Chương 12: 11 Barkley Helmjerker

The lantern's light shifted back and forth with the ship's motion. Approaching our third day at sea, I no longer felt the movement. I leaned against the brig's banded bars, studying the cell's lone occupant. The half-Orc-half-Goblin's chest rose and fell, steady snores filling the lower hold. A chain dangled from a steel ring affixed to the wall, ending in a cuff latched around his ankle. Pirates on my ship? My eyes narrowed. Was this newcomer truly asleep, or was it a farce?

Did he study me as closely as I watched him? I stepped back, shaking my head. I couldn't truly blame Naomi after seeing a survivor, half-cooked and drifting. Saving his life was the right thing to do, pirate or otherwise. But if we hadn't gone to investigate the steam, we wouldn't have this complication, and our hands would be clean. My conscience twisted at the thought.

Still— My head tipped to the marine who sat on a low bench, watching the prisoner: Taxon, a quieter soldier with a wagering problem and a horrible poker face. I climbed up to the deck, forcing my shoulders to slacken. Lance's chiding voice echoed in my memory, berating me for being so uptight when an operation called for composure. The scent of sulfur hung heavy on the warm night air. I strode to the rail and leaned over the edge. Waves broke against the hull.

The steady churn of the ocean was the closest thing to silence at sea.

"Open Terminal," I said. My words were redundant. I didn't have to say them out loud. But I wasn't great at mental commands yet. The words helped. The overlay display ghosted into vision. Fortunately, interfacing with the terminal didn't cost mana. But if I tried to access it deep in the hold where I couldn't see the sky, I got a connection error.

"Quests," I said, and the two High Family Quests opened. <<Family Quest: Kill Puppetmaster>> My hands tightened on the rail: Puppetmaster—cousin killer. I banished the part of me that felt we were wasting time on this lower-level mission, the part of me that longed to join the other cousins in their hunt. I shook my head. My hesitation made no sense; I knew that. The Orange steel was crucial to the impending war effort. This wasn't a throwaway quest.

On top of that, there was a reason they called Puppetmaster cousin killer. I wasn't ready to face him. I needed levels and strength until I could face the monster as an equal. After what he did to me and my family— The skin on my forearms prickled as I remembered the day—I rubbed my wrist where his scaled claw had once dragged me away from my mother. I closed my eyes, taking deep, meditative breaths, grounding myself in the moment. The prickling eased. Lance had taught me how to pull myself out of my own head.

I found myself needing to do it more frequently lately. My fingers brushed the two metal vials tucked within a hidden pouch on the inside of my belt—Igor's mutagens. I couldn't afford to pull my father's influence to the surface. No, I was in the right place. Sparring with Elara honed my skills, but wouldn't earn me any new feats anytime soon. Completing quests and operating in the field was where the system really rewarded Cousins. Every low-level quest prepared me to face him.

Assuming the Aunts and Uncles of the High Family didn't take care of him first. I looked up, projecting the terminal onto the stars. The crack split the inky blue sky, the harsh red light burning brighter at night. I opened the second quest. <<Family Quest: Take the cursed artifact Prisoner's Retaliation from Puppetmaster. Return the handle to Granduncle >> <<Time to Seal Collapse: 04: 02: 04: 19: 32: 45>> My gaze locked on that timer again. Four months until Seal Collapse. What did that mean?

I peered up at the crack in the sky. I couldn't bring myself to hold my fingers up to it, to compare size. Even without measuring, I could see it was lengthening. The terminal blinked away as I lost focus on it, and I rubbed the wood grain of the bulwark. I was getting better at maintaining the terminal, but it still took focus. I turned away from the sea but stopped. Up on the quarterdeck, Naomi also stood transfixed in thought, staring out into the ocean.

My fearless team leader—the genius who thought that bringing a pirate on board was a good idea. I took a measured breath and scratched the back of my head. I had questioned her in front of the crew. I knew better. I owed her an apology. The problem was that she kept taking needless risks, and being a good subordinate didn't mean standing around while the helmsman steered into a reef. I started up the steps, unsure whether I would apologize or explain what I really thought about her recent calls.

Either way, we needed to get on the same page. She didn't turn as I approached, but remained fixed on the rail, staring out into the rapidly warming sea. I stopped a few paces off, leaning and planting an elbow on the bulwark.

"Hey, Naomi," I started, then cleared my throat.

"Listen, I'm sorry—" She inhaled sharply, blinking in surprise as she turned to me.

"Oh, Tony, sorry, did you say something?" I pursed my lips, my head tilting to the side.

"You good?"

"What, yeah," she rubbed her large fae eyes.

"Just listening."

"Right," I said.

"To, uh, brains?" She cast a meaningful glance back over the water.

"To something," she said. Then her posture straightened.

"Synaptic echoes."

"What's the prognosis?" I asked.

"Are we alone out here?" Her violet eyes flickered back to me.

"Alone enough."

"Right," I said, scratching my chest.

"So, look, I just wanted to say sorry about earlier, for challenging you in front of the crew." Her head bobbed slowly.

"Yeah, not very professional. How embarrassing for you." Heat flushed my cheeks.

"Hey, I'm trying here—" She snorted.

"You're supposed to call me out, dingus. You realize this is exactly why I requested you get put on my team, right?" she asked.

"I'm just saying I—" I cut off short.

"Wait, what did you say? You chose me?" She didn't answer but watched me like a teacher waiting for a slow student to catch up.

"But I thought—team placement was based on assignment from the Uncles and system algorithms."

"Recommendations are made," she confirmed, "and then team leaders get to make bids based on those suggestions. I was actually recommended Diago; I had to fight to get you instead."

"But why?" I stammered.

"Look, I have to check every box, look at the wider picture. I see a vent of steam rising from the ocean. I investigate. I find a survivor. I need to know what he knows."

"But—""You," she cut back in, "you're dead set on the prize. Always pushing forward, you don't get distracted, and sometimes, that's exactly what we need. Sure, you're a tex good swordsman, but what I really need is your focus and your passion. Be the foil to my pragmatism. You might not like me, Tony, but I need you." My brain stalled for a full three heartbeats.

"I, um, don't dislike you," I mumbled. That wasn't always true.

"So," she said at length.

"We did things my way this time. What's the Tony take?" My head still buzzed with new context.

"I, um—" I caught up to the moment and folded my arms.

"You wasted two of our healing potions on that pirate," I said.

"That was a mistake. We're going to need those." Her head bobbed once.

"Fair."

"I mean—" I continued.

"If he ever gets back to Paradise, he's going to hang anyway, so why waste the resource?" Her jaw worked.

"I don't think he would have survived his injuries without those potions."

"And he's not exactly talkative now," I pointed out.

"Our murderous guest is snoring in his cradle still, probably dreaming about cutting throats and plundering settlements." She bit her lip.

"I'll give it to you. This was probably a mistake on my part," she said.

"I'll be more careful with our resources in the future." I blinked, stunned that the princess was actually listening to little old me.

"Tony," she said.

"If something happens to me, I need you to take charge."

"Woah," I said, holding my hands up.

"Where's this coming from? I'm not going to let anything happen to—""We need contingencies," Naomi cut in, "and I need you as my second." I remained silent.

"Just so you're aware," she said, holding her hand to the side, "This is what we're paying the smuggler with." You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author. A mahogany box blinked into her hand. A carved decorative latticework twisted across its surface. Grabbing the lid, she cracked it open. Twenty sapphires gleamed back at me, nested in blue silk recesses. I opened my terminal.

<<Item: The Sea's Tears>> <<The wielder of one of these sapphires can cast Water Bolt at will, inflicting bludgeoning, piercing, and ice damage. These gems can also be thrown and destroyed in the process to cast Greater Water Blast >>"Water Bolt," I asked skeptically.

"You don't see that in action very often."

"Inferior damage types for lower-tier spells," Naomi explained as she snapped the lid shut and dismissed the box to her inventory.

"Any idea where those damage types might matter more?" My eyes widened.

"Water spells would work best on Scorched Rock, the elemental island of fire. Vulcans and Cind-Primords will be vulnerable to these damage types." She grunted.

"This smuggler—Ignis—I think he's supplying insurgent groups in Scorched Rock with weapons to fight the Ash Lords."

"So Ignis is more than a smuggler," I said.

"He's a revolutionary?" She shook her head.

"No doubt, Ignis is no more than a black marketeer, following the money. The possible revolutionaries are going to be on the other end of his contract." I hummed briefly in acknowledgment, then added, "Got it."

"I'm keeping the Tears in my inventory," she said.

"If I die, they should be ejected, and you've got to grab them. Finishing the mission will be your job."

"I'll make sure that's not necessary," I said.

"But thanks for telling me." A hooded light washed onto the deck below, and we peered down to find Grixx scanning the lower level. He shifted, noticed us, and scampered up the stairs.

"Grixx!" I hissed, trying to keep my voice low at this late hour.

"I swear if you're putting eggs in boots—""Cap'n sent me," he whispered back. Twitch's nose ventured out from the goblin's vest, testing the air.

"Prisoner's awake." Naomi and I glanced at each other. In the lower hold, we surrounded the brig with Captain Thalendris and Lieutenant Stormsong. Naomi had cast Mind Link, forming a direct communication channel between our brains. Our new friend sat upright on his cot, wincing in pain with every movement from the burns that marked his flesh. Much improved from the injuries he had sustained, he was still a long way from fighting shape. He watched us, eyes reflecting predatory intelligence.

"Tony, scan him with your terminal," Naomi said directly in my mind. I tried. <<System Notice: No Connection. Please go somewhere where you can see the sky. >> Sighing, I hurried over to a gun port, flipping it open.

<<Name: Barkley Helmjerker>> <<Race: Half-Goblin>> <<Class: None>> <<Rank: Reaver, 2nd Mate>> <<Lvl: None>> <<Total: Not synced to Ourabora>> <<Equivalent Level: Martial-7>> <<Stats: >> Might (STR) — 7 Will (WIS) — 5 Focus (INT) — 6 Resilience (CON) — 6 Grace (DEX) — 6 Cunning (CHA) — 9 I swallowed, double-checking his equivalent level and his cunning. Both put me on edge. I relayed the information to Naomi telepathically. She could have scanned him herself, but this way, she could focus on the mind link.

"What's your name?" Naomi asked, voice low. He hesitated before answering.

"Sammuel," he said. I inhaled, ready to call him out—"Don't!" Naomi cut me off over the link.

"His lies tell us plenty. He doesn't know what we know." I shut my mouth, and a cold sweat prickled across my brow. Best to defer to Naomi in matters of deception.

"What's your vessel?" she asked. He hesitated again.

"The High Blue." Another silence, both sides guarded.

"I'm going to set a trap," Naomi explained to me over the link.

"I'm going to make an assumption. If he latches onto it, it means he's keeping secrets. If he corrected us, we know he's acting in good faith. Don't interrupt."

"Merchant vessel?" she asked. I swallowed, feeling like the child in the room. Mind games were not my expertise.

"Sometimes," he said.

"More often, privateer."

"He corrected you," I said mentally.

"But we know he's a pirate!"

"He's good," she returned.

"Quiet, and let me work."

"What was your position on the High Blue?"

"Second Mate," he said, wincing as he touched a weeping burn on his neck. That much was true.

"You say privateer?" Naomi said, leaning against the far wall and folding her arms.

"Whose letter of marque do you carry?" Barkley took each of us in, his lean jaw rippling—a half Feykin, a human, an Orc, and Shad-Feykin. The safer bet would be that we were from Paradise, but he couldn't be sure.

"Paradise," he said.

"And Wake. We took contracts from both sides." The answer was both damning and neutral—a confession of a lesser offense to conceal a greater sin.

"You said merchant sometimes," Naomi said.

"What cargo?"

"Fauna," he said, flashing teeth more fang than tusk.

"From Prime Rock."

"Dinosaurs," Elara said. Her Orcish biceps flexed.

"Dangerous cargo." Barkley shrugged.

"Pays well."

"What happened to your ship?" Naomi asked, resuming the lead. The gleam faded from the pirate's eye.

"It was a beast. A titan." I exchanged a glance with Captain Thalendris.

"Tethyra?" The captain asked.

"Not the Kraken, no," Barkley said, tensing, then wincing.

"It was a turtle."

"A turtle?" I said, a chuckle escaping me.

"A turtle ripped your ship apart."

"Laugh if you want," Barkley growled.

"I'm telling you, it was a turtle, like an island of brass. Many times larger than our ship." We exchanged uneasy glances.

"There is no giant turtle documented in the World Archipelago," I said flatly.

"Be sure to tell it that when it's blasting your crew with jets of burning vapors," Barkley said tersely.

"The known world doesn't exactly have enough ocean to hide island-sized turtles," I said.

"Call me a liar," Barkley said.

"Makes total sense. I'm sure my imagination did this!" he jerked a finger at glistening burns on his neck and face. That was fair. Something had attacked him, but titans didn't just appear.

"Do you think," Captain Thalendris started, voice tight.

"Whatever it was, it may have come from beyond Jorg?" My spine prickled. A Titan, crossing the world serpent? No such thing had happened as far as history could tell. What was going on in the archipelago? Nothing had been the same since—my lips pressed together tightly—since the crack appeared in the sky. The fissure that started the countdown. My hands flexed, then relaxed. I forced my shoulders to loosen. Relax. I didn't need to figure this out alone. Surely the Uncles and Aunts of Paradise were working on it.

"Tell me everything," Naomi said.

"Start at the beginning." Barkley shifted, shaking his ankle and rattling the chain.

"Is this necessary?" he asked.

"Until you tell me a convincing story, yes," Naomi said. He sighed, intertwining his hands and tapping his forefingers together.

"We were sailing to Faerie Rock, transporting some—let's call them primal lizards for a Seelie client. Clear waters; hadn't seen another ship in days, then the water started to boil." The corners of Naomi's eyes creased as she took it all in without interruption.

"First, we thought dragon, but the skies were clear," Barkley said.

"Then, naturally, we thought of the Kraken, but Tethyra should have been over a week away. The water grew shallow beneath us as it emerged."

"The turtle?" I asked doubtfully.

"The colossus," he agreed, scratching his nose.

"We nearly tipped as it came up beneath us. The thing grated our hull like brass on wood. We shot the monster's shell, not a crack, not a dent. Then it—" he cut off. Naomi's commentary came across the telepathic link." I'm listening to his thought patterns. He almost slipped something he didn't want us to know." I cleared my throat softly, suddenly very glad Naomi was on our side.

"It attacked," he said, censoring whatever details he didn't want us to know. He took a deep breath, curling in on himself.

"Its eyes burned like stars. And it breathed out a cloud of scalding vapor."

"And this vapor ripped your ship to pieces?" Captain Thalendris asked doubtfully. Barkley shook his head.

"Its claws did that after it broiled us." He went silent, head slowly sagging.

"Then you found me," he said, smiling politely, "and that's the end of that." His knee bent, the chain and shackle jingling.

"Could you help me out with this? I assure you it's unnecessary."

"Love to," Naomi said, starting forward, then she paused.

"Just one problem."

"What's that?" the pirate asked.

"You've been lying to us," she said.

"Barkley." His body locked in place, eyes widening.

"See," Naomi sighed, "one of your crewmates survived just long enough to answer a few questions." I shifted in confusion. There hadn't been any other survivors.

"He can't know we can access the system. He'll know we're Cousins," she explained in terms my tiny pea brain could understand. I suppressed a smirk. Clever, I would have exposed us instantly.

"We know you're pirates," she continued out loud, "and I hate it when passengers repay our generosity with bad faith."

"Who?" he asked.

"Who survived?"

"Didn't catch his name," Naomi said.

"Well, he lied," Barkley doubled down.

"I'm not a pirate."

"I suppose that will be for a tribunal to decide," Naomi said.

"When we put in port at Paradise Rock." Barkley sat back against the wall of his cell.

"You won't take me to Paradise," he said resolutely.

"What makes you so sure?" I asked.

"I've been voting to throw you back into the water, tough guy." Barkley scanned the lower hold.

"This is a Paradise ship," he said, giving the walls and the beams a once-over.

"Falcon class." He smiled smugly at us.

"You don't look like Paradise Navy to me. Be honest. You're smugglers. Putting to port in Paradise Rock is just as much a risk to you as it is to me." My team went silent, neither correcting nor validating his assessment.

"Look, pirate, smuggler, I don't judge. You saved me, and I owe you a debt. I can join your crew, pay you back!" I glanced at Naomi, unsure. We were playing the role of smugglers. Did pirates and smugglers drink at the same table? Did keeping him locked up expose or protect the crew?

"I smell the sulfur in the air," he said at last.

"I know where we are—nearing Scorched Rock. I know it well; I can guide you. Need extra muscle. I know every pirate port in the archipelago, the codes and signals to get you in without getting your throat cut. I know which captains we can use and which to avoid. Take this thing off me. I'll be your man!" Naomi turned to me, and I shook my head slightly. Her chin dipped once in acknowledgment of my unspoken counsel.

"Get comfortable, Mister Helmjerker. The moment I need a pirate, I'll know exactly where to find you." <<Time to Seal Collapse: 04: 02: 04: 18: 43: 33>>