Along Came A Spider Blue (Spider Blue's Story)


BlueBattler

 

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The time: Some twenty years before the present day.

The place: the waters off Sharkhead Isle.

The man: “Captain” Petrovich: a liar, a cheat, a thief, and a murderer—and those were the things that his friends called him. His enemies were even less charitable.

“Yarr, this be a fool’s errand,” the old scalawag muttered to himself as he piloted the small motorboat through the hazardous waters. “Some half-mad mage tellin’ me that I be findin’ a treasure out here beyond price. Mako an’ th’ Black Powder will take all th’ plunder worth the havin’.”

Still, Petrovich had not lived to become an old man in the Rogue Isles without becoming aware that magic was more than just the stuff of superstition. If the renegade Circle of Thorns sorcerer Maros saw something worth braving these forsaken seas for, Petrovich would have been a fool to refuse.

The boat was exactly where Maros had told him it would be. It wasn’t a large ship—more a modest sized sailboat than anything else. There couldn’t have been worth stealing on it—Mako had probably attacked it just for the sheer joy of murder.

Petrovich scowled. He had done terrible things in his life. Unforgivable things. But the perverse pleasure Mako took from slaughter sickened him. “It was a good thing I got out of th’ business when I did. I be gettin’ too soft for this kind o’ mayhem.”

The Black Powder was just a dot on the horizon. The sailboat was sinking. He was mildly surprised that Mako hadn’t set it on fire. It wasn’t like him.

Petrovich pulled up to the sailboat and climbed onto the deck.

As he expected, it was covered with blood.

Blood—and bodies.

Much to his surprise, some of the bodies belonged to men that had sailed aboard the Black Powder.

“Yarr,” Petrovich muttered to himself. “Maybe th' shark bit off a bit more than he expected this time.”

The sailors had been shot, he noticed. There were four of them. One shot apiece. Impressive shooting.

The cabin door had been obliterated—Mako himself must have taken a hand in this little melee at some point.

Petrovich sighed sadly.

If Mako had decided to join the fight it was a foregone conclusion there would be no survivors. No marksman would have a prayer against that superhuman maniac. No, the only thing he’d find inside this cabin now would be pieces …

And at first glance, that seemed to be correct.

There had been two of them: a man and a woman. There was not much left of the man at all—the only thing still recognizable was the hand that still clutched the pistol that he had used to defend his woman and himself against Mako’s pirates. As for the woman—the woman must have been beautiful before all this happened …

Suddenly, her eyes opened up and she gasped.

Petrovich froze. “Lassie?”

She coughed up blood. It was a miracle that she was still alive, but the old man could tell that she wouldn’t be for much longer. She reached out and grabbed his arm with surprising strength. “Help—“

Petrovich knelt down beside her. “Lassie—“

“My—son!” she gasped. “Help my son!”

“Lassie—“ he did not see the boy. He hoped—for the woman’s sake—that Mako had not taken the boy. Sometimes death was better than the alternative—

“There—“ The woman pointed to a foot locker in front of the bloodied bed.

Her hand fell.

Petrovich reached out and closed her eyes. He had seen enough men and women die to know that she would say nothing more to him.

Petrovich opened the locker and found a little boy huddled inside. He was wearing a torn blue shirt, and his green eyes were as dark and green as an angry sea.

He couldn’t have been more than five.

“Hello, laddie.”

The boy stared at him.

Petrovich considered.

Whatever Maros wanted him to find here was gone. There was nothing left but the dead bodies of the man and woman and the little boy. Mako must have taken the treasure.

Petrovich looked at the boy. The boy looked back at him. There was a steadiness in that look that gave the man pause.

He had killed before. He had let other people die before. The boy was nothing to him—there was no profit in doing anything for this child.

“I’m Billy,” the boy said softly. “Billy Wagner.” He held his hand out stiffly. “Daddy always said to shake hands when you said hello to someone the first time.”

Petrovich cursed inwardly. “Your daddy was a courteous man, laddie.” He knelt down and picked the boy up, pressing him to his chest so the child couldn’t see his parents. “We need to get off this boat, Billy. It be headin’ for Davy Jones’ locker and that’s for sure.”

“Mommy and Daddy—“

“They be wantin’ you to come with me, Billy me boy. Ol’ Captain Petrovich. He’ll be lookin’ after you for now. I’ll get ye to a safe harbor, never fear.”

It was a chore to get the boy off the sailboat without his seeing the carnage all about them, but Petrovich did his best. He wrapped the boy in a musty old blanket and sped away back to shore. “Maros won’t be likin’ this.”

By the time they reached shore, little Billy was out like a light. Unconscious or asleep, he’d give Petrovich no trouble.

“Now what do I be doin’ with ye, laddie?” Petrovich asked as he looked at the boy. “Ye be a good lookin’ child, but I ain’t about to start raisin’ children at my time of life. Maybe I can get ye to that Haven House in Grandville run by that young Westin Phipps. I hear he be lookin’ out for those that can’t help themselves …”

“That will not be necessary, Captain Petrovich.”

Petrovich’s blood turned to ice when he heard that voice. “Ah, Maros. I just be headin’ out to find ye, man.”

“I am not hard to find, Captain.” The voice was soft, almost musical. In spite of the glowing eyes, his face was oddly kind. “Did you get it?”

Petrovich shuffled his feet nervously. “Yarr, about that treasure, Maros … we were too late. Mako must have taken it. The only thing that be left for me to find was this boy here—“

Maros laughed. “Ah, Captain. You did exactly what I foresaw. This boy was what I sent you to find.”

“This boy is a treasure?” Petrovich looked at the sorcerer dubiously. Remembering rumors he had heard about the Circle, he nervously stepped in front of the boy in case the sorcerer decided to harm the child.

“I see time, Captain. I see what has been, what is to come, and what might have been. Young Billy Wagner here has a part to play in the future of the Rogue Isles.”

The sorcerer laid his hand on the sleeping child’s cheek. “My dubious blessings upon you, Billy Wagner. You will do mighty deeds in the future, and the name you take will be known to all who live on these troubled islands.”

The mage laughed softly. “If you live, that is …”


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