J. Mitchell - The Severed Tower

Gear and equipment sat on the riverbank where it had been unloaded—packs and supplies, guns and ammo. It looked like a military operation, and it meant one thing: The Menagerie were going into the Strange Lands. But why? Mira had never heard of them doing that before.

Max whined at the sight of the ships, not liking it. She didn’t blame him.

“Yes, I have a plan,” she told him. Max looked up at her skeptically. “And you’re not gonna like it.”

On the riverbank beside the boats, a crowd had formed in a tight circle, watching something happening in the middle, amid cheers and yells. Mira couldn’t see what it was, but she’d bet it wasn’t a friendly game of horseshoes.

She took a deep breath, grabbed her pack, and stood up. None of the pirates noticed, the crowd was too busy. Even when she and Max started walking toward them, no one sounded an alarm or even glanced in their direction.

More than three dozen kids, none of them older than twenty, had made a ring around two others in the center who were circling each other warily. Both held knives. One was a boy sporting a goatee and a wicked looking scar down one side of his face. He had a tattoo on his right wrist, like all Menagerie members, his a blue shark. He also had several cuts across his arms and a larger one on his chest, presumably recently acquired from the person he was facing.

And that person was not what Mira expected.

A very fit, lithe girl, about Mira’s age, with olive skin and obsidian-black hair that trailed down her back, tied into a tight braid. She was beautiful, but in a hard-edged way. She wore black cargo pants, a T-shirt, and a single utility belt across her waist. A black crow or raven was tattooed on her right wrist, and on the left was an eight-pointed star, just like on the flag above, with four of its points colored in. It marked her as a Captain, Mira knew, the fourth leadership rank of the Menagerie, and it entitled her to run her own ship.

It meant she was in charge here. It meant she was who Mira needed to talk to.

The girl moved with quick, controlled steps. Her eyes never blinked, only watched and calculated.

The boy lunged for her like a charging bull—and the girl sidestepped and kicked him in the rear with a disappointed frown. The crowd cheered and laughed and the boy whirled around with hatred in his eyes. The girl didn’t seem to care.

“This is already boring me, Leone,” she said.

He moved for her again, slashing wildly with his knife.

The girl dodged the strike, then another, then kicked out with a knee, caught the boy in the stomach and sent him reeling backward. As he did, she twirled the knife in her hand and threw it.

The boy howled in pain when it stuck in his leg. He fell to one knee.

The girl was a blur as she closed the distance. Her momentum fueled a kick that sent her opponent crashing on his back, and then she stomped down on the kid’s stomach with her boot. The air burst from his lungs. He shuddered, tried to move, but couldn’t.

Slowly, the girl kneeled down, yanked the knife out of his leg. The boy screamed again—and then went silent as he felt the cold blade on the scruff of his goatee, near his throat.

“So tell me if I’m wrong, Leone,” the girl spoke with a hint of amusement, “but I’m sensing a formal removal of your challenge to my leadership.”

The boy nodded. Quickly. Agreeably. There were laughs from the crowd.

“Good,” the girl said—and then rammed down the knife. Leone flinched as it punctured the sand just inches from his head. “Now get your ass back to your post.”

The boy leaped up and hobbled toward the boats as fast as he could, jeers from the crowd following him. They didn’t last long, however.

“And would someone— any of you idiots really,” the girl yelled, a new hint of menace in her voice, “like to tell me who that is.” She looked right at Mira on the outskirts of the circle. Mira swallowed nervously as the pirates all whipped around toward her. “I posted lookouts for a reason. Or at least I thought I did.”

The looks of surprise on their faces were quickly replaced with anger. They started moving for Mira. They were all armed, she noticed, all about her age. Mira took a step back, but Max growled next to her. He didn’t budge. The advancing boys stopped in their tracks, eyeing the dog warily.

“Oh, don’t bother,” the Captain said in annoyance, standing up, wiping the blood from her knife before sheathing it. “If she was trouble, we’d know by now.”

The black-haired girl pushed past her crew, studying Mira a moment, before looking down at Max.

“Looks like you brought us dinner,” she said. “Been a long time since we’ve had dog.” The pirates all around her laughed.

“You’re welcome to try eating him,” Mira said evenly, “but I wouldn’t recommend it. His bite’s a lot worse than his bark.”

“I might eat you both, you don’t tell me who you are and why you’re here.”

Mira had to play this right, the Captain wasn’t like the others. She was smarter, and dangerous, it was obvious. If Mira seemed too eager, the girl would sense weakness. If Mira dragged it out too long… she’d grow impatient. Neither was a good thing.

“What was all that in the circle?” Mira asked, ignoring her question, trying to seem unintimidated. “Somebody slip too many notes in the complaint box?”

The pirate girl’s demeanor was anything but warm. “Leone was trying to get his third star point,” she said. “One of the more fun ways you can do that is to challenge and kill your Captain. It’s how I did it. He miscalculated, though. Just like you are by playing games with me, little girl. I like your red hair. Maybe I’ll take some for a trophy.”

“I wouldn’t recommend that either.” Mira casually opened her pack, reached inside it.

The Menagerie all raised their weapons, but the Captain didn’t move. She just studied Mira with growing impatience. Mira pulled out a square piece of metal about the size of a dog tag. On it was stamped the same symbol as on the flag, the eight-pointed star.

Mira tossed it on the ground in front of them. When the pirates saw it, they slowly lowered their weapons. Even the Captain raised an eyebrow.

“A Solid,” she said with genuine curiosity, “and where did you get that, little one?”

Her repeated use of the word “little” irked Mira. “You know, you and I are pretty much the same size, right?”

“If there’s one thing Leone just learned, it’s that size is a relative thing. Where’d you get the Solid? Steal it from someone—or stumble across it on a corpse?”

“Look closer,” Mira said. The Captain frowned, then knelt down and picked up the small piece of metal. When she saw what was on it her eyes widened. She looked back at Mira in a different way. It was the reaction Mira had hoped for. That was no ordinary Solid. On it, the eight-pointed star had been colored in with metallic red paint. Only one person in the entire Menagerie gave Solids like that.

“I’m a Freebooter,” Mira said, holding the girl’s gaze. “Did a job for your boss, found something he was looking for a few years ago. Wasn’t easy. He was grateful. Next time you see Tiberius, tell him Mira Toombs says hi.”

“And what if I say you don’t look like the kind that’d be palling around with Tiberius Marseilles? What if I say I don’t buy it?”

“Then you can come find out for yourself,” Mira said, trying to sound confident. “But I guarantee you won’t have as good luck as you did with that dimwit a second ago.”

The Captain studied Mira intently, weighing things, calculating. Then a slight smile formed on her lips. “Well…” she said as she stood back up and the Solid disappeared into a pocket, “color me convinced. How exactly were you hoping to cash this in?”