The Stolen King by Joseph Daniel & Bryan Arneson

Author:Joseph Daniel & Bryan Arneson [Daniel, Joseph & Arneson, Bryan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-08-10T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 14

No one fired. Everyone just watched, too stunned to react or too worried they would hit their respective leader.

Abioye's hands wrapped around Edmond's neck, squeezing tight, his knuckles brushing against the rough strands of dreadlocks. He shoved his brother-in-law over the edge of the ship, bracing his weak, mortal spine against the railing, threatening to snap him in two. He squeezed tighter, tighter. Edmond choked. He tried to kick out, but found his legs wouldn't move. He tried to reason with the raging Signerde, but he knew from experience that Abioye wasn't the type to listen to reason once his moods took him. The only thing they had ever agreed upon was Ailsa's need of protection. And the only thing Edmond hadn't agreed upon with Ailsa regarded the same subject. Ailsa had always been bolder, braver than Edmond, willing to put herself in danger Edmond often would avoid. It was something he had both loved and hated about her.

Abioye had all of that hatred and very little of the love. His eyes narrowed with fury as he glared at Edmond's face, choking him. The Signerde prince's grip was strong, stronger than a mortal's would be. The pearlescent ridges across Abioye's face twisted up over his brow, forming rigid, glinting strikes through what seemed a granite face, stony with rage.

Bravos who had lain about on the deck pretending to be dead at Edmond's instruction shouted and cried. Edmond had used the Signerde's own brashness against them. He knew they were the type to gloat if they thought they had the upper hand.

“Stop!” shouted a voice. There was something about that tone, something about the voice that set Edmond at unease. But the voice was like a bullet wound to Abioye. He froze, and then lifted his hands, grimacing as if he'd been shot.

Abioye whirled around, and snapped, “Where is that humming coming from!” And then he stiffened as his eyes came to rest on the source of the shout.

Edmond couldn't hear any humming, but gasping and massaging his throat, he glanced about the deck, and noticed all eight of the Signerde pirates who'd invaded their ship were rubbing at the ears are shaking their heads in confusion. And all of them were staring in awe at Dante, the boy who had shouted.

Dante didn't look like Dante. Standing on deck, fingers of flame seemed to leap off of his skin, scorching up and flickering as if he were ablaze. Smoke and ash whirled around his feet like a vortex and gathered over his head like some sort of dark halo. He glared out at the Signerde and shouted again; his voice sounded different too. His veins glowed brighter and bolder than Edmond had ever seen before, flickering orange and gold, lighting up his features and upraised arms. His voice resonated with strange authority, booming across the deck like a fog horn.

“An imp,” whispered one of the Signerde.

“A son of the Betrayed Mother,” whispered another. “It's an imp!'

Then, Edmond remembered: imps were servants of the Betrayed Mother and were unlike any other demonkind.

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