Chapter 22

Distant screams and explosions startled Sophia awake. Confused at first by her surroundings and the pain in her arms, she soon recognised the bars of the pirate ship’s brig, which stood out against the faintly luminescent white wood. She had slid to the floor and fallen asleep at some point, and her shackles twisted her arms up uncomfortably.

“That’s not cannon fire,” Petra’s voice rose from across the brig. The blond woman too sat on the floor, reclined against the prison bars. Her eyes remained closed, but her head was tilted to the side, listening intently to the ruckus below, which seemed to be moving closer. Sophia opened her mouth to ask a question but stopped when a bestial roar boomed through the hull of the ship.

“Sam,” she blew out. The warm bead in her soul pulsed as if an echo. The priestess jumped to her feet. “SAM!!” She strained against her restraints to get closer to the hull. “SAAAM!! I’M HERE!!”

“SHHHH!!” Petra hissed. “Not so loud! Unless he brought a wyvern along, I doubt that’s your darling.”

“Sam’s not– We’re not together!” Sophia was increasingly tired of correcting everyone on that fact. “She’s a demon bound to protect me!” A loud explosion sound reached them, still distant, but unmistakeably nearer than before.

“Well, the pirates will hear you too, so stop shouting!” Petra paused and cocked an eyebrow. “A demon, you say? I guess not just any house imp, by the sound of it.” Another crash outside answered her rhetorical question.

“She’ll kill everyone if I don’t stop her!” Sophia felt like gnawing her nails, but she could not because of the shackles.

The other prisoner considered her for a moment while the distant uproar continued its progress. Suddenly, she sat up straighter and blew her braids off her face. (They fell right back over.) “Alrighty then! I made up my mind. Let’s get out of here. I can’t wait to meet your hellish lover.”

“We’re not–” Sophia started then frowned. “What do you mean…” She watched, stunned, as Petra unfolded her long legs from under her, revealing the key she held between her toes. “…How?”

“I have sticky toes,” the blonde answered distractedly. She transferred the key between her teeth and wiggled her bare foot digits at Sophia—her eyebrows too. Then she stood and attempted to fit the key inside her left shackle using her mouth.

“Ifsh… ‘lashtoe shinks Devil’sh Cove’s losht, he’ll run– or, well, sh’ly. He’ll be in a pish-poor moo’ too, and A don’t inten’ to be here when i’ happensh— Ah-hah!” With a clank, the shackle unlocked and fell off her wrist, dangling from the bars. One hand freed, Petra did a quick job of releasing the second.

“Tada!” Unshackled and smirking, she spun the key cockily around her finger. “I have to thank you for your contribution, love. You made a masterful distraction. And using your plenteous assets to smother Squeely? I couldn’t have done it.” She jokingly cupped her chest, flat-looking even in her baggy shirt, and leered at Sophia, whose above-average figure seemed incredibly generous in comparison. The priestess did not know whether to feel offended or impressed.

“You… Did you plan that whole thing?!”

“Maybe…” Petra shook her hand with a shrug. “Approximately… Seventy per cent planning, thirty per cent improvisation. Sixty-forty. Fifty-fifty? Thirty-sixty. We’re back around, ain’t we? Sold! …ugh, I need some brandy. Why don’t jail ever have any decent booze? Anyway. The point is, life’s not about planning, love. It’s about seizing… opportunities.” Petra’s tongue flicked over her full lips. Again, her gaze lingered on Sophia’s body, in a way the priestess was very uncomfortable with.

Sophia reflexively tried to cover herself—even though she was fully clothed in her usual stiff robe—but the chains stopped her movements. She tried to retreat, but the bars blocked her. Her heartbeat hiked up nervously, and she became suddenly acutely aware of how trapped she was.

A malicious glint shone in Petra’s eyes. She strutted forwards, breaking into Sophia’s personal space and thrusting their chests together. Sophia gasped in shock. Petra grabbed the bars above the priestess’ head and forcefully slipped a knee between her legs, ignoring Sophia’s attempts at kicking her away. She leaned down, bringing their lips gradually closer. “Opportunities,” she whispered, “made all the sweeter by the fact they might be… forbidden…”

Their warm breaths intermingled. Sophia’s heart was pounding in her ears. She was confused—confused and afraid, from her captivity, from Sam’s rampage outside, and from this sudden development. Despite herself, her pupils dilated, her breathing shortened, and her cheeks flushed. Petra’s face was dirty, but her pouty, slightly parted lips held a strange magnetic attraction. They looked even fuller on the blonde’s narrow features, and Sophia found herself parting hers in response.

Click.

An unsatisfying metallic noise broke the spell. Sophia jerked her head away and looked up at her left wrist, where Petra had slipped the key inside her shackle. But it failed to open. The key refused to even turn in the lock.

“Ah, I thought that might be the case.” Petra stepped back and grimaced, spinning the key in her fingers. “They don’t look the same at all.”

Sophia blinked, coming out of her daze. Her flustered face immediately turned to anger. “What is wrong with you?!” she spat. The question targetted herself as much as the other woman. Sophia could not explain her own reaction.

Despite Meredith’s jokes about her granddaughter’s aspirations to sainthood, Sophia had not lived the life of a complete nun. She had had… romantic encounters with young men—very upstanding young men from Fair Isle Landing. Well, more like tentative approaches, if she were to be honest. These relationships floundered before they could even start properly, as the other party quickly became too intimidated by Sophia’s position and dedication to her duties.

The point was, regardless of her honed self-control, Sophia was still a human woman—a woman with… needs and… thoughts. Also, having the grandmother she had left little place to clueless innocence. But never those flights of fancy had involved another woman.

Sam? Of course, Sam did not count. She was a demon, and thus, by nature, an instrument of temptation. Sophia’s regrettable thoughts towards the black-skinned warrior woman, her warm body, her luscious muscles, her comforting strength, and that contagious silly grin could not be imputed, at all, to Sophia’s own proclivities. They were, obviously, the fruit of some extraneous, insidious, and malicious supernatural influence.

Or so Sophia kept telling herself.

Her train of thoughts was broken by yet more metallic noises, this time a sharp snap followed by a long creak. She turned to see Petra with her hand against the jail’s lock, the door slowly opening. The metal bolt looked cleanly cut in two.

The blonde glanced over her shoulder at Sophia’s shocked face and smirked apologetically. “Sorry, love. I wanted to help you out, but my magic won’t work on those cuffs. If I see your demony lass, I’ll be sure to point her your way. It was a real pleasure. See ya!” She blew a kiss and made to slip out.

“Wait!” Sophia shouted. “If you leave me here, I… I’ll tell Sam you forced yourself on me and left me to die!” The self-proclaimed adventuress froze mid-step. She slowly spun around and met Sophia’s resolute glare. She raised a finger, opened her mouth, then closed it and tightened her hand into a frustrated fist.

On point, a loud deflagration sounded somewhere practically underneath them.

An insincere smile finally lifted Petra’s lips. “You know, for a woman of Faith, you drive a ruthless bargain.” The priestess kept glaring at her mutely.

Petra walked back inside the cell, up to Sophia, and grabbed the chain of her right shackle—this time without any untoward innuendos. She focused, a faint sheen of sweat formed on her forehead, then the same metallic snap echoed in the hold, and a soft breeze blew against Sophia’s face. The chain fell limply, split in two.

The blonde repeated the process on the other side, and soon, Sophia was left with two lengths of links dangling from her wrist cuffs, but untethered from the prison bars.

“Good thing they didn’t bother using mageblight steel for the chains too. Thank Elysium for cheapskates.” Petra was swaying on her feet, looking somewhat pale underneath the grime. She leaned against the wall briefly, shook her head, and then pushed herself off. “Alright, let’s go. We–”

SMACK!

Sophia’s slap threw the blonde right back into the wall. Groaning painfully, Petra brought a hand to her chin and moved her lower jaw sideways. “Owwsh. That wasn’t necessary.” Again, she met the priestess’ furious eyes. “Eh… I guess maybe I deserved that.”

“You’re despicable.”

The blonde snorted derisively. “In my family, that’s a compliment.” Bouncing right back, she shelled out for a smart bow towards the open door. “After you, my lady.” Sophia huffed but still strode out, followed by a smirking Petra.

“We need to get to Sam,” the priestess said urgently. “She’ll kill everyone if we don’t stop her! What did you say this place was called?”

“Devil’s Cove.” Instead of heading for the stairs, Petra was looking around the dark hold.

She walked to one of the many crates piled against the hull and lifted the lid, only glancing inside before moving onto the next. “It’s Slashtoe’s secret hideout. There’s a whole town under us.” Hearing Sophia’s intake of breath, she briefly turned back. “Why do you care? I can assure you, love, there ain’t one innocent soul worth saving down there. Pillagers, murderers, backstabbers, rapists, and devil worshipers. The world would be a better place without any of them.” She waved dismissively and opened another crate. “Oooh. Brandy!” She pulled out a bottle, popped the cork off and brought it to its nose. “Mmmh. Emerrose.” She took a swig, smiled approvingly, and moved on to the next chest, bringing the bottle along.

Sophia rushed after her. “That’s not for you or me to decide! Souls are Elysium’ matter, and every mortal life is precious. Even if they’re the vilest of criminals, leaving them to die gruesome deaths would be lowering ourselves to their level. You cannot preach morality if you don’t live it. I won’t be a hypocrite!”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Your Saintship. I wasn’t trying to speak no blaspheme. Cross me heart. Please don’t smite me.” Her ironic tone and her cocky smirk told Sophia all she needed to know. The blonde barely even bother to turn around, still inspecting the cargo.

“Have you no shame?”

“Let me think… No. Shame doesn’t bring gold, and it doesn’t get you laid. If I ever had any, I traded it long ago, probably for a nice bottle and good company.”

The priestess narrowed her eyes, but decided to drop the subject. They had more pressing matters.

“Can we get off this ship unnoticed?” Frantic footsteps were echoing loudly from the decks above them. The pirates had obviously noticed the commotion below, and were reacting to it. Thankfully, no one seemed to be coming down—yet.

“They installed a lift because they can’t get the Dove to land in the lagoon. But it’ll be guarded. Not worth risking it. Our best chance is to climb down the anchor rope. We still have to get there without them spotting us.” She stared pointedly at Sophia’s white clerical robes.

The priestess frowned but nodded. “I saw the crew quarters on the way down. We should find spare clothes there.”

“I wouldn’t count on that.” Petra grimaced. “Maybe some rags. But that’ll have to do. First, though, I need my wand. It should be in a chest somewhere down here.” She peeked into the next crate, pinched her lips and continued her progress, taking another swig of stolen brandy.

“We don’t have time for that! That beastman could come back at any moment!” Sophia wanted to say people were dying, but she did not think the other woman would be receptive to the argument.

This time, the blonde spun around, looking somewhat impatient. “Look, love, I’m not leaving without it. And you’re not leaving without me. So you’ll help me look around. Besides, you’re the reason I’m nearly out of juice, so I’ll need that wand if things go tits up. Savvy?”

“If it’s that precious, wouldn’t the captain keep it with him?”

“It’s not precious to him.” Petra pointed at her face. “Genius air mage, recall? That artefact would be as useful as a bent spoon to anyone else. It’ll be with the junk they plan to sell.” She gestured to more crates on the opposite end of the hold, next to the cannonball racks. “You take that side. I’ll finish up here.”

Sophia was not okay with the delay, but it was clear the other would not budge. And maybe Petra had a point. If a fight broke out, Sophia would not be much help. They needed all the advantages they could get. “Ugh. Fine! What am I looking for?”

“A pistol without a trigger and a silver figurehead at the end of the nozzle.”

“Fine!” Grumbling to herself, Sophia walked away. The adventuress watched her go with a chuckle before refocusing on her search.

Unfortunately, to Petra’s ever-increasing frustration, all the crates on her side seemed to contain only food—except one, which for some reason was filled to the brim with frilly noblewoman’s dresses. She put the garments back with a grimace of distaste.

A creak of the floorboard was all the warning she received. She ducked, just in time to avoid a large three-fingered fist sweeping through the space her head occupied a heartbeat earlier. She spun and found herself staring up a pink snout into a pair of beady porcine eyes gleaming with hatred. She grinned. “Squee! My mate! Have you be practising your assassin skills?”

Inwardly, she cursed herself. So engrossed had she become in her search, that she missed the incoming steps among the general chaos reverberating through the ship. That’s the sort of carelessness that got you in this mess in the first place! Get your shit together, Petra!

Squee yelled and swung at her; Petra reflexively parried with her bottle; it shattered, splattering both of them in pricey alcohol. She stared at the broken glass in dismay, then ducked under another punch, and stabbed forwards with her bottle stump. The glass cut through Squee’s shirt and into his lard; pieces of it broke off inside the wound. He squealed and reeled, and Petra made to roll away, but his hand came down and clamped on her head.

Shit! She struggled against his iron hold, clawing at his hand, but Squee pulled her off the floor easily. He tightened his grip, and Petra felt her skull might pop like a nut. She kicked the shards sticking from his gut; he grunted in pain and dropped her. She fell into a crouch and hit the glass again with a quick jab, ignoring the cuts to her knuckles and the sickening feeling of flabby fat and warm blood—the same way she ignored the stinging pain in her foot.

Aiming to escape from between Squee and the wall, she jumped back on the dresses crate and leapt to the side. Owowowow! Kicking glass barefooted had seemed like a good idea at the time. Now she found herself reconsidering.

A cleaver stabbed into the hull right before her nose, bringing her to a sudden halt. She spun around, but another knife narrowly missed her face. “Woops!” Then Squee was on her. He grabbed her shoulder and threw her to the floor. He straddled her, pinning her down, and raised yet another cleaver. Seriously? How many knives does this ham-face have?!

She wondered if maybe this was the end.

But suddenly, Squee gasped comically, went cross-eyed and slid sideways to the floor. Revealed by his collapsing mass, petite Sophia stood behind him, heaving a bloodied cannonball in her hands. Her wide eyes went from Petra, to the unmoving pig-man, to the gory iron sphere. She dropped it with a yelp. “O, Goddess! Did I kill him?!”

Petra pushed the unconscious pirate off her. “With your squirrel arms? He’ll have a little bump and be on his merry way tomorrow. Throw me one of those dresses, will you?”

“Dresses?”

“In that crate, there.”

Stunned, Sophia complied.

A minute later, the pig-man, still out cold, was tied up tightly in frilly garment, a mob cap stuffed deep in his mouth as a gag. More cloth was sacrificed to give Petra’s hand and feet makeshift bandages after the fragments of glass were taken out. Sophia wished she could heal her, but Squee did not have the keys on him, so the priestess remained stuck with the mageblight cuffs blocking her magic.

Petra weighted one of pig-man’s cleavers before sticking it inside her waistband. Not great, but it’ll do. Inside his pouch, beside a few bronze shekels and a set of knucklebones, she found a small white wood pendant. “Hey, Squirrel. Catch!”

The priestess caught her medallion. Her expression, which had remained unsettled even after she wiped the blood off her hands, finally relaxed. She hurriedly put the pendant around her neck and hid it inside her collar. Then she looked at Petra—while carefully keeping Squee’s body out of her sight. “I think I found your wand.”

Followed by an eager blonde, she walked back to the back of the hold and pointed at an open chest full of jewellery and precious stones. Petra rushed to it. “Oh! Yes! This is it!”

What she fished out indeed had the shape of a gun lacking both trigger and hammer. And it was easy to see why the pirate had sorted as they had. The dark exotic wood of the “wand” was richly engraved. The silver barrel ended with a life-like representation of a woman thrusting her chest out proudly like a ship’s figurehead. A jade pearl the size of a small plum was embedded in the butt of the grip, also made of silver and moulded like fairy wings wrapped around the pearl.

When Petra grabbed the magic gun, the jade briefly flashed green, and she smirked like someone reunited with a feisty pet. She stuffed it into her waistband, opposite the meat cleaver. A few more jewels from the chest also found their way inside Squee’s pouch, which had relocated at her belt. The transfer earned Sophia’s reprobative stare, but Petra did not seem to care.

She merely rolled her eyes and strolled towards the stairs to the upper deck. “Come on, Miss Do-Gooder. You’ve got a townful of evil motherfuckers to save.”

Sophia followed after a last conflicted glance at the unconscious pirate. She stared at Petra’s back. “One day, you will understand how wrong you were to see the world with such contemptuous cynicism.”

“Now you’re scaring me.”

They quieted down as they started the climb to the crew quarters. Footsteps kept echoing from above, and the explosions had never ceased below.

Sophia only hoped there would be something left to save.

* * * * *