Nobody Likes Fairytale Pirates (24 page)

“This wearisome scuffle is over,
pirate.  You are finished.  I have won.  Obviously.”  The Gardener started
forward.  “No one can stand against me.  I am the deathless warrior of my
people!”  He flashed a mouthful of teeth which looked to have been filed to
points.  “While you can barely stand!”

Uriah rolled his eyes.  “I’m used
to it.” He calmly hacked off the end of the arrow with his blade to get it out
of his way, then stood straighter.  “And incidentally, I’m
still
winning.”

“Lie!”  The Gardener started
forward again.  “
I’ll kill you, you asshole!
 
I cannot be defeated!
”

Uriah shrugged.  “I can’t help the
fact that…”

“
WE DON’T LEAVE!
”  The
all-too familiar voice of his partner screamed in the distance from outside.  “
NO
MATTER WHAT!”

Uriah and the man both stopped and
looked towards the open window, then back at each other.  Uriah met the
Gardener’s eyes and there was the glint of recognition there, as if the man
identified the voice and knew what it meant.

Uriah swore to himself, realizing
that this fight would now be forgotten because the man’s real target had just
appeared on the field.

The door to the hall was thrown
open and a dozen more soldier poured into the room.

Uriah swore again, dashing for the
window.  In one movement, he smashed the Khopesh blade against the floor again
to produce a shower of sparks, and then leapt out the window as one of the
embers ignited the barrels of black powder.

The entire building rocked on its
foundations and the force of the blast knocked Uriah clear over the perimeter
wall and into the side of the building across from it.  He impacted the
sandstone and tumbled towards the ground, grasping desperately for anything to
slow down his fall.

He didn’t find much, and he hit the
ground hard enough to knock the wind out of him and most likely break several
bones.  He laid there for a moment, dazed and coughing, then staggered to his
feet, limping as fast as he could towards his partner and the wagon.

“Go!”  He weakly motioned with his
hand, wincing as the movement pulled open the wound to his chest.  “Go!”

“Didn’t I tell you to be
careful!?!”  Ransom screamed at him, somehow still able to sound relieved. 
“Huh!?!”  She turned to the Swab.  “What kind of condition is he in?”

“Bad.”  Ryle informed her darkly. 
“Real bad.”

“That
was
careful!”  Uriah
defended, trying to pull himself into the wagon and finding the effort
excruciating.

“He on fire?”  Ransom asked Ryle. 
“
Because if he’s one fire again…
”

“Nope.”  The Swab shook his head, cutting
her off.  He watched as Uriah all but fell into the back of the wagon.  “Well…
not anymore, anyway.  There’s smoke, but I think he’s just bleeding a lot.”

“And why doesn’t
that
surprise me?”  She spurred the horses onward.  “I don’t think there’s ever been
a sword he didn’t want to get stabbed with or a person he didn’t want to get
punched by.”

“To be fair,” Ryle interjected,
“his people make musical instruments out of their enemies’ skulls.  I’m willing
to give him the benefit of the doubt in the ‘fighting’ department.  With the
exception of my brother-in-law and the Kingdom of One, I’d put my money on him
against anyone.”

“Thank you, Swab.”  Uriah turned
around to make certain Ransom was unharmed.  “I’ll have you know that so far
tonight I’ve won…”

Uriah was suddenly yanked from the
back of the wagon and he tumbled onto the road, smacking his head on the
cobblestones.

Several soldiers stood over him,
and he immediately rolled to the side to avoid their sword strikes.  He kicked
the man who had grabbed him, then struck upwards to kill the second man.  The
first man recovered, but not before Uriah launched himself forward, grabbing
the soldier and snapping his neck.  Uriah used the man as a shield to protect
him from the third soldier’s attack, then cleaved his head in two with a
downward strike from his Khopesh.

The wagon continued on its way, as
several other Gardeners began hauling themselves into it, having caught up with
the slow-moving vehicle.

Dammit.

There was no way he’d be able to
catch it.  Not with his injuries.

Luckily, he knew his partner.

She wouldn’t stop, because if the
wagon stopped, they were all dead.

She’d go faster.  And at the next
crossroads, she’d turn… left.  For some reason, he was positive she’d turn
left.

He ran down an alley to the left,
throwing his shoulder into the door at the end of it and tumbling into
someone’s home.  He ignored the surprised screams of the occupants and barreled
through the rooms, knocking aside a heavyset man as he entered through the
front door.

Uriah jumped over a decorative iron
fence and kept running as quickly as his injuries allowed, ignoring the searing
pain from his arrow wound and the fact that he’d severely damaged his knee in
one of his many falls this evening.

His partner would go straight for a
block and then make another left, recognizing the fact that Uriah would
know
she’d take that route. 

He was sure of it.

He pushed his way through an
outdoor market on the next block, vaulted off one of the vendor’s tables, leapt
through the air over a stone wall… and landed back in the wagon, just in time
to cut one of the guards almost in half before the man could stab Ryle.

Ransom didn’t look at all surprised
by his sudden reappearance.  “Welcome back to the party.”

Uriah blocked the attack from one
of the remaining guards.  “Miss me?”

She smiled.  “Just enjoying a quiet
drive with my hostage.”

Ryle clubbed a guard over the head with
one of the shovels from the wagon and heaved him over the side.  “Can you
please tell her that she can’t drive this thing!?!”  He yelled at Uriah,
managing to use the shovel to somehow block several simultaneous attacks...
which was actually rather impressive.  “She can’t see the road!”

“Yes, because I’m sure the horses
will just run full speed into the side of a building.”  She snorted in
dismissal and spurred the horses to go faster.  “Idiot.”

“You could hit someone!”  The boy
protested, kicking another guard off the cart so that the man crashed into a
lamppost.

“In this town?”  Her voice was
incredulous and went up an octave.  “I like my odds that they’ll be an asshole
anyway.”

“She has a point, Swab.”  Uriah
agreed, killing the last Gardener.  “Not to sound intolerant, but I’ve been a
guest in this kingdom for the better part of a day now, and I’ve yet to meet a
single person I would feel sorry to see run over by stampeding horses.”

“How you doing?”  She called back
to him, sounding concerned.  “Still bleeding?”

“Sadly, yes.”  He made a face,
feeling distinctly pouty.  “And my sword broke.”

“Khopesh?”

“Other one.”

She shrugged like it was no big
deal.  “Meh.”

“I liked that one!”  He threw his
arms out.  “It was so light!”

“Probably why it broke.”  She
gestured to the back of the wagon.  “Just grab one of the ones the Gardeners
dropped when we kicked them off.”

He made a face again.  “They’re all
so clunky and dull.”  He tested the weight of one of the weapons in question,
then discarded it.  “Frankly, I’ve never been overly impressed with anything
from this place, as I’ve said many, many times.”

“I like their women.”  Ryle
volunteered.  “Does that count?”

“Shut up.”  They both chorused at
once.

Ryle crossed his arms over his
chest.  “I want to go home.”  He grouched.  

Uriah rolled his eyes.  “As much as
I would obviously
adore
listening to my victim fetishize an entire race
of women, I think that…”

The wagon jolted as the Gardener
captain dropped into the cart from one of the passing windows.

Ryle let out a startled sound by
the man’s abrupt appearance beside him, and automatically took a step back,
toppling over the edge of the wagon, and almost falling under the wheels of the
vehicle.  He was only holding onto the side of the cart by one hand, as he was dragged
along beneath it.

“Your coming has been foretold!” 
The Gardener captain cried in religious fervor, raising his weapon.  “You
cannot escape destiny!”

Ransom sighed in annoyance, not
bothering to turn around.  “I hate fucking ‘prophecies,’ Uriah, you know that.”

“I know that.”  Uriah nodded,
blocking the guard’s weapon.

“Shut up, you bitch!”  The Gardener
screamed at her.  “You always mocked me!”

“I have no idea who you are.”  She
told him honestly, then turned to Uriah for a ruling.  “’Rai?”

“Well… to be fair… that
does
sound like you, Dove.”  Uriah agreed.  “Big guy…”  He blocked another one of
the man’s attacks, trying to keep him at the back of the wagon and away from
Ransom.  “…leather… silver wolf… not too bright…”

“Can you take him?”  His partner
sounded serious now.

He was quiet for a moment,
straining to block another of the man’s blows.  “To be determined, Dove.”

“Uriah?”  There was a note of worry
in her tone.

“I am but a prisoner of my own
destiny, Dove.  Forever forced into situations which demonstrate my greatness
and confirm my superiority to those around me.”  He glanced at her, trying to
sound reassuring.  “I got this.”

“I cannot be defeated, corpse!” 
The man screamed again, unexpectedly lunging forward with his weapon to stab
Uriah’s shoulder.  The oddly shaped point dug into Uriah’s flesh, creating a
puncture wound which wouldn’t close.  He yanked the weapon free, then stabbed
forward again.  “I will finally kill that treacherous cow, and when I deliver
her heart and liver to…”

The rest of his words were cut off
as Uriah blocked the attack, spinning to the side to allow the man to lunge
past him, then smoothly stuck his Khopesh straight through the man’s stomach
from behind.  “Oops.”

The man looked down at the wound and
the hooked blade sticking from his body as if confused by it, his blood
spilling onto the wooden planks beneath his feet.

Uriah braced his foot on the man’s
back and yanked the blade free, the hooked end taking the man’s bowels out with
it.  He casually kicked the man’s body so that it toppled backwards into the
wagon.

“Ta-daa!”  He arched a smug brow at
the back of his partner’s head.  “What were you saying about me not being the
best swordsman around, Dove?  Because it seems to me like I just beat the best
warrior of
your
people, without much difficulty.”

She gave him a series of slow
sarcastic claps.  “Huzzah.”

Uriah chuckled. 

He casually leaned against the back
of her seat.  “Again, not to sound discriminatory, but maybe if your people
paid less attention to making sure every tile on their buildings is the correct
identical color, and
more
attention to not sucking, they wouldn’t suck. 
‘The overly proud usually have the least reason to be,’ as my mother used to
say.”

Ryle finally pulled himself back
onto the buckboard.  “Jeez, no one help me or…”  He trailed off when he saw
Ransom.  “
Hold onto the reins at least!
”  He grabbed for the leather
lines in question, which Ransom had dropped in order to give Uriah her round of
applause.  “It’s bad enough you can’t see where you’re going, but can you at
least
pretend
that we’re not on an out of control wagon?”

She slapped at his hands and
grabbed for the reins.  “I know what I’m doing!”

“Let her drive if she wants to
drive, Swab!”  Uriah turned to break up their disagreement.  “She knows what
she’s doing.”  He took on a profound tone.  “My partner can see things your
eyes can’t…”

“No, really can’t.”  Ransom chimed
in.  “For the last time, I don’t have super-powers.”

Uriah ignored that.  “…Adthian
magics have heightened her senses to the point that…”  He continued.

“Oh, shut up!”  Ryle snapped,
interrupting him.  “You always say that and it’s always a buncha crap.”  He
made an annoyed sound. 

“Yep.”  Ransom agreed.  “I’ve told
him that too.”

“It’s a better story!”  Uriah
argued, for what had to be the millionth time.  “The best story should win and
Rance being in some way psychic is just more interesting.”

“But it makes no sense for her
to…”  Ryle trailed off, looking at something over Uriah’s shoulder.  “Shit.”

Uriah spun around to see what it
was.

“I cannot be killed by any sword,
corpse
.” 
The Gardener captain announced, rising to his feet again, despite the fact that
Uriah could practically see straight through the man’s body from the gaping
wound in his midsection.  “I am the deathless warrior of my people!”  He
pointed at Ransom.  “And I will bring that bitch’s heart to my mother!”

“Why does his mother want my
heart?”  Ransom asked Uriah calmly. 

“Considering where we are, I’m
guessing it’s a ‘she’s prettier than me’ kind of thing.”  Uriah shrugged. 

“Probably true.”  Ryle volunteered
to the wagon at large.  ‘I don’t know his mom, but I’m guessing you’re prettier,
Ransom.”  He paused, thinking about the matter.  “
Dammit
, I love the
women here.  If it wasn’t for the fact that everyone is a fucking lunatic, I’d
move to this place.”

“Ah, the Adithians.”  Uriah heaved
a dramatic sigh, ignoring the boy.  “Always concerned with looks.  Your people
are so petty, Dove.”

“We can apparently create
un-killable madmen though,” Ransom retorted dryly, “so I mean, we’ve still got
that going for us.”

“Ummm…”  Uriah frantically moved to
block the man’s sudden attack.  “Best course of action, Dove?”

“Cut his fucking head off.”  She
suggested, as if that was obvious.  “If that doesn’t work, go for the arms.”