Tales of Myth & Magic: The Corsair's Ransom (PlaysWithFire & Cuttroatcorsair)

[PlaysWithFire]

The Corsair’s retreating footsteps were the only sound. Even the sea had quieted in anticipation.

Alandra slowly, painfully raised her head from her sprawled position. Her knees and elbows throbbed and stung where she’d hit the stairs, and there was an odd ache in her middle as she pushed back the curtain of dark hair that had fallen in front of her face. She didn’t want to look. She’d spent weeks and weeks praying for a chance to leave her prison and walk the decks, to breathe fresh air and feel the wind in her hair. Now, though… The captain’s words hung in the air. Dread clawed at her throat. She didn’t want to look, but she had to, so she did.

Her breath froze in her throat. Pirates. Everywhere. They cluttered the deck around her, frozen mid task, some staring at the Corsair’s back with suspicion. Another silent moment passed. Eyes raked her prone frame, the tension thick across the deck. One, a large man with massive shoulders and wind-burned skin, took a hesitant step towards her, a leer twisting his mouth. Another followed, and another, and another, circling her like wild dogs. Alandra sprang up, tensed, fear twisting sickly in her stomach, the sea wind tugging at her gown and tossing her hair. Her movement seemed to encourage them. The tension snapped.

They pounced.

There were too many to fight off, she knew right away. She whirled in place, her heart hammering in her ribs, hands outstretched. Power trickled through her, but after months of battling black magic on a daily basis, it was not enough. Her channels were exhausted, she was exhausted. A hand snatched at her arm. She hurled a feeble bolt of energy at it. The man crumpled, unharmed but unconscious. Someone grabbed her outstretched hands and she grappled with them before wrenching herself away, toppling into another pirate. They cackled and hooted at her. A beefy arm clamped around her middle, drawing her backwards. “No! NO!” She thrashed, screaming as dozens of dirty hands clawed at her body.


War raged in her mind. She couldn’t. She couldn’t, she’d sworn the highest oath, it was her duty to protect not only the people of this world but the Council as well. Chesree, her mission, the information in her head, it was all part of that oath of secrecy. If she broke that, she’d betray everything she stood for and believed in. Everything.

And if she didn’t? If she didn’t… Alandra cast her gaze wildly for the Corsair, catching a glimpse of his back through the crowd. The stench of unwashed bodies and stale rum smothered her. Nails dragged at her arms, pulling at the shoulder of her gown, grasping her hair, anything they could reach. Terror choked her.
If she didn’t give the Corsair what he wanted, she realized, she would die here. Her body would live on, but she would not. She’d be as good as dead.

Captain Nieman’s face rose in her mind. You must live, stay alive, milady! he’d pleaded aboard his ship. You must return to us, whatever the cost, do what you have to, child, whispered Pravda Ruuse as Alandra had prepared to leave for her mission. The older woman’s gentle brown eyes were grave. This is the single greatest task in the history of our order. Do what you have to, but you must return to us… A long, sharp face with greying eyebrows and analytical green eyes peered at her over a stack of books. There may come a time when you must forsake what you stand for in order to succeed in your mission, he’d said to her. You may have to endure great pains, or do things you would never do otherwise. When that time comes, remember: your mission and your life are one, and it is your duty to protect it and return here, no matter what you must do…


Return. Whatever the cost. Alandra had paid dearly already. And now, she would pay again, with her oath. She would betray her mission to save it.


“Stop!!! No, Corsair, stop! Please, I’ll tell you…–It’s a meeting place!!!” she screeched at his disappearing back above the din, her eyes shining with unshed tears as his crew fought over her flesh like starving wild animals. “Chesree!! It’s a secret meeting place for the Council!!”

[Cuthroatcorsair]

"HOLD!" The command echoed across the deck, impossible as that seemed, and most of the crew stopped dead in their tracks and took a step back. Most, but not all. Those that did not knew full well the consequences of mutiny, but were too crazed with lust to pay any heed to the captain's command. At a nod from the Corsair a single pirate, the one that had been first to move for the woman, drew a long knife and stepped back into the small group of five men that were still attempting to tear the witch's clothing off. Mere moments later the deck was stained with their blood and littered with their corpses. They could easily be replaced at the next port. "There will be whores enough when we make port. Carver..." The Corsair turned to address the man at the helm. "Set course for Durn." The helmsman nodded as the captain turned back to the large man currently standing over Alandra. "Bring her." Then he spun and returned to his cabin.

When the pirate finally led the young woman back into her prison, the Corsair was standing at the table studying a map, the very same map that had alerted him to the importance of this Chesree village in the first place. "Leave us and close the doors." He said without turning around. The pirate nodded and silently withdrew, finally sheathing the long knife he carried. "Don't mind Khaj, he may be large and brutish, and I've never seen a better fighter, but there isn't a more loyal man on my crew. He would only hurt you if I gave him leave." He didn't bother mentioning that he actually had given the man leave, only to rescind it a moment later when she confessed her secret. Looking up from the map, he finally turned to face her. "Now, why is it that you want so badly to attend this meeting?"

[PlaysWithFire]

She stood in the middle of the cabin, hair a mess, gown hanging off one shoulder. There were dirty smudges and scratches on her flesh and her skirts were spattered with pirate blood, but the mage held her chin high and met the Corsair’s gaze evenly. There was no resignation in her eyes, no fear, no hesitance. Only the hard resolve of a woman who’d just taken the plunge and wasn’t looking back. She’d come to realize a few things during her brief turmoil on deck. She had to get back to the Council, and if she must break every vow to get there, she would.


And so, for the first time, Alandra answered the Corsair’s questions.


She lifted her hands in warning. “I was only told what I needed to know, which was very little. Three months ago I was given a mission by a single Council member and a Pravda of the Order in a rather…unorthodox way. I was to venture aboard The Sapphire, procure an ancient map, and go straight to the village of Chesree where they would meet me in secret. This was a delicate matter and Elysium is full of unwanted eyes and ears, so they chose to convene elsewhere, apparently. They told me nothing beyond that, except that this map was of paramount importance to the magical community.” Alandra stepped forward to stand opposite the pirate and rested her fingertips on the table. Her brow wrinkled in thought. “I was to tell no one of this. They made me swear an oath. They trusted me with their secrecy… As for the map, well, I did find it. And when I touched it, the magic that filled the parchment was released into me. The map itself was useless.” She breathed deeply, watching him. “Whatever information they want so desperately, I now carry in my mind, and I intend to finish my task and return to them."

[Cuthroatcorsair]

Interesting. So the council itself was either largely unaware of or actively concealing her mission and its purpose. No doubt they would pay handsomely not only for her safe return, but also for the secrecy of the mission to be maintained. A few choice words in the ear of the wrong enemy could easily prove to be their undoing. He would have to tread carefully, however, as any meeting to exchange hostage and gold would most certainly be a trap. The supplies he would acquire in Durn would be more necessary than ever before. "What you intend is of no interest to me. I am sure you intended to keep your oath, yet that no longer holds your tongue. Intentions are as useful for someone in your position as mud is for sailing."

He paused and looked down at the map again, his eyes following the thin dark red line that wove its way from their, or rather her, current position to the small village of Chesree. That was one of the novelties of blood maps, they would continue to chart an accurate course for as long as the giver of the blood was nearby. "Tell me more of this map. How old was it? Who created it? Why can you not access its information?" He had no doubt she was telling him the truth on that last point. When it came to the nuances of mystical artifacts, things were rarely straightforward or clear and this map was no exception.

[PlaysWithFire]

Alandra gave him the tiniest knowing smile. “Oh, I’ve kept my oath. You’ll take me exactly where I intend to be. My plans will fall into place.” She didn’t have a plan. What she did have was a curious pirate king, and undoubtedly, he would eventually present her with an opportunity to finish her mission. After all, he couldn’t keep her forever, and if he wanted to figure out what was in her mind, he’d need to take her to Chesree.

She reached out, her attention on the map, and ran a finger through the bloody line. It broke but congealed again almost instantly. The girl cocked her head, rubbing distractedly at the dirty fingerprints on her arms. “The map was ancient, falling apart, one of the oldest charts of the Dorrian Ocean in existence, I suspect. Useless now. I believe it was magically imprinted by Baelithon the Navigator, and he lived thousands of years ago.” Alandra frowned at the Corsair. “The information… It’s there, in my mind, I can feel it.” Frustration lit her features. “But it is only accessible by a Pravda. I cannot access it or touch it with any magic I possess. I think it’s a defense mechanism. The magic used in that map was very old, very powerful, and very selective. Which must mean it’s very important.”

[Cuthroatcorsair]

"Am I to believe, then, that you chose torture and rape for no reason other than you thought it might be fun? If there was no oath to hold your tongue, then why have I spent these past months convincing you to break it?" He held her gaze for a moment longer and watched her smile fade, then turned his eyes to the map and his thoughts to her words.

Baelithon? Now that was a curious name indeed. Why would the order be interested in a map created by a black mage? And a true black mage at that. Born with the talent for true magic and granted the talent for black. It was a rare combination, but when it did happen the results were... unpredictable. Very often it was the order itself that sought them out and destroyed them, rather than allow what they saw as a dark blemish on their prefect world. He did not miss the irony in the fact that that same order was now looking for a way to benefit from the work of a black mage.

But what work could that be? What did he do that would be so important even thousands of years later? He began to mentally run through the various myths and legends associated with Baelithon the Navigator, but none were worthy of the level of secrecy and importance the order had assigned to this task. Unless... There was one legend, but it was the sort that even tavern drunks passed over for being too outrageous. It's the only one that makes sense. It was a legend far older than even the Corsair, and one he had heard only twice, but it spoke of something so terrible that the order would quite possibly do anything to prevent it from coming to fruition. For the first time in nearly a century, he felt hope blossom in the back of his mind. "I believe I may know what it is you seek."

[PlaysWithFire]

Something in his voice made her eyebrows flatten in mild suspicion. Alandra eyed his face. The pirate’s expression gave nothing away, but she noticed a very slight shift in his demeanor, little signs of life reawakening. Her interest piqued.


“Well?” she probed after a minute of silence. Crossing her arms, the mage looked at him expectantly as he poured over his bloody map. “Are you going to enlighten me, or do I have to beg for that, too? I haven’t the faintest idea what all this is. My task was to retrieve it, nothing more. But since you seem to have an idea, and since I dislike not knowing what I carry, you might as well tell me.”

[Cuthroatcorsair]

"Hm?" He looked up from the map as she spoke, then waited for her to finish before replying. "No, I don't believe I will. I'm sure your precious order will fill you in once you're safely back among them. After all, what could they possibly have to hide?" He looked back down to the map and continued to study the route it had plotted. "Well, apart from the fact that this meeting is taking place and that the map even exists. Once you've completed your mission I'm sure they will make everything known." His tone was clearly mocking, and meant entirely to cultivate the seed of doubt he had begun planting those two long months ago. "We will be in Durn in four days time and can journey to Chesree from there. Who is it that they are sending to meet you?"

[PlaysWithFire]

She glared at him for a moment, hands resting on the table, jaw clenched in frustration. Of course he’d dangle information in front of her and then whisk it away when she reached for it. How very like him. Alandra slammed her fists on the tabletop in anger and paced away, arms folded, her grey eyes stormy as she threw looks at the Corsair over her shoulder. At least he seemed more like his old self, she thought bitterly. The past few days he’d been in a strange, hollow, almost hopeless mood, and she’d seen the blatant hatred in his eyes when he’d looked at her, as if his emptiness was her fault somehow. She couldn’t believe it, but she was glad of the wicked mockery in his voice and the clever, malevolent spark in his eyes once more. The loathing was there, but it was not alone anymore.


Of course, that didn’t mean he wasn’t just as horribly irritating as ever.


“Safely back among them? So you intend to release me, then?” It was a small glimmer of hope, but she kept it well hidden under a layer of cross tones and terse words. She had not missed his point about the Order and their secrets, though, and his meaning grated on her already raw conscience. “Well, that’s the best news I’ve heard all day!” she snapped, scowling at him. The girl did a round-about and flung herself on the bed sheets with a sigh of frustration, covering her face with her hands. “You don’t need to worry about those sent to meet me, that was three days ago, they wouldn’t have waited,” she said into her palms. “They’ll already be on the road, far ahead of us.”


She paused, considering something dragging her fingers down her face and flopping her hands at her sides. Alandra stared at the ceiling in thought. “If I remember my maps correctly, there are two other ports much closer to our current vector than Durn is. That takes us an extra day and a half or more. Why prolong this?”

[Cuthroatcorsair]

"There are, but those ports are garrisons for Lothlairian soldiers. A fact of which you are well aware, I'm sure." He strode from the table and moved to the bedside, though he didn't lie down or even sit. He simply stood and looked down at her, arms crossed over his chest. "As for those you meet, where would they be going without their map I wonder? It seems to me they would be getting quite lost rather quickly." His eyes hardened and his voice became ice. "You know the consequences of playing games with me, witch. Do not start again."