t you? Please, oh
please, Ella.
Arista could not breathe. She felt her heart pounding in her ears and her body trembled. Everyone silently watched her. Even Lynette stopped her pleading. Arista found herself saying through quivering lips,
Lay him down.
Lynnette gently lowered Wery
s body, his limbs lifeless, his head tilted awkwardly to one side.
Blood continued to seep from the boy
s wound.
Arista knelt beside him and placed a hand on the boy
s chest. He was still breathing, but so shallow,
so weak. She closed her eyes and began to hum softly. She heard the soft concerned mutterings of those in the crowd and, one by one, she tuned them out. She heard the heartbeats of the men and women surrounding her and forced them out as well. Then she heard the wind. Soft and gentle it was there, moving, swirling between the buildings, across the street, skipping over stones. Above her, she felt the twinkle of the stars, and the smile of the moon. Her hand was on the body of the boy, but her fingers felt the strings of the instrument that she longed to play.
The gentle wind grew stronger. The swirl became an eddy, the eddy, a whirlwind, and the whirlwind, a vortex. Her hair whipped madly, but she hardly noticed. Before her lay a void, and beyond it a distant light. She could see him in the darkness, a dull silhouette before the brilliance, growing smaller as it traveled away. She shouted to him. He paused. She strummed the chords and the silhouette turned. Then, with all her strength, she clapped her hands together and the sound was thunder.
When she opened her eyes, the light from the robe had faded and the crowd stood silently in shock.
Chapter 10
Fallen Star
Sail ho!
the lookout shouted from the masthead.
TheEmerald Storm was now two weeks out of Aquesta, slipping across the placid waters of the Ghazel Sea. The wind remained blowing from the southwest, and since rounding the Horn of Delgos they had made slow progress. The ship was close-hauled, struggling to gain headway into the wind. Mister Temple kept the top crews busy tacking the ship round, wearing windward, and keeping their course by crossing back and forth, but Hadrian guessed that a quickly walking man could make faster progress.
It was mid morning and seamen who were not in the rigging or otherwise engaged in the ship
s
navigation were busy scrubbing the deck with sandstone blocks or flogging it dry. All the midshipmen were on the quarterdeck taking instruction in navigation from Mister Bishop. Hadrian heard the lookout
s call as he returned to the galley after delivering the previous evening
s pork
grease. Making his way to the port side, he spotted a small whi square on the horizon. Bishop immediately suspended class and took an eyeglass to see for himself, then sent a midshipman to the captain
s cabin. The captain came so quickly he was still adjusting his hat as he appeared on the quarterdeck. He paused for a moment, tugged on his uniform, and sniffed the air with a wrinkle of his nose.
Lookout report!
he called to the masthead.
Two ships, off the port bow, sir!
Hadrian looked again and just as the lookout reported, he spotted a second sail now visible above the line of the water.
The foremost is showing two squares
appears to be a lugger. The farther ship
I
m seeing two red
lateen sails, single-decked, possibly a tartane. They
re running with the wind and closing fast, sir.
What flag are they flying?
Can
t say sir, the wind has them flying straight at us.
Hadrian watched the ships approach, amazed at their speed. Already he could see them clearly.
This could be trouble,
Poe said.
Hadrian had been so intent on the ships he failed to notice his assistant appear beside him. The thin rail of a boy was busy tying the black ribbon in his ponytail as he stared out at the vessels.
How
s that?
Those red sails.
Hadrian showed he didn
t understand the significance.
Only the Dacca use them.
Beat to quarters, Mister Bishop,
the captain ordered.
All hands on station!
the lieutenant shouted.
Beat to quarters!
Immediately, Hadrian heard a drum roll across the ship. The boatswain and his mates took action, clearing the deck of the scrubbers. The midshipmen dispersed to their stations shouted orders to their crews.
Come on!
Poe told him.
There was a pile of briquettes at the protected center of the forecastle, which Hadrian ignited with hot coals from the galley stove as soon as the surrounding deck had been soaked. Around it, archers prepped their arrows with oil. Seamen brought dozens of buckets of seawater, along with buckets of sand, and positioned them around the ship. It took only minutes to secure for battle and then they waited.
The ships were closer and larger now, but still the flags they flew were invisible. TheStorm remained deathly silent, the only sound coming from the wind, waves, and the creaking hull. A random gust fluttered the lugger
s flag.
They
re flying the Gribbon of Calis, sir!
the lookout shouted.
Mister Wesley,
the captain addressed the midshipman stationed on the quarterdeck.
You
ve studied
signals?
Aye, sir.
Take a glass and get aloft. Mister Temple, run up our name and request theirs.
Aye, aye, sir.
Still no one moved or spoke. All eyes were on the approaching vessels.
Lead vessel is theBright Star , aft vessel is
Wesley hesitated.
Aft vessel isn
t responding, sir.
Two points
a port!
the captain shouted abruptly, and Wyatt spun the wheel, weathering the ship as close to the wind as possible, heading them directly toward the lugger. The topmen went into action like a hundred spiders crawling along the shrouds, working to grab every bit of wind possible.
New signal from theBright Star ,
Wesley shouted.
Hostile ship astern!
Small streaks of smoke flew through the otherwise clear sky. The tartane was firing arrows at theBright Star , but the shots fell short falling into the sea a good two hundred yards astern.
Ready the forward ballista!
the captain ordered, and a squad of men on the forecastle began to crank a small capstan, which ratcheted the massive bowstring into firing position. They lighted another brazier in advance of the stanchion, as an incendiary bolt was loaded. Then they waited, once more watching the ships sail closer.
Everything about the Dacca ship was exotic. Made of dark wood, the vessel glittered with gold swirls artfully painted along the hull. She bore long decorative pendants of garish, bright colors. A stylized image of a black dragon in flight adorned the scarlet mainsail and on the bowsprit was the head of a ghoulish beast with bright emerald eyes. The sailors appeared as foreign as the ship. They were dark-skinned, powerful brutes wearing only bits of red cloth wrapped around their waists.
Poorly handled, theBright Star lost the wind and her momentum. Behind her, the tartane descended.
Another volley of arrows from the Dacca smoked through the air. This time several struck theBright Star in the stern, but one lucky shot made it to the mainsail setting it aflame.
Although victorious over the lugger, the tartane chose to flee before the approachingEmerald Storm
. It came about and Hadrian watched Captain Seward ticking off the distance as theStorm inched toward it. Even after the time lost during the turn, the Dacca ship was still out of ballista range.
Helm-a-lee. Bring her over!
the captain shouted.
Tacks and sheets!
TheEmerald Storm swung round to the same tack as the tartane, but theStorm did not have the momentum under her, nor the nimbleness of the smaller ship. The tartane was the faster vessel, and all that the crew of theEmerald Storm could do was watch as the Dacca sailed out of reach.
Seeing the opportunity lost, Captain Seward ordered theStorm heaved-to and the long boats launched. TheBright Star
s mainsail and mast burned like a giant torch. Stays and braces snapped and the screams of men announced the fall of the flaming canvas to the deck. Still, the ship
s
momentum carried it astern of them. As it passed, they could see the terrified sailors struggling hopelessly to put out the flames that enveloped the deck. Before the long boats were in the water, theBright Star was an inferno with most of the crew already in the sea.
The boats returned laden with frantic men. Nearly all were tawny-skinned, dark-eyed sailors dressed in whites and grays. They lay across the deck coughing and spitting water, thanking Maribor and each member of the crew who came near.
***
TheBright Star was an independent Wesbaden trader from Dagastan heading home to western Calis with a load of coffee, cane, and indigo. Despite theStorm
s timely intervention, more than a third of
the small crew perished. Some passed out in the smoke while fighting the flames, while others remained trapped below deck. The captain of theBright Star perished, struck by one of the fiery arrows the Dacca had rained on his vessel. This left only twelve men, five of whom lay in Doctor Levy
s care with burns.
Mister Temple sized up the able-bodied survivors and added them to the ship
s complement. Royce
was back at work aloft as Hadrian finished serving dinner to the crew. Hadrian
s friendly attitude
and generosity with the galley grease had won several friends. There had been no more attempts on Royce
s life, but they still did not know why his friend had been targeted, or by whom. For the moment, it was enough that Defoe, Derning, and Staul remained at a safe distance.
Aye, this is Calis not Avryn.
Hadrian heard one of the new seamen saying in a harsh gravelly voice, as he brought down the last messkid.
The light of civilization grows weak like a candle in a high easterly wind and the farther east you go the stronger the wind blows till out she goes and in the darkness ye stand!
A large number of the off watch clustered around an aft table, where three of the new sailors sat.
Then there you are in the world of the savage,
the Calian sailor went on.
A strange place me lads, a
strange place indeed. Harsh violent seas and jagged inlets of black toothed rock, gripped tight by dense jungle. The netherworld of the Ba Ran Ghazel, the heart o
darkness is a place of misery and
despair, the pris/p>
re Novron drove the beasties to their eternal punishment. They can
t help but try to get out. They
look at the coasts of Calis with hungry eyes and they find footholds. Like lichen, they slip in and grow everywhere. The Calians try to push them back, but it be like trying to swat a sky of flies or hold water in yer hands.
He cupped his hands pretending to lose something between his fingers.
Goblin and man living so close together taint natural,
another said.
The first sailor nodded gravely.
But nothin
in them jungles be natural. They have been linked for
two long and the Sons of Maribor and the Spawn of Oberlin be warring one moment, then trading the next. Just to survive, the Calian warlords took to the ways of the goblins and, in so doing spread the cursed practices of the Ba Ran to their kin. Some of these warlords are more goblin now than men. They even worship the dark god, burning tulan leaves and making sacrifices. They live like beasts and at night the moon makes them wild and in the darkness their eyes glow red!
Several of the men made sounds of disbelief.
It
s the truth, me lads! Centuries ago when the first empire fell, the eastern lords were abandoned to their fate. Left alone in the deep dark of the Calian jungles, they lost their humanity. Now the great stone fortresses along the Goblin Sea that once guarded the land from invasion be the home of Tenkin warlords
half human, half goblin monsters. They
ve turned their backs on the face of Maribor
and embraced the ways of the Ghazel. Aye, me fellows, the state of Calis is a fearful one. So, thankful we be for your daring act of kindness, for we
d be at the mercy of fate if ya hadn
t pulled us
from the sea. If it wasn
t for your bravery, we
d surely be dead now
or worse
Wasn
t much bravery needed,
Daniels said.
TheStorm could have whipped those buggers in a dead
calm with half the crew drunk and the other half sick with the fever.
Is that what you think?
Wyatt asked. Hadrian did not notice him sitting silently in the gloom beyond the circle of the candle
s light.
Is that what youall think?
His tone was oddly
harsh
challenging. Wyatt sighed, and with an exasperated shake of his head, got up and climbed the ladder to the deck.
Having finished with the messkids, Hadrian followed. He found the helmsman on the forecastle, his hands gripping the rail as he stared at the shimmer of the new moon rolling on the back of the black sea.
What
s that all about?
We
re in trouble and
he paused angrily motioning at the quarterdeck but catching himself and clenching his teeth as if by doing so he could trap the words inside of his mouth.
What kind of trouble?
Hadrian glanced at the quarterdeck.
The captain doesn
t want me to say anything. He
s a damn fool who won
t listen to reason. I should
disobey him and alter the ship
s course right now. I could relieve Bliden on the wheel early and take us off course, no one would know until the reckoning is taken tomorrow at noon.
Wesley would know.
Hadrian pointed to the young man climbing to the quarterdeck on his nightly round as officer of the first watch.
He
d have you hauled to Mister Bishop before you could blink.
I could deal with Wesley if I had to. The deck is slippery, you know?
Now you
re starting to sound like Royce. What
s going on?
I suppose if I am contemplating killing a midshipman it hardly matters if I break captain
s orders to
keep quiet.
Wyatt looked once again at the sea.
They
re coming back.
Who?
The Dacca. They didn
t run, they
re regrouping.
He looked at Hadrian.
They dye their sails with the
blood of their enemies mixed with wild berries, did you know that? Hundreds of small ruddy-red boats line the coves and ports of their island. They know we
re hugging the coast and sailing against
the wind. They
ll chase us down like wolves. Ten, twenty lateen rigged tartanes will catch the wind that we can
t. TheStorm won
t stand a chance.
What makes you so sure? You could be wrong and the captain would have good reason to stay on course.
I
m not wrong.
Chapter 11
The Hooded Man
The hooded man walked away again.
Arista cowered deeper into the shadows under the tavern steps. She wanted to disappear, to become invisible. Her robe had turned a dingy brown, blending with the dirty wood. Drawing up the hood, she waited. It washim
the same man Lynette described. He was looking for her. She heard the sound of his boots on the cobblestone. They slowed, hesitated, then grew louder.
He was coming back again!
The tall, dark figure appeared at the end of the alley for the third time. He paused. She held her breath. The streetlamps revealed a frightening figure dressed in a black hooded cloak with a thick scarf hiding his face. He wore an unseen sword
she could hear the telltale clap.
He took a tentative step toward her hiding place, then another, then paused. The light
s glare
exposed white puffs issuing from his scarf. His head turned from side to side. He stood for several seconds, then pivoted so sharply his boot heel dug a tiny depression in the gravel, and walked away.
After several tense minutes Arista carefully crept out.
He was gone.
The first light of dawn rose in the east. If only she could make it back to the palace. At least there she would be safe from the assassin and away from the inevitable questions:
Who is she? How did
she do it? Is she a witch?
She had left Brisbane Alley before anyone thought to ask, but what after? She had drawn too much attention, and
although she doubted anyone would connect the dots
the unabashed use of magic
would cause a stir.
Removing the robe she carefully tucked it under the tavern steps and set off toward the palace. The guards ignored her as usual and she went about her tasks without incident. Throughout the day she had the good fortune to work relatively unnoticed, but by midday news of her actions the night before had reached the palace. Everyone buzzed about the disturbance on Coswell Street. A boy had been brought back to life. By evening, rumors named the Witch of Melengar as the culprit. Luckily, no one suspected the scrub girl Ella of any more wrongdoing than failing to return the borrowed tablecloth.
She was exhausted. It was not merely losing a night
s sleep while avoiding the assassin. Saving
Wery had drained her. After leaving the palace, she returned to the alley and retrieved the wizard
s
robe. She did not dare put it on for fear someone might recognize it. She rolled it up and, clutching it to her chest, stood on the edge of the broad avenue, unable to decide what to do next. Staying would be sheer stupidity. Looking down the broad length of Grand Avenue, she could see the front gates of the city. It felt like a lifetime since she was home. It would be so good to see a familiar face, to hear her brother
s voice
to rest.
She knew she should leave. She should go that very minute, but she was so tired. The idea of setting out into the cold dark, alone and hungry, was too much. She desperately needed a safe place to sleep, a hot meal, and a friendly face
which meant just one thing
the Barkers. Besides, she could
not leave without retrieving the pearl-handled hairbrush, the last remaining keepsake from her father.
Nothing had changed at the end of Brisbane Alley. The length was still dotted with small campfires and littered with bulky shadows of makeshift tents, carts, wagons, and barrels. People moved about in the growing dark. Some glanced at her as she passed, but no one spoke or approached her. She found the Barkers
wagon and as always, a great tarp stretched out from it like a porch awning. One of the bys spotted her and a moment later Lynette rushed out. Without a word, she threw her arms around Arista and squeezed tightly.
Come, have something to eat,
she said, wiping her cheeks and leading Arista by the hand. Lynette laid a pot on the fire.
I saved some just in case. I had to hide it, of course, or the vultures would have gobbled it all down. I wasn
t sure you
d be back
The rest of the Barkers gathered around the fire. The boys, Finis and Hingus, sat on the far side.
Brice Barker, dressed in his usual white shirt and gray trousers, sat on an upturned crate whittling a bit of wood. No one spoke. Arista took a seat on a wooden box feeling awkward. Although they tried not to, all of them stared.
Is that apprehension in their eyes, or outright fear?
Ella?
Lynette finally asked in a small, tentative voice.
Who are you?
I can
t tell you that,
she said after a long pause. She expected them to balk or argue, instead, they all nodded silently as if expecting her answer just as she had expected their question.
I don
t care who you are, you
re always welcome at this fire,
Brice said. He kept his eyes on the
flames, but his words betrayed an emotion she did not expect. Brice, who made his living shouting in the streets all day, hardly ever spoke.
Lynette dished out the bit of stew she had warmed up.
I wish there was more. If I had only known
you
d be back.
How is Wery?
Arista asked.
He slept all night, but was up most of the day running around causing a nuisance as usual.
Everyone who
s seen him is saying the same thing
it was a miracle.
Everyone?
Arista asked with concern.
Folks been stopping by all day to see him and asking about you. Many said they had sick children or loved ones who are dying. One got so angry he knocked down the canvas and nearly upset the wagon before Finis brought Brice home to clear him out.
I
m sorry.
Oh, don
t be! Please
no
don
t ever be sorry,
Lynette pleaded. She paused, her eyes tearing again.
You
won
t be able to stay with us anymore, will you?
Arista shook her head.
The hooded man?
And others.
I wish I could help,
Lynette said.
Arista leaned over and hugged her.
You have
more than you
ll ever know. If I could just get a good
night
s sleep, then I
Of course you can. Sleep in the wagon, it
s the least we can do.
Arista was too exhausted to argue. She climbed up and, in the privacy of the wagon, put the robe on to fight away the night
s cold. She crawled across a lumpy bedding of coarse cloth that smelled of potatoes and onions and laid her head down at last. It felt so good to close her eyes and let her muscles and mind go. She could hear them whispering outside, trying not to disturb her.
She
s a servant of Maribor,
one of the boys said. She could not tell which.
That
s why she can
t say.
The gods never let them say.
Or she could be Kile
a god disguised and doing good deeds,
the other added.
I heard he gets
feathers from Muriel
s cloak for each one he does.
Hush! She
ll hear you,
Lynette scolded.
Go clean that pot.
Arista fell asleep to their whispers and woke to loud voices.
I tell you I don
t know what you
re talking about! I don
t know anything about a witch.
It was Brice
s
voice and he sounded frightened.
Arista peered out from the wagon. An imperial soldier stood holding a torch, his way blocked by Brice. Behind him, farther up the alley, other soldiers pounded on the door to the tannery, and forced their way into the other tents.
Sergeant,
the man in front of Brice called,
over here!
Three soldiers walked fast, their armor jangling, hard boots hammering the cobblestone.
Tear down this hovel and search it,
the Sergeantered.
Continue to do the same for all these places.
They
re an eyesore and should be removed anyway.
Leave them alone,
Arista said, stepping out of the wagon.
They haven
t done anything.
Ella!
Brice snapped.
Stay out of this.
The sergeant moved briskly toward Arista but Brice stepped in the way.
Leave my daughter alone,
he threatened.
Brice, no,
Arista whispered.
I am only here for the witch,
the soldier told them.
But if you insist I will be happy to torch every
tent in this alley.
She
s no witch!
Lynette cried, clutching Wery to her side.
She saved my baby. She
s a servant of
Maribor!
The sergeant studied Arista briefly, sucking on his front teeth.
Bind her!
he ordered.
Two of his men stepped forward with a length of rope and grabbed hold of Arista by her arms.
They immediately cried out in pain, let go, and stumbled backward. One fell over a bucket.
Esrahaddon
s robe glowed a deep pulsating red. The guards glared at her in fear, shaking their injured hands.
Seeing her chance, Arista closed her eyes and began to concentrate. She focused on blocking out the sounds of the street and on
Pain exploded across her face.
She fell backward to the ground where she lay dazed. Her eyesight darkened at the edges, a ringing wailed in her ears.
We
ll have none of that!
The sergeant declared.
She looked up through watery eyes seeing him standing over her rubbing his knuckles. He drew his sword and pointed it at Brice.
I know better than to let you cast your spells, witch. Don
t make another sound and remove that
robe. Do it now! I
ll strip you naked if needed. Make no sudden moves or sounds, or I
ll cleave off
this man
s head here and now.
Lynette was somewhere to her right, and Arista heard her gasp in horror.
The robe. Take it off!
Arista wiggled out of the robe leaving her clothed only in Lynette
s thin kirtle. The sergeant sucked
on his teeth again and stepped closer.
Are my men going to have any more trouble with you?
He
lifted the point of his sword toward Brice once again.
Arista shook her head.
Good. Bind her tightly. Wrap her wrists and fingers and find something to gag her with.
The guards
approached again and jerked her arms so roughly behind her back that she cried out.
Please don
t hurt her,
Lynette begged.
She didn
t do anything wrong!
They tied her wrists, wrapping the rope around her fingers, pulling until the skin pinched painfully.
As they did, the sergeant ordered Lynette to pick up the robe and hand it to him. One of the soldiers grabbed Arista by the hair, dragging her to her feet. Another took hold of one of her sleeves and ripped it off.
Open yer mouth,
he ordered, pulling Arista
s head back. When she hesitated, the soldier slapped her across the face. Again, she staggered and might have fallen if not for the other guard still holding her hair. The slap was not nearly as painful as the blow the sergeant gave, but it watered her eyes again.
Now open!
He stuffed the material into her mouth, jamming it in so far Arista thought she would choke. He tied it in place by wrapping more rope around her head and wedging it between her lips. When they tied one final length around her neck, Arista feared they might hang her right there.
Now, that should keep us safe,
declared the sergeant.
We
ll cut those hands off when we get to the
palace, and after you
ve answered questions I expect we
ll take that tongue out as well.
A crowd gathered as they dragged her away and Arista could hear Lynette weeping. As they reached Coswell, the patrons of The Bailey turned out to watch. The men stood on the porch holding mugs. She heard the wordwitch muttered more than once as she passed by.
By the time they reached the square, she was out of breath from the quic pace and choking on the gag. The guard holding the leash was one of those hurt by the robe and he jerked hard whenever she lagged behind.
She stumbled frequently but stayed on her feet. Seeing her fall behind once again, the soldier pulled hard. This time she was off balance and fell. Her left knee struck the cobblestone of Bingham Square and she screamed, but the sound came out as a muffled grunt. Twisting, she landed on her shoulder to avoid hitting her face. Lying on her side Arista cried in agony from the pain shooting up her leg.
Up!
the soldier ordered. The rope tightened on her throat, the rough cord cutting her skin. The guard growled,
Get up, you lazy ass!
He pulled harder, dragging her a few inches across the stones.
The rope constricted. She heard the pounding of blood in her ears.
Up damn you!
She felt the rope cut into her neck. She could barely breathe. The pounding in her ears hammered like drums, pressure building.
Bruce?
one of the guards called.
Get her up!
I
m trying!
There was another tug and Arista managed to sit up, but she was light-headed now. The street tilted and wobbled. It was becoming hard to see, as darkness grew at the edges of her vision. She tried to tell them she was choking. All that came out was a pitiful moan.
She struggled to reach her knees, but the dizziness worsened, the ground shifted and dipped. She fell, hitting her shoulder again and rolled to her back. She looked up at the soldier holding the leash and pleaded with her eyes, but all she saw in reply was anger and disgust.
Get up or
He stopped. The soldier looked abruptly to his right. His face appeared puzzled. He let go of the rope and took a step backward.
The cord loosened, the pounding eased, and she could breathe again. She laid in the street, her eyes closed, happy to be alive. The clang of metal and the scuffle of feet caught her attention. Arista looked up to see the would-be strangler collapse to the street beside her.
Standing an arm
s length away, the hooded man loomed with a blood-coated sword. From his belt, he drew a dagger and threw it. Somewhere behind her, there was a grunt and a sound like a sack of flour hitting the ground.
The hooded man bolted past her. She heard a cry of pain. Metal struck metal, another grunt, this one followed by a gurgled voice speaking garbled words. Another clash, another cry. She twisted around, rolling to her knees. She found him again. He stood in the center of Bingham Square holding his sword in one hand and a dagger in the other. Three bodies laid on the ground. Two soldiers remained.
Who are you?
the sergeant shouted at him.
We are imperial soldiers acting on official orders.
The hooded man said nothing. He rushed forward swinging his blade. He dodged to the right and, catching the sergeant
s sword high, he stabbed the man in the neck with his dagger. As he did, the remaining soldier swung at him. The hooded man cried out then whirled in rage. He charged the last soldier, striking at him, his overwhelming fury driving the guard back.
The soldier turned and ran. The hooded man gave chase. The guard nearly made it to the end of the street before he was cleaved in the back. Once the soldier collapsed, the man continued attacking his screaming victim, stabbing him until he fell silent and still.
Arista sat bound in the middle of the square, helpless as the hooded man turned and, with his sword and cloak dripping blood, came for her. He pulled Arista to her feet and into a narrow alley.
He was breathing hard, sucking wetly through the scarf. No longer having the strength, physical or mental, Arista did not resist. The world was spinning and the night slipped into the unreal. She did not know what was happening or why and she gave up trying to understand.
He dragged her into a stable, pushing her against the rough-hewn wall. A pair of horses shifted fearfully, spooked by the smell of blood. He heldher tightly and brought his knife to her throat.
Arista closed her eyes and held her breath. She felt the cold steel press against her skin as he drew it, cutting the cord away. He spun her around and cut her wrists loose, then the cord holding the gag fell free.
Follow me, quickly,
he whispered, pulling her along by the hand. Confused, she staggered after him. Something was familiar in that voice.
He led her through a dizzying array of alleys, around dark buildings and over wooden fences. Soon she had no idea where they were. He paused in a darkened corner, holding a finger to his scarf-covered lips. They waited briefly then moved on. The wind picked up, carrying an odor of fish and Arista heard the sound of surf. Ahead, she could see the naked masts of ships bobbing at anchor along the wharf. When he reached a particularly dilapidated building, he led her up a back stair into a small room and closed the door behind them.
She stood rigid near the door, watching him as he started a fire in an iron stove. Seeing his hands, his arms, and the tilt of his head
something was so familiar. With the fire stoked, he turned and took a step toward her. Arista shrank until her back was against the door. He hesitated, then nodded. She recognized something in his eyes.
Reaching up, he drew back his hood and unwrapped the scarf. The face before her was painful to look at. Deformed and horribly scarred, it appeared to have melted into a patchwork of red blotches.
One ear was missing, along with his eyebrows and much of his hair. His mouth lacked the pale pink of lips. His appearance was at once horrid and yet so welcomed she could find no words to express herself. She broke into tears of joy and threw her arms around him, hugging as tightly as her strength allowed.
I hope this will teach you not to run off without me, Your Highness,
Hilfred told her.
She continued to cry and squeeze, her head buried in his chest. Slowly his arms crept up returning her embrace. She looked up and he brushed strands of tear-soaked hair from her face. In more than a decade as her protector, he never touched her so intimately. As if realizing this, Hilfred straightened up and gently escorted her to a chair before reaching for his scarf.
You
re not going back out?
she asked fearfully.
No,
he replied, his voice dropped a tone.
The city will be filled with guards. It won
t be safe for
either of us to venture in public for some time. We
ll be all right here. There are no occupied
buildings around and I rented this flat from a blind man.
Then why are you covering up?
He paused a moment looking at the scarf.
The sight of my face
it makes people
uneasy, and it is
important that you feel safe and comfortable. That
s my job remember?
And you do it very well, but your face doesn
t make me uncomfortable.
You don
t find me
unpleasant to look at?
Arista smiled warmly.
Hilfred, your face is the most beautiful thing I
ve ever seen.
***
The flat Hilfred stayed in was very small, just a single room and a closet. The floor and walls were rough pine planks weathered gray and scuffed smooth from wear. There was a rickety table, three chairs, and a ship
s hammock. The single window was hazy from the buildup of ocean salt and admitted only a muted gray light. Hilfred refused to burn a single candle after dark for fear of attracting attention. The small stove kept the drafty shack tolerably warm at night, but before dawn it was extinguished for fear of someone seeing the smoke.
For two days they stayed in the shack listening to the wind buffet the roof shingles and howl over the stovepipe. Hilfred made soup from clams and fish he bought from the old blind man. Other than that, neither of them left the little room. Arista slept a lot. It seemed like years since she had felt safe and her body surrendered to exhaustion.
Hilfred kept her covered and crept around the flat cursing to himself whenever he made a noise. On the night of the second day, she woke when he dropped a spoon. He looked at her sheepishly and cringed at the sight of her open eyes.
Sorry, I was just warming up some soup. I thought you might be hungry.
Thank you,
she told him.
Thank you?
Yes, isn
t that what you say when someone does something for you?
He raised what would have been his eyebrows.
I
ve been your servant for more than ten years,
you
ve never once saidthank you .
It was the truth, and it hurt to hear it. What a monster she had been.
Well overdue then, don
t you think? Let me check your bandage.
After you eat, Your Highness.
She looked at him and smiled.
I have missed you so,
she said. Surprise crossed his face.
You know,
there were times growing up that I hated you. Mostly after the fire
for not saving my mother, but
later I hated the way you always followed me. I knew you reported my every move. It
s a terrible
thing for a teenage girl to have a teenage boy silently following her every step, watching her eat, watching her sleep, knowing her most intimate secrets. You were always silent, always watchful.
Did you know I had a crush on you when I was fourteen?
No,
he said, curtly.
You were what? A dashing seventeen? I tried everything to make you jealous. I chased after all the squires at court, pretending they wanted me, but none of them did. And you you were such the
loathingly perfect gentleman. You stood by stoically, and it infuriated me. I would go to bed humiliated, knowing that you were standing just outside the door.
When I was older I treated you like furniture
still, you treated me as you always did. During the trial
she noticed Hilfred flinch, and decided not to finish the thought.
And afterward I thought you
believed what they said and hated me.
Hilfred put down the spoon and sighed.
What?
she asked, suddenly fearful.
He shook his head and a small sad laugh escaped his lips.
It
s nothing, Your Highness.
Hilfred, call me Arista.
He raised his brow once more.
I can
t. You
re my princess, and I am your servant. That is how it has always been.
Hilfred you
ve known me since I was ten. You
ve followed me day and night. You
ve seen me early
in the morning. You
ve seen me drenched in sweat from fevers. I think you can call me by my first name.
He looked almost frightened and resumed stirring the pot.
Hilfred?
I am sorry, Your Highness. I cannot call you by your given name.
What if I command you to?
Do you?
No.
Arista sighed.
What is it with men who won
t use my name?
Hilfred glanced at her.
I only knew him briefly,
she explained, not knowing why. She had never spoken about Emery to anyone before.
I
ve lived so much of my life alone. It never bothered me before and there
s never
been anyone
until recently.
Hilfred looked down and stirred the soup.
He was killed. Since then, I have felt this hole. The other night I was so scared. I thought
no, I was
certain
I was going to my death. I lost hope and then you appeared. I could really use a friend
and if
you called me by
I can
t be your friend, Your Highness,
Hilfred told her, coldly.
Why not?
There was a long pause.
I can
t tell you that.
A loud silence filled the room.
Arista stood, clutching the blanket around her shoulders. She stared at Hilfred
s back until it seemed
her stare caused him to turn and face her. When he did, he avoided looking in her eyes. He set out bowls on the table. She stood before him, blocking his way.
Hilfred, look at me.
The soup is done.
I
m not huy. Look at me,
Arista repeated.
I don
t want it to burn.
Hilfred.
He said nothing and kept his eyes focused on the floor.
What have you done that you can
t face me?
He did not answer.
The realization dawned on her and devastated Arista. He was not there to save her. He was not her friend. The betrayal was almost too much to bear.
It
s true,
her voice quivered.
You do believe the stories they say about me. That I am a witch. That I am evil. That I killed my father over my lust for the throne. Are you working for Saldur, or someone else? Did you steal me from the palace guards for some political advantage? Or is this all some plan to
to control me, to get me to trust you and lure me into revealing something?
Her words had a profound effect on him. He looked pained as if rained by blows. His face strained, his jaw stiff.
You could at least tell me the truth,
she said.
I should think you owe that much to my father, if not
to me. He trusted you. He picked you to be my bodyguard. He gave you a chance to make something of yourself. You
ve enjoyed the privilege of court life because of his faith in you.
Hilfred was having trouble breathing. He turned away from her and, grabbing his scarf, moved toward the door.
Yes, go
go on!
She shouted.
Tell them it didn
t work. Tell them I didn
t fall for it. Tell Sauly and the
rest of those bastards that
that I
m not the stupid, little girl they thought I was! You should have kept me tied and gagged, Hilfred. You
re going to find it harder to haul me off to the stake than you think!
Hilfred slammed his hand against the doorframe making Arista jump. He spun on her, his eyes fierce and wild in a way she had never seen before, and she stepped back.
DO YOU KNOW WHY I SAVED YOU?
he shouted, his voice broken and shaking.
Do you? Do
you?
To
to hand me over and get
No! No! Not now, backthen ,
he cried, waving his arm.
Years ago, when the palace was burning.
Do you know why I saved you then?
She did not speak. She did not move.
I wasn
t the only one there, you know. There were others. Soldiers, priests, servants, they all just stood watching. They knew you were inside, but not a single person did anything. They just stood watching the place burn, but not me. Bishop Saldur saw me running for the castle and actually ordered me to stop. He said it was too late, that I would die. I believed him. I truly did, but I went in anyway. Do you know why? DO YOU?
He shouted at her.
She shook her head.
It was because I didn
t care if I died. I didn
t want to live
not if you died.
Tears streamed down his
scarred face.
But don
t ask me to be your friend. That is far too cruel a torture. As long as I can maintain a safe distance, as long as
as long as there is a wall between us
even if it is only one of
words, I can tolerate
I canbear it.
Hilfred wiped his eyes with his scarf.
Your father knew what he
was doing
oh yes, he knewexactly what he was doing when he appointed me your bodyguard. I would die a thousand times over to protect you. But don
t ask me to be grateful to him for the life
he
s given me, for it has been one of pain. I wish I had died that night so many years ago, or at least in Dahlgren. Then it would be over. I wouldn
t have to look at you. I wouldn
t have to wake up every
day wishing I had been born the son of a great knight, or you the daughter of a poor shepherd.
He turned away covering his eyes and laying his head against the threshold. Arista did not recall doing it, but somehow she crossed the room. She took Hilfred
s face in her hands and rising up on
her toes she kissed his mouth. He did not move, but he trembled. He did not breathe, but he gasped.
Look at me,
she said extending her arms to display her stained asomehowrn kirtle.
A shepherd
s
daughter would pity me, don
t you think? She took his hand and kissed it.
Can you ever forgive me?
He looked at her confused.
For what?
For being so blind.
Chapter 12
Sea Wolves
As it had for days, theEmerald Storm remained on its easterly course, making slow progress against a headwind that refused to shift. Maintaining direction required frequent tacking which caused the top crews to work all night. Royce, as usual, had drawn the late shift. It was not Dime
s fault. Royce
had concluded that the mainmast captain was a fair man, but Royce was the newest member of a crew that rewarded seniority. He did not mind the shift. He enjoyed the nights he spent aloft. The air was fresh and in the dark among the ropes he was as comfortable as a spider in his web. This afforded Royce the opportunity to relax, think, and occasionally amuse himself by tormenting Defoe, who panicked any time his old guild mate lost track of Royce.
Royce hung in the netting of the futtock shroud, his feet dangling over the open space
a drop of
nearly a hundred feet. Above lay the dust of stars, while on the horizon, the moon rose as a sliver
a
cat
s eye peering across the water at him. Below, lanterns flickering on the bow, quarterdeck, and the stern, outlined theEmerald Storm . To his left he could just make out the dark coast of Calis drifting lazily by thick vegetation punctuated by the occasional cliff, often marked by the brilliant white plume of a waterfall catching moonlight.
The seasickness was gone. He could not recall a more miserable time than his first week on board.
The nausea and dizziness reminded him of being drunk
a sensation he hated. He spent most of the
first night hugging the ship
s figurehead and vomiting off the bow. After four days, his stomach settled but he remained drained, and tired easily. It took weeks, but he forgot all that as he nested in the rigging looking out at the dark sea. It surprised him just how beautiful the black waves could be.
The graceful undulating swells kissed by the barefaced moon, all below a scattering of stars. Only one sight could beat it.
What is she doing right now? Is she looking at the same moon and thinking of me?
Royce reached inside his tunic, pulled out the scarf, and rubbed the material between his fingers.
He held it to his face and breathed deep. It smelled like her. Soft and warm, he kept it hidden
his tiny
treasure. On the nights of his sickness, he had lain in the hammock clutching it to his cheek as if a magic talisman to ward off misery. It was how he fell asleep.
The officers
deck hatch opened and Royce spotted Beryl stepping out into the night air. Beryl liked his sleep and, being senior midshipman, rarely held the late watch. He stood glancing around, taking in the lay of the deck. He cast an eye up at the maintop, but Royce knew he was invisible in the dark tangles. Beryl spotted Wesley making his rounds on the forecastle and made his way across the waist and up the stair. Wesley looked concerned at his approach but held his ground. Perhaps the boy would get another beating tonight. Whatever torments Beryl planned for Wesley were no concern of Royce, and he thought it might be time to scare Defoe again.
I won
t do it,
Wesley declared, drawing Royce
s attention. Once more Royce noticed Beryl
nervously looking upward.
Who are you looking for, Mister Beryl?
He unhooked himself from the shrouds and rolled over for his own glance upward. As usual, Defoe was keeping his distance.
No threat there.
Royce climbed to the yard, walked to the end and just as he had done during the race with Derning, slid down the rope so he could hear them.
I can make life on this ship very difficult for you,
Beryl threatened Wesley.
Or have you forgotten
your two days without sleep? There is talk that I wi made acting lieutenant, and if you think your life is hard with me as the senior midshipman
as a lieutenant it will be a nightmare. And I
ll see to it
that any transfer is refused.
I don
t understand.
You don
t have to. In fact, it
s better if you don
t. That way you can sound sincere if the captain
questions you. Just find him guilty of something. Misconduct, disrespect, I don
t care. You put his
buddy the cook on report for not saluting, do something like that. Only this time it needs to be a flogging offense.
But why me? Why can
tyou invent this charge?
Because if the accusation comes from you, the captain and Mister Bishop will not question it.
He
grinned.
And if they don
t
it
s your ass not mine.
And that
s supposed to entice me?
No, but I
ll get off your back. If you don
t
you won
t eat, you won
t sleep, and you
ll become very
accident-prone. The sea can be dangerous. Midshipmen Jenkins lost both thumbs on our last voyage when he slipped with a rope, which is strange
cause he didn
t handle ropes that day. Invent a charge,
make it stick, and get him flogged.
And why do you want him whipped?
I told you. My friends want blood. Now do we have a deal?
Wesley stared at Beryl and took a deep breath.
I can
t misrepresent a man, and certainly not one
under my command, simply to avoid personal discomfort.
It will be a great deal more than discomfort you little git!
The best I can do is forget we had this conversation. Of course, should some unusual or circumstantial accusation be leveled against Seaman Melborn, I might find it necessary to report this incident to the captain. I suspect he will take a dim view of your efforts to advance insubordination on his vessel. It could be viewed as the seeds of mutiny, and we both know the penalty for that.
You don
t know who you
re playing with, boy. As much as you
d like to think it, you
re no Breckton.
If I can
t use you, I
ll lose you.
Is that all, Mister Beryl? I must tack the ship now.
Beryl spit at the younger man
s feet and stalked away. Wesley remained standing rigidly, watching him go. Once Beryl disappeared below, he gripped the rail and took off his hat to wipe the sweat from his forehead. Wesley took a deep breath, replaced his hat, straightened his jacket, then shouted in a clear voice.
Hands to the braces! Prepare to bring her about!
Royce had dealt with many people in his life, from serfs to kings, and few shocked him. He knew he could always depend on their greed and weakness and was rarely disappointed. Wesley was the first in years to surprise him. While the young midshipman could not see it, the thief offered him the only sincere salute bestowed since Royce stepped aboard.
Royce ascended to the topsail to loose the yard brace in anticipation of Wesley
s next order when
his eye caught an irregularity on the horizon. At night, with only the suggestion of a moon, it was hard for anyone to tell where the sky ended and the sea began. Royce however, could discern the difference. At that moment, he noticed a break in the line. Out to sea, ahead of theStorm , a black silhouette broke the dusty star field.
Sail ho!
he shouted.
What was that?
Wesley asked.
Sail off the starboard bow,
he shouted, pointing to the southeast.
Is there a light?
No, sir, a triangle-shaped sail.
Wesley moved to the starboard rail.
I don
t see anything, how far out?
On the horizon, sir.
The horizon?
Wesley picked up the eyeglass and panned the sea. The rest of the ship was silent except for the creaking of the oak timbers as they waited.
I
ll be buggered,
Wesley muttered, as he
slapped the glass closed and ran to the quarterdeck to pound on the captain
s cabin. He paused then
pounded again.
Te door opened to reveal the captain, barefoot in his nightshirt.
Mister Wesley, have we run
aground? Is there a mutiny?
The captain
s steward rushed to him with his robe.
No, sir. There
s a sail on the horizon, sir.
A what?
A triangular sail, sir. Over there.
Wesley pointed while handing him the glass.
On the horizon you say? But how
Seward crossed to the rail and looked out.
By Mar! But you
ve
got keen eyes, lad!
Actually, the maintop crew spotted it first, sir. Sounded like Seaman Melborn, sir.
Looks likethree ships, Mister Wesley. Call all hands.
Aye, aye, sir!
Wesley roused Bristol who roused the rest of the crew and in a matter of minutes men ran to their stations. Mister Bishop was still buttoning his coat when he reached the quarterdeck, followed by Mister Temple.
What is it, sir?
The Dacca have returned.
Wyatt, who was taking the helm, glanced over.
Orders, sir?
he asked coldly.
Watch your tone, helmsman!
Temple snapped.
Just asking, sir.
Asking for a caning!
Mister Temple roared.
And you
ll get one if you don
t keep a civil tongue.
Shut up the both of you. I need to think.
Seward began to pace the quarterdeck, his head down, one hand playing with the tie to his robe, the other stroking his lips.
Sir, we only have one chance and it
s a thin one at that,
Wyatt said.
Mister Temple took hold of his cane and moved toward him.
Belay, Mister Temple!
The captain ordered, before turning his attention back to Wyatt.
Explain
yourself, helmsman.
At that range, with the land behind us, the Dacca can
t possibly see theStorm . All they can see are
the lanterns.
Good god! You
re right, put out those
No, wait, sir!
Wyatt stopped him.
Wewant them to see the lanterns. Lower the long boat, rig it with a pole fore and aft, and hang two lanterns on the ends. Put ours out as you light those then cast off.
The Dacca will focus on it all night. We
ll be able to bring theStorm about, catch the wind, and reach the safety of Wesbaden Bay.
But that
s not our destination.
Damn our orders, sir! If we don
t catch the wind the Dacca will be on us by tomorrow night.
I
mthe captain of this ship!
Seward roared.
Another outburst and I
ll not hold Mister Temple
s hand.
The captain looked at the waiting crew; every eye was on him. He returned to pacing with his head down.
Sir?
Mister Bishop inquired.
Orders?
Can
t you see I
m thinking, man?
Yes, sir.
The wind fluttered the sails overhead as the ship began to lose the angle on the wind.
Lower the long boat,
Seward ordered at last.
Rig it with poles and lanterns.
And our heading?
Seward tapped his lips.
I shouldn
t need to remind you, Captain Seward,
Thranic said as he climbed the ladder to the
quarterdeck,
that it is imperative that we reach the port of Dagastan without delay.
Seward tapped his lips once more.
Send the long boat aft with a crew of four, have them stroke for their lives toward Wesbaden. The Dacca will think we
ve seen them and will expect us to head that
way, but theStorm will maintain its present course. There is to be no light on this ship without my order, and I want absolute silence. Do you hear me? Not a sound.
Aye, sir.
Seward glanced at Wyatt, who shook his head with a look of disgust. The captain ignored him and turned to Bishop.
See to it Mister Bishop.
Aye, aye, sir.
***
You should have tried for the long boat
s crew,
Wyatt whispered to Hadrian.
We all should have.
It was still dark but the crescent moon halong since fallen into the sea. As per the captain
s orders,
the ship was quiet. The only sound came from the whispers of some of the men who had not returned to their hammocks after the long boat launched. Even the wind died, and the ship rocked motionless and silent in the darkness.
You don
t have a lot of faith in Seward
s decision?
The Dacca are smarter than he is.
You
ve got to at least give him the benefit of the doubt. They might think we turned and ran.
Wyatt muffled a laugh.
If you were captain and decided to make a run for it against faster ships in the dead of night, would you have left the lanterns burning? The lantern ruse only works if they think wehaven
t seen them.
I hadn
t thought of that,
Hadrian admitted.
We
ll know soon enough if they took the bait. It
s getting
lighter.
Where
s Royce and his eagle eyes?
Wyatt asked.
He went to sleep after his shift. Sleep and eat when you can so you don
t regret it later
something
we
ve learned over the years.
They peered out across the water as the light increased.
Maybe the captain was right,
Hadrian said.
How do you mean?
I don
t see them.
Wyatt laughed.
You don
t see them because you can
t see anything, not even a horizon. There
s fog
on the water. It happens this time of year.
It grew lighter and Hadrian could see Wyatt was right. A thick gray blanket of clouds surrounded them.
Mister Bishop climbed to the quarterdeck and rapped softly on the captain
s door.
You asked to be
awakened at first light, sir,
he whispered
The captain came out fully dressed this time, and proudly strode to the bridge.
Fog, sir.
The captain scowled at him.
I can see that, Mister Bishop. I
m not blind.
No, sir.
Send a lad up the main masts with a glass.
Mister Wesley,
Bishop called softly and the midshipman came running.
Take this glass to the
masthead and report.
Aye, sir.
Captain Seward stood with his hand fidgeting behind his back, rocking on his heels and staring out at the fog.
It at least looks promising so far, doesn
t it, Mister Bishop?
It does indeed, sir. The fog will help hide us all the more.
What do you think now, helmsman?
the captain asked Wyatt.
I think I
ll wait for Mister Wesley
s report. If you don
t mind, sir.
Seward folded his arms in irritation and began to pace, his short legs and plump belly doing little to impart the vision of a commanding figure.
Wesley reached the masthead and extended the glass.
Well?
Seward called aloud, his impatience getting the better of him.
I can
t tell, sir. The fog is too thick.
They say the Dacca can use magic to raise a fog when they want,
Poe whispered to Hadrian as they
watched.
They
re likely using it to sneak up on us.
Or maybe it
s just because the air is cooler this morning,
Hadrian replied.
Poe shrugged.
The crew stood around silent and idle for an hour before Mister Temple ordered Hadrian to serve the morning meal. The men ate then wandered the deck in silence, like ghosts in a misty world of white. The midday meal came and went as well, with no break in the mist that continued to envelop them.
Hadrian had just finished cleaning up when he heard Wesley
s voice from the masthead shout,
Sail!
Emerging from the hold, Hadrian felt a cool breeze as a wind moved the fog, parting the hazy white curtains veil after veil.
The single word left everyone on edge.
Good Maribor, man!
Seward shouted up.
What kind of sail?
Red lateen sails, sir!
Damn!
Seward cursed.
How many?
Five!
Five? Five! How could there be five?
No, wait!
Wesley shouted.
Six to windward! And three more coming off the port bow.
The captain
s face drained of color.
Good Maribor!
Even as he spoke, Hadrian spotted the sails clustered on the water.
Orders captain?
Wyatt asked.
Seward glanced around him desperately.
Mister Bishop, lay the ship on the port tack.
Wyatt shook his head defiantly.
We need to grab the wind.
Damn you!
He hesitated only a moment than shouted,
So be it! Hard a port, helmsman. Bring her
around, hard over!
Wyatt spun the wheel, the chains cranking the rudder so that the ship started to turn. Mister Temple barked orders to the crew. TheEmerald Storm was sluggish, stalling in the futile wind. The ship slowed to a mere drift. Then the foresail fluttered, billowed, and started to draw. She was coming around slowly. The yards turned as the men ran aft with the lee-braces. The mainsail caught the breeze and blew full. The ship creaked loudly as the masts took up the strain.
TheStorm picked up speed and was halfway round and pointed toward the coast. Still, Wyatt held the wheel hard over. The wind pressed the sails and leaned the ship dipping the beam dangerously low. Spray broke over the rail as men grabbed hold of whatever they could to remain standing as the deck tilted steadily upward. The captain glared at Wyatt as he too grabbed hold of the mizzen shroud, yet he held his tongue.
Letting the wind take the ship full-on with all sails set, Wyatt pressed the wheel raising the ship on its edge. Mister Bishop and Mister Temple glanced from Wyatt to the captain and back again, but no one dared give an order in the captain
s presence.
Hadrian also grabbed hold of a rail to keep from slipping down the deck. Holding tight, he worried Wyatt might capsize her. The hull groaned from the strain, the masts creaked with the pressure, but the ship picked up speed. At first the ship bucked through the waves sending bursts of spray over the deck, then faster she went until theStorm skipped the waves, flying off the crests with the wind squarely on her aft quarter. The ship made its tight circle and at last Wyatt let up, leveling the deck.
The ship fell in direct line with the wind and the bow rose as she ran with it.
Trim the sails
Mister Bishop ordered and the men set to work once more, periodically glancing astern to watch the approach of the ships.
Mister Bishop,
Seward called.
Disburse weapons to the men, and issue an extra ration of grog.
Royce was on his way aloft as the larboard crew came off duty.
How long do you think before they
catch us?
he asked Hadrian, looking aft at the tiny armada of red sails chasing their wake.
I don
t know. I
ve never done this before. What do you think?
Royce shrugged,
A few hours maybe.
It
s not looking good, is it?
And you wanted to be a sailor.
***
Hadrian went about the business of preparing for the evening meal, mindful that it might be the last the men would have. Poe, conspicuously absent, hastily entered the galley.
Where you been?
Poe looked sheepish.
Talking to Wyatt. Those Dacca ships are gaining fast. They
ll be on us tonight
for sure.
Hadrian nodded grimly.
Poe moved to help cut the salted pork, then added.
Wyatt has a plan. It won
t save everyone, only a
handful really, and it may not work at all, but it
s something. He wants to know if you
re in.
What about Royce?
Him too.
What
s the plan?
Sail!
they heard Mister Wesley cry even from the galley,
Two more tartanes dead ahead!
Poe and Hadrian, like everyone else aboard, scrambled to the deck to see Mister Wesley pointing off the starboard bow. Two red sails were slipping out from hidden coves along the shore to block their retreat. Sailing nimbly against the wind, they moved to intercept.
Clear th deck for action!
Seward shouted from the quarterdeck, wiping the sweat from his head.
Men scrambled across the ship, once more hauling buckets of sand and water. Archers took their positions on the forecastle, stringing their bows. Oil and hot coals were placed at the ready.
We need to steer clear,
the captain said.
Helm bring her
We need speed,sir ,
Wyatt interrupted.
The captain winced at the interruption.
Be mindful Deminthal or I
ll skip the flogging I owe you
and have you hanged!
With all due respect, you abdicated that privilege to the Dacca last night. All the sooner if I alter course now.
By Maribor! Mister Temple take
The captain stopped as he spotted the tartanes begin to turn.
See! They expected us to break,
Wyatt told him.
Realizing their mistake, the Dacca fought to swing back, but it was too late. A hole had been created.
Seward grumbled and scowled at Wyatt.
Sir?
Temple asked.
Never mind. Steady as she goes. Mister Bishop! Order the archers to take aim at the port side ship!
Perhaps we can slow them down if we can manage to set one afire.
Aye, aye, sir!
Hadrian rushed to the forecastle. Having proved himself one of the best archers on the ship, his station was at the center of the port side. He picked a strong, solid bow and tested the string
s
strength.
The wind will set the arrows off a bit toward the bow,
Poe mentioned, readying a bucket of glowing
hot coals.
Might want to lead the target a bit, eh?
You
re my squire now as well?
Poe smiled, and shook his head.
I
ve seen you in practice. I figure the safest place on this ship right now is here. I
ll hand the oiled arrows. You just keep firing.
The Dacca tartanes slipped through the waves, their red triangular sails billowing out sideways as they struggled on a tight tack to make the best use of the head wind. Dark figures scurried like ants across the decks and rigging of the smaller ships.
Ready arrows!
Mister Bishop shouted.
Hadrian fitted his first shaft in the string.
As the Dacca closed on theStorm they began to turn. Their yards swept round and their tillers cranked, pivoting much as Wyatt had, the action all the more impressive as both ships moved in perfect unison, like dancers performing simultaneous pirouettes.
Light arrows!
Hadrian touched the oil-soaked wad at the tip of the shaft to the pot of coals and it burst into flame.
A row of men on the port side stood ready, a trail of soot-black smoke wafting aft.
Take aim!
Mister Bishop ordered as the Dacca ships came into range. On the deck of the tartanes, a line of flaming arrows mirrored their own.
Fire!
Into the blue sky flew a staggered arc of fire trailing black smoke. At the same time, the Dacca launched their volley and the two passed each other in midair. All around him, Hadrian heard the pattering of arrows. The bucket brigade was running to douse the flames and above, Royce dropped along a line to kick free one lodged in the masthead before it could ignite the mainsail.
Poe had another arrow ready. Hadrian fitted it, lit it with the pot, took aim, and sent it into the lower right yard of their mainsail. To his right he heard the loudthwack of the massive ballista that sent forth a huge flaming missile. It struck the side of the tartane, splintering the hull and lodging there.
Hadrian heard a hissing fly past his ear. Behind him, the oil bucket splashed and the liquid ignited.
Poe jumped backward as his trousers flamed. Grabbing a nearby bucket Hadrian smothered the burning oil with sand.
Another volley rained, peppering the deck. Boatswain Bristol, in the process of cranking the ballista for a second shot, fell dead with an arrow in his throat, his hair catching fire. Basil, the officers
cook, took one in the chest, and Seaman Bliden screamed as two arrows hit him, one in the thigh and the other through his hand. Looking up, Hadrian saw this second volley came from the other ship.
Shaken but not seriously harmed, Poe found another oil bucket and brought it to Hadrian. As the two ships came close, Hadrian found what he was looking for
a bucket at the feet of the archers.
Leading his target, he held his breath, took aim, and released. The tartane
s bucket exploded.
Hadrian spotted a young Dacca attempt to douse the flames with water. Instantly the fire washed the deck. At that moment, theStorm
s ballista crew, having loaded the weapon with multiple bolts this time, released a cruel hail on the passing Dacca. Screams bridged the gap between the ships as theStorm sailed on, leaving the burning ships in their wake.
Once more, the crew cheered their victory, but it was hollow. Amid the blackened scorch marks left by scores of arrows, a dozen men lay dead on the deck. They had not slipped through the trap unscathed and the red sails behind them were closer now.
***
When night fell, the captain ordered the off-crew, including Hadrian and Royce, below deck to rest.
They went to their quarters and took the opportunity to change into their cloaks and tunics. Hadrian strapped on his swords. It brought a few curious looks, but no one said a word.
Not a single man slept and few even sat. Most paced with their heads bowed to avoid the short ceiling, but perhaps this time they were also praying. Many of the crew had appeared superstitious, but none religious
until now.
Why don
t we put inland?
Seaman Davis asked his fellow sailors.
The coast
s only a few miles off.
We could put in and escape into the jungle.
Coral shoals ring the shores of Calis,
Banner said, scraping the surface of the table with a knife.
We
d rip the bottom of theStorm a mile out and the Dacca would have it. Besides, the captain ain
t
gonna abandon his ship and run.
Captain Seward is an arse!
Watch yer mouth, lad!
Why? What
s he gonna do that can be worse than the Dacca?
To that, Banner had no answer. No one did. Fear spread through the crew, fear of certain death and the poison that comes from waiting idly for it. Hadrian knew from countless battles the folly of leaving men to stagnate with nothing else to occupy their thoughts.
The hatch opened and everyone looked up. It was Wyatt and Poe.
What
s the word?
Davis asked.
It won
t be long now men, make ready what you need to. The captain will call general quarters soon, I expect.
Wyatt paused at the bottom of the ladder and spoke quietly with Grady and Derning. They nodded then went aft. Wyatt motioned with his eyes for Hadrian and Royce to follow him forward. Only empty hammocks filled the cramped space leaving them enough privacy to speak.
So, what
s this plan?
Royce whispered.
We can
t win a fight,
Wyatt told them.
All we can hope to do is run.
You said theStorm can
t outrun them,
Hadrian reminded him.
I wasn
t planning on outrunning them in theStorm .
Hadrian and Royce exchanged glances.
The Dacca will want her and the cargo. That
s why we made it through the blockade so easily. They
were trying to slow us, not stop us. If I had followed Seward
s orders we
d all be dead now. As it is, I
only bought us a few hours, but they were needed.
Needed for what exactly?
Royce asked.
For darkness. The Dacca can
t see any better at night than we can, and while they take theStorm , we
ll escape. They
ll bring as many of their ships alongside as they can to overwhelm our decks by sheer numbers. When they board us, a party of men I
ve hand-picked will take one of the tartanes.
We
ll cut the ship free and with luck get clear of theStorm before they see us. Iarkness and the confusion of battle, it might work.
They both nodded.
Wyatt motioned to Hadrian.
I want you to lead the boarding party. I
ll signal you from the
quarterdeck.
What are you going to be doing?
Royce asked.
You mean what arewe going to be doing? I didn
t come all this way not to find Allie. You and I will
use the distraction to break into the captain
s quarters and steal any orders or parchments we find.
Just watch me. You
ll know when.
What about the elves below?
Royce asked.
Don
t worry about them. They want the ship whole. In all likelihood, the Dacca will treat them better than the New Empire has.
Who
s in this hand-picked team of yours?
Hadrian asked.
Poe of course, Banner, Grady
All hands on deck!
Temple shouted from above, as drums thundered.
See you above, gentlemen,
Wyatt said while heading for the hold.
The sky was black. Invisible clouds covered the stars and shrouded the sliver of moon. Darkness wrapped the sea, a shadowy abyss where only the froth at the bow revealed the presence of water.
Behind them, Hadrian saw nothing.
Archers to the aft deck!
Hadrian joined the others at the railing where they lined up shoulder to shoulder, looking out across theEmerald Storm
s wake.
Light arrows!
came the order.
From across the water they heard a sound, and a moment later men around Hadrian screamed as arrows pelted the stern.
Fire!
Mister Bishop ordered.
They raised their bows and fired as one, launching their burning shafts blindly into the darkness. A stream of flame flew in a long arch, some dying with a hiss as they fell into the sea, others struck wood, their light outlining a ship about three hundred yards behind them.
There,
Bishop shouted.
There
s your target men!
They exchanged volley after volley. Men fell dead on both ships leaving the ranks of archers thin.
Small fires broke out on the tartane illuminating it and its crew. The Dacca were short, stocky, and lean with coarse long beards and wild hair. The firelight cast them with a demonic glow that glistened off their bare, sweat-soaked skin.
When the tartane lay less than fifty yards astern, its mainmast caught fire and burned like a dead tree. The brilliant light exposed the sea in all directions, and stifled the cheers of theStorm
s crew
when it revealed the positions of the rest of the Dacca fleet. Four ships had already slipped alongside them.
Stand by to repel boarders!
shouted Seward. He drew his sword and waved it over his head as he ran to the safety of the forecastle walls.
Raise the nets!
ordered Bishop. The rigging crew drew up netting on either side of the deck, creating an entangling barrier of rope webbing. Under command of their officers, men took position at the waist deck, cutlasses raised.
Cut the tethers!
Mister Wesley
s voice cried as hooks caught the rail.
The deck shook as the tartanes slammed against theEmerald Storm
s hull. A flood of stocky men
wearing only leather armor and red paint stormed over the side. They screamed in fury as swords met.
Now!
Hadrian heard Wyatt shout at him.
He turned and saw the helmsman pointing to the tartane tethered to theStorm
s port side near the
stern, the first of the Dacca
s ships to reach them. Most of its crew had already boarded theStorm .
Poe, Grady and others in Wyatt
s team held back watching him.
Go!
he shouted, and grabbing hold of the mizzen
s port side brace, cut it free, and swung out across
the gulf, landing on the stern of the tartane.
The stunned Dacca helmsman reached for his short blade as Hadrian cut his throat. Two more Dacca rushed him. Hadrian dodged, using the move to hide the thrust. His broadsword drove deep into the first Dacca
s stomach. The second man, seeing his ce, attacked, but Hadrian
s bastard sword
was in his left hand. With it he deflected a wild swing and drawing the broadsword from the first Dacca
s stomach brought it across, severing the remaining man
s head.
With three bodies on the aft deck, Hadrian looked up to see Poe and the rest already in possession of the ship and in the process of cutting the tethers free. With the last one cut, Poe used a pole and pushed away from theStorm .
What about Royce and Wyatt?
Hadrian asked climbing down to the waist deck.
They
ll swim for it and we
ll pick them up,
Poe explained, as he ran past him heading aft.
But we
need to get into the shadows now!
Poe climbed the short steps to the tartane
s tiny quarterdeck and took hold of the tiller.
Swing the
boom!
he shouted in a whisper.
Trim the sails!
We know our jobs a lot better than you, boy!
Derning hissed at him. He and Grady were already
hauling on the mainsail sheet, trying to tame the canvas that snapped above like a serpent, jangling the rigging rings against the mast.
Banner, Davis! Adjust the headsail for a starboard tack.
Hadrian never learned the ropes and stood by uselessly while the others raced across the deck.
Even if he had picked up anything about rigging, it would not have helped. The Dacca tartane was quite different in design. Besides being smaller, the hull was sloped like a fishing vessel, but with two decks. It had just two sails; a headsail supported on a forward tilting mast and the mainsail.
Both were triangular and hung from long curved yards that crossed the masts at angles so that the vessel
s profile appeared like the heads of two axes cleaving through the air. The deck was dark wood and glancing around, Hadrian wondered if the Dacca stained it with the same blood as the sails. It was an easy conclusion to make after seeing the rigging ornamented with human skulls.
On theStorm , the battle was going badly. At least half the crew lay dead or dying. No canvas was visible as the boarding party made striking the sails a priority. The deck was awash in stocky, half-naked men who circled the forecastle with torches, dodging arrows as they struggled to breech the bulwark.
Poe pushed the tartane
s tiller over, pointing the bow away from theStorm . The wind caught the canvas and the little ship glided gently away. With the sails on theEmerald Storm struck, she was dead in the water and it was easy for them to circle her. Equally small crews remained to operate the other Dacca boarding ships, but that hardly mattered as all eyes were on theStorm . As far as Hadrian could tell, no one noticed them.
I
m bringing her
round,
Poe said.
Hadrian, stand by with that rope there and everyone watch the water for Wyatt and Royce.
Royce?
Derning questioned with distaste.
Why are we picking up the murderer? I can handle the
rigging just fine.
Because Wyatt said so,
Poe replied.
What if we can
t find them? What if they die before they can get off the ship?
Davis asked.
I
ll decide that when it happens,
Poe replied.
You? You
re barmy, boy. I
ll be buggered if I
ll take orders from a little sod like you! Bloody Davis here
s got more years at sea than you and he
s a git if there ever was one. If we don
t find Deminthal
after the first pass, you
ll be taking orders from me.
Like I said,
Poe repeated,
I
ll decide that when it happens.
Derning grinned menacingly, but Hadrian did not think Poe, being at the stern, could have seen it in the darkness.
***
Royce wasted no time hitting the deck at the signal.
We haven
t got long,
Wyatt told him.
The captain
s quarters will be a priority.
He kicked the door open, shattering the frame.
Fully carpeted, the whole rear of the ship was one luxurious suite. Silk patterns in hues of gold and brown covered the walls, with matching upholstered furniture and a silk bedcover. A painting hung on one wall, showing a man bathed in sunlight, his face filled with rapture as a single white feather floated into his upraised hands. Vast stern windows banked the far wall above which silver lanterns swayed. The bed was to one side while a large desk was across from it.
Wyatt scanned the room quickly then moved to the desk. He rifled the drawers.
He
ll have put the
orders in a safe place.
Like a safe?
Royce asked, pulling a window drape aside revealing a small porthole size compartment with a lock.
They always put them behind the drapes.
Can you open it?
Royce smirked. He pulled a tool from his belt and within seconds it was open. Wyatt reached inside, grabbing the entire stack of parchments and stuffing them into a bag.
Let
s get out of here,
he said, making for the door.
Jump off the starboard side. Poe will pick us up.
They came out of the cabin into a world of chaos. Stocky men painted in red poured over the sides of the vessel. Each wielded short broad blades or axes, that cut down everything before them. Only a handful of men stood on the waist deck, the rest had fallen back to the perceived safety of the forecastle. Those that tried to hold their ground died. Royce stepped out on the deck just in time to see Dime, his topsail captain, nearly cut in half by a cleaving blow from a Dacca axe.
Mister Bishop and the other officers were slow in reaching the castle but now, as the Dacca flooded the deck, they were running full out to reach its walls. Stabbed in the back, Lieutenant Green collapsed. As he fell, he reached out, grabbing at anything. His hands found Midshipman Beryl running past and dragged him down as well. Beryl cursed and kicked Green off but got to his feet too late. The Dacca circled him.
Help me!
he cried.
Royce watched as the crew ignored him and ran on
all but one. Midshipman Wesley ran back just in
time to stab the nearest Dacca caught off guard by the sudden change in his fleeing prey. Wielding his sword with both hands, Wesley sliced horizontally across the chest of the next brute and kicked him aside.
Beryl! This way, run!
he shouted.
Beryl lashed out at the Dacca then ran to Wesley. Quickly surrounded, the Dacca drove them farther and farther away from the forecastle. An arrow from the walls saved Wesley from decapitation as the two struggled to defend themselves. Pushed by the overwhelming numbers, they retreated until their backs hit the rail.
A Dacca blade slashed Beryl
s arm and then across his hip. He screamed, dropping his sword.
Wesley threw himself between Beryl and his attacker. The young midshipman slashed wildly struggling to defend the older man. Then Wesley was hit. He stumbled backward, reached out for the netting chains, but missed and fell overboard. Alone and unarmed, the Dacca swarmed Beryl, who screamed until they sent his head from his body.
No one noticed Wyatt or Royce creeping in the shadows around the stern seeking a clear place to jump. They crouched just above the captain
s cabin windows. Royce was about to leap when he
spotted Thranic step out from the hold. The sentinel exited, a torch in hand, as if he merely wondered what all the noise was about. He led the seret to the main deck where they quickly formed a wall around the sentinel. Seeing reinforcements, the Dacca rallied to an attack. They charged, only to die upon the seret swords. The Knights of Nyphron were neither sailors nor galley slaves. They knew the use of arms and how to hold formation.
Holding his bag to his chest, Wyatt leapt from the ship.
Royce!
Wyatt shouted from the sea below.
Royce watched, impressed by the knight
s courage and skill as they battled the Dacca. It looked as if they might just turn the tide. Then, Thranic threw his flaming brand into the ship
s hold. A rush of
air sounded as if the sip were inhaling a great breath. A roar followed. A deep, resonating growl shook the timber beneath Royce
s feet. Tongues of flame licked out of every hatch and porthole, the air filling with screams and cries. And in the flicking glow of burning wood and flesh, Royce saw the sentinel smile.
***
Hadrian and the tiny crew of the stolen Dacca ship had only just reached the starboard side of theStorm when the area grew bright. TheEmerald Storm was ablaze. Within little more than a minute, the fire had enveloped the deck. Men in the rigging had no choice but to jump. From that height, their bodies hit the water with a cracking sound. The rigging ignited, ropes snapped, and yards broke free falling like flaming tree trunks. The darkness of the starless sea fell away as theEmerald Storm became a floating bonfire. Those near the rail leapt into the sea. Screams, cries and the crackle and hiss of fire filled the night.
Looking over the black water, whose surface was alive with wild reflections, Hadrian spied a bit of sandy hair and a dark uniform.
Mister Wesley, grab on!
Hadrian called, grabbing a rope and
throwing it.
Like a man in a dream, Wesley turned at the sound of his name. He looked at the tartane with confusion in his eyes until he spotted Hadrian reaching out. He grabbed the rope thrown and was reeled in like a fish and hoisted on deck.
Nice to have you aboard, sir,
Hadrian told him.
Wesley gasped for air and rolled over, vomiting seawater.
From that, I assume you
re happy to be here.
Wyatt!
Poe shouted.
Royce!
Hadrian called.
Over there!
Derning said, pointing.
Poe turned the tiller and they sailed toward the sound of splashing.
It
s Bernie and Staul,
Grady announced from where he stood on the bow.
The two wasted no time scrambling up the ship
s ropes.
More splashing over there!