Snake Heart Read online

  Relieved that she was alive, if not happy, Yanko focused on the person in front of him, the leader of the pirates. He might not have any memory of her, but he recognized her from the wanted poster he’d seen on Kyatt. Captain Snake Heart Pey Lu. His mother.

  Her face was cool and aloof, though slightly puzzled as she regarded him. She had high cheekbones, piercing dark eyes, and features that remained elegant enough that Yanko could still see some of the beauty that had drawn his father to her. His father would be appalled by the tattoo running down the right side of her neck, a viper’s tail curling toward her throat.

  Feeling self-conscious under her scrutiny, he stood straighter and made himself meet her gaze. He was surprised that he was a couple of inches taller than she. It seemed that someone with a reputation such as hers should be at least six feet tall.

  “Actually, I don’t think I do,” Yanko said, remembering that she had spoken to him, even if it hadn’t been a question. He spread his hands so she could see the sword was the only thing he held, that he had not found the lodestone. He resisted the urge to add the words Honored Mother or a variation of the greeting, as he often would do when speaking to a Nurian elder. He was speaking to a pirate, not to anyone he should honor. “The cave was guarded. I didn’t get a chance to search for anything.”

  He kept himself from glancing at Lakeo, not wanting to draw attention to her, on the chance that she had gotten to search and had found the lodestone. Instead, he looked toward the waterfall and what lay behind it. He wondered if the Kyattese were still alive or if the soul construct had killed them before storming out.

  “Search the cave, Gramon,” Pey Lu told a gray-haired pirate at her side.

  Yanko recognized him from the tortoise’s vision. He had been leading the interrogation of the villagers.

  “No please?” He wriggled his eyebrows at her.

  “You can please me by finding what we’re looking for.”

  He snorted and swatted her on the butt with the flat of his sword before walking toward the waterfall. Pey Lu’s eyes narrowed slightly, but she did not fling a fireball after him. The rest of the pirates didn’t bat an eyelash at the display.

  Yanko barely kept from gaping. Stoat’s teats, they weren’t lovers, were they?

  For some reason, that notion stunned him almost as much as finding his mother in the middle of his quest. Villainous captains weren’t supposed to have lovers that they joked with. They were supposed to treat their subordinates like slaves, kick puppies out of their way, and dramatically flap their black capes that swirled darkly about them as they walked.

  Despite the gray hair, the man—Gramon—looked as strong and fierce as Dak. His nose had definitely been broken as many times as Dak’s. He wore so many weapons—everything from pistols to serrated daggers to throwing knives to the sword in his hand—that he jangled as he walked away. He was definitely Turgonian. As he disappeared behind the waterfall, Pey Lu turned her gaze back to Yanko.

  “I meant you have something of mine in your backpack,” she said.

  Oh. Her robe. She must be able to sense it, the same way that he had when he had gone into his father’s room. Should he tell her who he was? He didn’t see any sign of recognition in her face, but she must have some inkling, if only because of the robe. Who else would have been raiding their family homestead for supplies?

  “It was getting dusty in Father’s cabinet,” Yanko said. “I thought it might want to see daylight again.”

  She snorted. “Possibly so. You’re young for it though. Which one are you?”

  Which one are you? He couldn’t keep from gaping at her. Even though she had left when he was a baby and Falcon was only three, and he logically knew she couldn’t be expected to recognize him seventeen years later, it floored him that she wouldn’t know. He closed his mouth. At least he knew she wasn’t an expert in the mind sciences.

  “Yanko,” he said.

  “Sixteen?” she asked.

  “Eighteen. Falcon is twenty.”

  “Falcon?” Her eyebrows rose. Some of the pirates were exchanging befuddled looks, but nobody spoke.

  “Shun Chu,” Yanko said, realizing she had been long gone when his brother had received his nickname. “He’s a faster runner. He was.” He grimaced, thinking of the last time he had seen Falcon, using a cane and limping because of an arrowhead recently pulled from his thigh. Would he ever run again?

  “Was?”

  “He’s not dead. He wasn’t when I saw him last, I mean, but he was injured. Our home was burned. Everyone in the village—” Yanko swallowed and scowled down at the rocks. He did not want to show his emotions in front of someone who was an enemy—it didn’t matter that she had given birth to him. To think of her as anything other than an outcast and an enemy would be a dishonor to his family. And to himself.

  “It doesn’t matter,” he said firmly. And it probably didn’t to her. If the village and the family had mattered, she never would have left.

  “Hm,” was all she said. “Red Tail, search them, and if you don’t find what we need, take them back to the ship. I’ll question them further there, if it’s necessary.” She looked to the waterfall again, probably waiting to see if her weapons-toting lover returned with the lodestone.

  A scruffy pirate with several days’ worth of beard growth tugged Yanko’s pack off without any gentleness. Someone else came forward and grabbed his sword hand. He gritted his teeth, not wanting to let the weapon go, but what was the point? What could he do to resist against so many? Two other pirates were pulling Lakeo’s pack off, and a hundred more were in the area, including the two orange-robed fire mages. If it had just been the pirates, Yanko might have created an earthquake, something that would distract everyone while he ran away, but the sheer power his mother had used against the soul construct told him that fighting her would be useless. He would never win. She had been legendary during the war more than twenty years ago, and people’s powers rarely decreased over time. It was usually the other way around, with a mage learning refinement and subtly, how to draw upon less power to create greater effects.

  “Quit touching my goods, you mouth-breathing leper,” Lakeo said, shrugging away from someone patting her up and down. Her gear, the treasure, and her utility knife had already been knocked to the ground. She must have lost her bow somewhere in the flight from the cave.

  “Captain said for us to look over your goods.” Scruffy leered at her.

  She twisted, getting an arm free for a second, and tried to punch him. The blow would have landed on his nose, but he saw it coming and dodged, grinning the whole time. The pirate behind Lakeo caught her arm and restrained her again.

  Yanko clenched his fists, wanting so much to fight these people, to launch a magical blow that would stun them all. But Pey Lu looked on, her eyes narrowed. Seeing Lakeo and Yanko treated roughly and pawed over did not bother her. If even half of her reputation was deserved, he doubted much would bother her. He hadn’t forgotten the tortoise’s vision, the one that had shown her watching impassively as those villagers were interrogated, then killed. She must have been the one to order their deaths, though they had clearly told her what she wanted, or at least given a clue that had eventually led her to the waterfall.

  The man Yanko had seen directing the group at the beach came forward to talk to Pey Lu. Not many of the pirates had pale skin, and the few who did wore cotton shirts and buckskin trousers more typical of Kendorians, but this blond man definitely looked Kyattese. Was he a prisoner? Not likely, since he had been giving directions, and he wasn’t bound or being watched. Had Pey Lu hired him? Why would he betray his own people and try to help these pirates get the museum items?

  “Nothing on the boy, Cap’n,” one of the men searching Yanko said.

  He ground his teeth at being called a boy and also at seeing his belongings spilled out on the rocks, including the warrior mage robe. His spare smallclothes lay draped across the book he had received from the mind mage at the prison. A wonder
ful thing to have on display for a bunch of strangers. And his mother.

  Pey Lu walked close enough to read the title on the thick, leather-bound book. “Musings and Applications of Mental Magic, the Complete Essays by Senshoth Fire Badger?” She did not comment on the smallclothes.

  “It was a gift,” Yanko said. A gift given under false pretense and one now sodden from his swim in the pool. He hoped it would still be legible when it dried out. “What do pirates want with this old stuff?” Yanko waved at the cave.

  “The Golden Lodestone is wanted by many.”

  Hearing the blunt admission that she sought the same thing as he was alarming, even if he had assumed as much already. “What’s a lost continent to a fleet of pirates?”

  “Nothing,” Pey Lu said, “but people and governments are willing to pay a fortune for the pretty rock.”

  Several pirates chuckled and nodded their appreciation at the word fortune.

  “Why do you need money? Don’t you just steal what you need?”

  Her eyes closed to slits.

  Maybe it would be wiser not to provoke her, but Yanko couldn’t bring himself to smooth her silks.

  “I have seven ships under my command,” Pey Lu said. “The crews expect to be paid. I make sure that happens regularly, even between opportunities for acquiring booty. It’s why they stay with me.”

  Acquiring booty. Stealing.

  “Anyone of them who want to ought to be able to retire off what people are willing to pay for that rock,” Pey Lu added.

  “Is that what you want to do? Retire?” Yanko shook his head in puzzlement. She never would have had to work if she had simply stayed in the village. The White Foxes weren’t rich, but they had land enough to support the family. Unless she dreamed of ridiculous wealth, there had been no reason to leave. Even if she did dream of ridiculous wealth, an entrepreneurial person in an honored family would have the resources to increase the family coffers legitimately. Why turn to crime?

  “Retirement would be dull, I imagine,” she said.

  “Then why—”

  An angry protest came from the waterfall, a woman cursing her captors in Kyattese. Gramon, Pey Lu’s lover or first mate or whatever he was, had a firm grip on his prisoner’s arms, forcing her toward his captain. Other pirates followed in his wake, one restraining the male archer, who walked with a limp, his face contorted in pain. The two Kyattese who had fallen in the chamber were not brought out. Yanko looked over at Lakeo, meeting her eyes. Were they dead? And if so, had it been from the soul construct? Or because of the pirates?

  Pey Lu, apparently considering her conversation with Yanko over, waved at Scruffy and jerked a thumb toward the river. The pirates behind Yanko startled him by hoisting him off his feet. He was slung over some hulking Turgonian’s shoulder, as if he were a toddler instead of a grown man. Heat flushed his cheeks, and he wasn’t sure if it was more indignation or anger.

  Before he could do more than contemplate an attack, he spotted one of the orange-robed Nurians walking at his side. The man arched an eyebrow at Yanko and formed a fist-sized ball of fire in his hand. Yanko wanted to scoff, but in truth, he had little experience battling mages. With Sun Dragon, there had been a half mile between them, distance enough to see the fireball coming and work up a defense. Would he have time to deflect such an attack if it came from two feet away?

  In addition to the mage, no less than ten pirates with swords and firearms walked alongside the man toting Yanko. Alas, this was not the time to pick a fight.

  “I’m not a rolled-up carpet to be toted to your estate, you dung-licking baboons,” Lakeo said. She was getting the same treatment.

  Yanko twisted his head, looking back toward the pool. Many pirates remained with Pey Lu, and he struggled to see what was going on. Several men headed into the cave. Others were ordered to jump in and search the bottom of the pool. Yanko glimpsed the two Kyattese. They had been forced to their knees on the pebbles beside the waterfall. Yanko’s stomach filled with dread. It reminded him far too much of the interrogation scene the tortoise had shown him.

  As his captors moved farther away from the pool, the intervening brush and trees blocked his view. The area grew darker, Yanko’s captors carrying only a couple of lanterns between them. They tramped down a freshly made trail along the river heading out to sea, the air pungent with the scent of broken foliage and sap.

  Yanko searched his surroundings with his mind, doing his best to concentrate with a meaty Turgonian shoulder jammed into his abdomen. He hoped to find Dak out there. If Dak could take out a few of the pirates, Yanko might come up with an attack to neutralize the mage.

  But the rainforest was empty of anything larger than bats and lizards. Dak might have already been captured—or worse. Especially if that prisoner they had thought was Lakeo had been designed to trap them.

  Startled birds fled from a bush that one of the pirates bumped with his sword. Yanko wondered if Kei was still back by the ravine, sleeping in whatever roost he had found. He was too far away for Yanko to communicate with. Kei might wake up in the morning to find Yanko and every other human being on the island gone. Would he feel lonely? Perplexed? Betrayed? It saddened Yanko to think of leaving him behind, when the parrot had known such a fine home in Kyatt. That was what happened to people who joined forces with him. They were destined for unpleasant fates.

  Two shots came from the direction of the pool, and Yanko closed his eyes, afraid the man and woman he had fought beside in that cave were dead. By his mother’s hand.

  Chapter 8

  When they reached the lagoon, the thug carrying Yanko dropped him in front of the beached rowboats. The abruptness startled him, but he twisted in the air and managed to land on his feet. Someone grabbed his hands, yanked them behind his back, and started tying them before he could think of resisting. There were still too many pirates to bother resisting, anyway, and that fire mage hadn’t gone far.

  “Time for a ride,” someone behind Yanko said, pointing a pistol at him while his buddy finished tying his hands.

  Lakeo hit the beach next to him, falling hard on her side. She gasped, then turned it into a growl and lashed out, kicking at the big brute who had dropped her. Her heel smashed into his shin, and he jumped back. Two men lunged in and tried to pin her. Lakeo was like a cat trapped in an alley. She kicked, bit, and scratched at anyone who came near. There wasn’t any hope of winning, and her fighting seemed born more of frustration and fury than calculation, but she was distracting them.

  The man who had been tying Yanko growled and strode over to help subdue her before finishing the task. Yanko shook his wrists to loosen the rope while concentrating on a pistol in a pirate’s holster. He lifted it free with his mind, hoping it would go unnoticed in the darkness.

  Someone heavy dropped onto Lakeo, pinning her like a wrestler. The pistol floated over to Yanko, as he managed to free his hands. He wrapped his fingers around it and glanced around, hoping he might back away without being noticed. If he could escape, he could help Lakeo later.

  The big Turgonian who had been carrying him came up behind him, a lantern in hand that illuminated Yanko’s intentions. He spotted the pistol right away and batted at Yanko’s wrist. Yanko yanked his hand back in time to avoid the blow, but he hesitated to fire, afraid his status might be changed from prisoner to corpse if he were to kill any of them. Trying something he had read about in Senshoth’s book, he formed an image of an inferno in his mind and attempted to share it, to make the pirate believe he was seeing an actual attack.

  To his surprise, the big man stumbled back, waving his hands before his eyes. Several of the pirates did. The one on top of Lakeo screamed and rolled away from her.

  “Run,” Yanko barked, continuing to hold the image in the men’s minds.

  A pricking at the back of the neck warned him of someone else calling upon the mental sciences. He dropped to the ground and rolled down the beach.

  Fire—real fire—blasted through the air just above him.
He didn’t quite escape it, and it licked at his hair and the back of his shirt as he rolled. Heat bore through his clothing to his skin. He gasped in pain, but he kept rolling, trying to squelch the flames. He ended up in the lagoon, banging his foot against one of the rowboats. The flames went out, and the cold seawater eased the pain of being burned, but by the time he jumped to his feet, the pirates had recovered. They swarmed around him. Eight pistols pointing at Yanko’s chest left no question as to what his fate would be if he tried another magical attack. The orange-robed mage stood behind the men, a sneer riding his lips.

  “Get in, you say?” Lakeo touched her knuckles to a split lip, her hand coming away bloody. Sand covered her clothes and hair, and she looked like she had taken as many blows as she had given.

  “Whenever you feel like it,” one of the pirates said, “your yacht awaits.” He gestured at the boat Yanko had kicked.

  Yacht, sure. He spotted at least ten places where holes in the bottom had been patched by tar.

  Sighing, he clambered into the rowboat. At least he had avoided having his hands tied, for all the good it would do. Lakeo joined him, sitting beside him on the bench. Four pirates climbed in after them, two grabbing oars. Yanko was surprised they didn’t make their captives row, but maybe they wanted to keep him up front, where they could watch him. The other pirates and the fire mage filled other boats. Three craft headed out into the water, with the mage in the bow of the boat right behind Yanko’s boat. He could feel the man’s eyes boring into his back.

  “Any chance your mama is going to put us in an officer’s suite and invite us to breakfast?” Lakeo asked.