗
I'm dreaming, Torius thought, as a woman sauntered out of the mists, lustrous ebony hair cascading in waves over her perfect shoulders. Skin like fresh milk, clad in only the most gossamer of veils, teased his eyes. Nothing else could be this good.
She didn't just move, she undulated, her curves swaying in ways that no woman's curves had a right to. She stopped before him, lifting one graceful hand to run a finger down the line of his jaw. Her other hand caressed him significantly lower, and he realized he was naked. A shiver ran up his spine. Yes, this was going to be a good dream ...
"Hello, Torius," she said, a perfect smile gracing her perfect lips.
"Vreva!" Startled, he realized that he knew her. Vreva Jhafae, courtesan nonpareil, plied her trade in the slave-market port of Okeno, among the masters of the Fleshfairs and the captains of the yellow-sailed slave galleys. Her favors commanded fees that would have supported Torius's entire ship and crew for a month. Though he despised her trade, she was also one of Torius's most valuable informants.
Torius had learned years ago that a pirate—at least one who wished to retire with more than scars and sea stories to his name—needed to be more than a simple brigand waiting for the next merchant to sail past. Torius specialized in valuable rarities—usually artwork, magical items or religious relics—pursuing specific items based on specific information. Attack and escape was his policy; he took only the targeted treasure and avoided unnecessary killing, preferring to leave his victims alive for future plundering. This he accomplished through a network of well-placed—and well-paid—informants in ports around the Inner Sea. Vreva was one of his best.
"I see that you recognize me, even in your dreams." She smiled with lips made for sin and no other purpose. "How sweet."
"What are you doing here?" He pushed away her questing hands. His struggles seemed futile, as if he could not touch her, but she could touch him.
"I have a message for you, Torius." Her fingertips ran expertly over his body, and his body responded. "Oh, I see at least part of you is getting my message."
"Stop it, Vreva!" He stepped back. Torius realized that this must be a spell, a magical projection of her into his dream. Since Vreva didn't cast spells, it meant that she had paid a wizard to cast the magic on her, which was expensive. Which in turn meant that it must be important. "You didn't invade my dreams just to seduce me. What do you want?"
"Now, Torius. If you want my message, you have to let me give you all of it." She smoothed the gossamer gown against her curves. "But if you insist on addressing business before pleasure, very well. I have an opportunity for you, if you're in a position to act quickly. Visit me soon, and you may reap a valuable reward."
"What reward?" he demanded, willing himself clothed. It wasn't armor, but it made him feel more secure, at least against her.
"The rest of my message ..." She sidled up to him again, ignoring his question. The fabric of her diaphanous gown tented across her upturned breasts, more enticement than concealment. He held his ground, trying to ignore her body pressing against his. The dark pools of her eyes fixed his gaze even as her flowery, musky scent threatened to overwhelm his restraint. He clenched his jaw until his head pounded. "...is more intimate."
"Vreva, you can go now!" She wasn't even paying attention to him.
"Torius, this is only a dream." She pressed closer, until her sweet breath filled his mouth with every word. "Besides, the spell is already paid for ..."
∗ ∗ ∗
Celeste slithered back and forth across the confines of the cabin, fraught with worry. She'd been watching over Torius since Grogul had returned with the unconscious captain slung over his shoulder more than an hour ago.
"Bah! He'll be fine. Just a crack on the head." The bosun had deposited Torius in his bunk. "But if this is all the captain desires, he needs to work on his dreams." He dumped the meager pile of plunder onto the table and stomped off.
Celeste looked over the cache—a few handfuls of silver and gold coins, some baubles and jewelry, and a couple of scrolls that she had yet to identify—and hissed. Something was wrong; how could she have misconstrued this pitiful pile as a prophecy of wealth? Yet she was sure that her sightings and research had been accurate. This foray should have realized Torius's dreams' desire for wealth, or she had made a grave error.
Torius stirred under the sheet, turning his head and muttering nonsense. Snick, who had a modicum of healing lore, had helped her undress the captain and tended his scratches and cuts before leaving him to her care. Celeste had draped a damp cloth on his forehead. He wasn't feverish, but he hadn't woken, either. Now he appeared to be in the throes of some horrid nightmare.
This is all my fault, she thought with a wave of guilt. I sent him in there, and now he's lying here senseless!
Her coils writhed as she lifted the cloth with a flick of her magic, dampened it in the basin, and replaced it on his forehead. He tossed his head and mumbled, but she held the cloth in place.
"Please," she said, focusing on his tortured features. Though not particularly devout, she was willing to plead with any force in the universe if it would help him survive. "Please don't let him die ..."
"No ...don't ..."
"Oh, you poor dear," she said, leaning close, caressing him gently with the tip of her tail. Fleetingly, she longed to hold him with arms she didn't have. Their intervals of intimacy—when she imbibed a magical potion to assume human form—were few and far between. Though it felt strange to hold him close with arms and legs, she relished the pleasure it allowed them to share. But lately, with their funds dangerously low, there was no money for extravagances like potions. Over the last few weeks, it was all Torius could afford to keep the crew fed and the ship in order. No money for them ...no expenditure for personal pleasures ...
"Vreva ..." he mumbled, and Celeste stopped short.
"What?" She leaned close to catch the word. It had sounded like ...
"Vreva! Please!"
Celeste reared back, a quiet hiss escaping her throat as a sudden surge of anger suffused her, stiffening her coils. She knew that name, knew who and what that woman was. Torius was dreaming of her!
"His dreams' desire," she said, remembering her own prophecy.
Torius stirred under the thin sheet, twisting and turning, and she could see plainly that the dream had aroused him. He was dreaming of that woman, with her arms and legs and her courtesan's ways. He was making love to her!
She hissed in anger and lashed forward, plunging her fangs into his shoulder.
"Ow!" Torius vaulted up out of his bunk, scrambling away and reaching for his sword. Before he drew it from the scabbard, however, he blinked and recognized his surroundings, then looked down at the bleeding holes in his shoulder. "Celeste! You bit me!"
"How astute you are to notice!" She knew there was really no danger in her venom for Torius; he had become inured, and even mildly addicted to it over the years. She looked down pointedly and said, "You're lucky I bit your shoulder!"
He looked down again and noticed his own state of arousal. "What?" He grabbed the sheet and wrapped it around his waist, which didn't really conceal much. "What are you talking about, Celeste? Why did you bite me?" He hung up his sword and leaned back against the bunk, massaging the lump on his head. "And why does my head feel like a smith's been using it for an anvil?"
"I bit you," Celeste seethed, "because you were dreaming of her!" Then, slightly abashed: "And your head hurts because you were knocked unconscious. Grogul brought you back, and I was tending you. But then you started dreaming—dreaming of Vreva! Don't deny it! You were calling her name!"
"As a matter of fact, Celeste, I wasn't dreaming of her. She invaded my dream with magic." He rose and retrieved his trousers, struggling to pull them on in his current condition. "She had a message for me. A business proposition."
"A business proposition?" She nodded to the bulge in his trousers. "Her business or yours?"
"Mine." He grabbed a shirt and pushed his arms into the sleeves, wincing at the raw scratches and the new wound in his shoulder. "And I admit, she was trying to seduce me. She always tries to seduce me. It's like a game she never gets tired of playing. But it was just a dream, Celeste."
"It looked to me like she was more than trying to seduce you!"
"Celeste, you have to understand one thing about men." He opened the cabin door, shouted for someone to fetch Grogul, and turned back to her. "We don't have control over our ...physical responses to things like that."
"You don't?" That seemed unbelievable to her. How could a creature not have control over its own appendages? "Why not?"
"I don't know why, but that's the way it is." He came to her and placed his hands on where her shoulders would have been if she had them. "And you don't have to be jealous of Vreva Jhafae. The woman's a prostitute."
Celeste knew Torius's feelings about people who sold their sexual favors, but it still didn't completely alleviate her concerns. Before she could reply, however, Grogul entered the cabin.
"Good to see you on an even keel, Captain!" he said with a grin and a salute. "You took a nasty crack to the noggin. You feelin' all right?"
"A headache is all. Everyone else all right?"
"Oh, aye. Just some scratches and such. Nothin' a good scrubbin' and poultice won't cure. Everyone's fit for action."
"Good. And did we get anything from that cavern?"
"Might keep us in grog for a fortnight, Captain, but it wasn't enough to write home about. The crew ain't too happy about that." Grogul waved toward the table and frowned. "Oh, and a couple of scrolls that I couldn't read. Celeste said she'd take a look at 'em."
"Well, no matter. Set course north for Okeno. Vreva's got a job for us."
"Aye, sir!" The half-orc's frown deepened. "Don't much care for that city, but business is business." Grogul left, and the sounds of the crew preparing to haul anchor reverberated through the ship.
Torius turned to Celeste. "Please plot our course to Okeno. I'm going to see if I can't find something to ease this headache ...and maybe a bandage for my shoulder."
He left her in the cabin, vacillating between anger, jealousy, and guilt. Celeste knew they couldn't turn down an opportunity for income, and Vreva had put them onto good jobs in the past. Still ...Celeste's tail twitched. She didn't trust the woman, and she and Grogul shared a dislike of Okeno. The city of slavers made her nervous.
paizo.com #2495541, Ronald Hartman
Chapter Three
Friends in Low Places
Torius glared at the Okeno waterfront and gritted his teeth. At a young age, he had learned to hate the color yellow. It made him both furious and nauseous at the same time. Unfortunately, the sheltered bay was named Yellow Harbor for good reason. Crowded with its infamous fleet of yellow-sailed slave galleys and the sprawling markets of the Fleshfairs, both sea and shore were resplendent with that particular hue.
He wrinkled his nose as they sailed into the harbor; downwind of the city proper, the telltale stench of slavery filled the air. Bloated corpses—slaves who had outlived their usefulness or died in transit to the city—bobbed on the gentle swells. So prevalent was the disposal practice that a city ordinance stipulated that such "refuse" was to be discarded only on the outflowing tide, so as not to clog the harbor. A permanent school of sharks—as well as more dire denizens of the sea—patrolled just outside the breakwater to eagerly dispose of the offal.
His gorge rose in his throat as he spotted the emaciated body of a child bobbing among the flotsam. Not today, he thought, wrenching his attention away from the pitiful sight. I can't do anything about it today ...
"Dock us as far away from the slaver fleet as you can manage, Grogul," he ordered, scowling at the long galleys docked in precise rows.
"How do you feel about Hermea?" the half-orc asked with a similar scowl. "That's far away."
"Just dock the ship." He turned to his engineer. "Snick, are we rigged for mayhem?"
"Aye, Captain!" The gnome had a new hat, a puce one that matched her hair no better than the previous. Actually, it looked like the same hat, dyed a different color and now sporting a peacock feather. "Lookin' as dangerous as a dragon with a toothache!"
"Good."
In Okeno, you looked dangerous or you looked like potential merchandise. Non-slaver merchant ships that visited the port often found themselves pursued by the swift and heavily armed slave galleys upon their departures. Torius's goal was to look as dangerous as possible. That meant loaded ballistae at every port; sentries fore, aft, and in the crow's nest at all times with loaded crossbows openly displayed; and every member of the crew wearing at least one weapon, preferably two, on his or her hip. Even Soursop the cook wore a pair of heavy cleavers at his belt when he ventured on deck to empty the slop buckets.
Celeste, unfortunately, had to stay below throughout their stay. If even one slaver caught sight of her, they would likely attack Stargazer right at the dock. She was unusual enough to sell for a fortune on the slave block.
They docked the ship with little trouble, and bereft of a first mate, Torius haggled with the dockmaster himself. Grogul offered, but the captain didn't want to add to the body count in the bay if the dockmaster angered the half-orc. At last, with the dock lines secure and scowling pirates lining the rails, he was ready to go ashore to conduct his business with Vreva Jhafae.
"I'll need a shore party, Grogul; one not including you. I want you aboard Stargazer in case there's trouble."
"Figured you would, sir, so I picked Joss to head 'em. He's solid." He waved the pirates forward.
"Good." Torius eyed them; three men and a woman, all armed and looking ready for action. He knew he could depend on them in a fight, but wasn't so sure that he could depend on any of them keeping their heads on straight where they were going. Torius had donned his kaftan and head scarf—his typical garb when ashore in these southern ports—as had the shore party. It was best to blend into the crowd, and there was no lack of rich slavers and their entourages of bodyguards in Okeno. Joss grinned maniacally, his gap-toothed smile alone enough to scare most slavers into a case of bowel flux. Torius nodded his approval. "Nobody leaves the ship by themselves, Grogul. If you need something from one of the markets, assign a detail of no less than four."
