Of Sea and Song

by Chanda Hahn

  I made the mistake of looking down, and my fingers locked up painfully.

  “It’s just a little farther,” he coaxed.

  When I didn’t move, his hand grasped the fabric of my dress and pulled me after him. The terror subsided as I focused on taking one step in front of the other. Then Brennon disappeared around the corner of the building. When I followed, I saw he turned onto the west wing side and was working on breaking in another window. When it didn’t give. He used his elbow to break the glass and reached through to unlock the window and pull it open. His lithe body disappeared into the dark interior.

  I stared at the window and then down at the ground below. It was only two stories. I could make it if I jumped. It was either that or follow the stranger into the dark. I was about to make the leap, when he reached back out the window and dragged me inside after him.

  I yelped as he caught me up in his arms, my feet dangling below me. His rough hand covered my mouth.

  “Shhh,” Brennon whispered. “We wouldn’t want to get caught now. After all, this is just starting to get fun.” His eyes twinkled with mirth.

  I glared at him. How dare he think this is fun, and at my expense? I wiggled in protest and pushed at his chest.

  He sucked in a quick breath. I stilled as his grip tightened around my waist.

  Brennon smelled of cedar, bergamot, and outdoors, which was probably just the scent of his still damp cloak. My body pressed into his muscled chest as he slowly released me inch by inch. His eyes narrowed as he focused on my parted lips. He was hesitant to release me. When my feet found purchase on the wood floor, I put a few feet of distance between us. My heart was racing in my chest at our close contact.

  Brennon moved to the door, pressed his ear to it, and listened. His hood had fallen back, and I studied my rescuer from afar. His shoulders were wide and muscled, and he had a narrow waist. His skin was tan, and his disheveled blond hair was bleached by hours in the sun. A single aquamarine stone decorated his right earlobe.

  “Let’s go.” He opened the door. I stood there unmoving, hesitant to go out into the hall.

  He frowned and beckoned, and I still refused to go closer.

  In the blink of an eye, Brennon was at my side, lifting me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, his shoulder jabbing into my stomach painfully.

  “If I didn’t know better, I would think you want to get caught by those bounty hunters,” he said.

  Bounty hunters. I should have known they would stalk the waystations, waiting for runaways to come right to them. Brennon flew down the stairs with me over his shoulder, each step causing a painful jab that knocked the breath out of me. He went through the kitchens, out the side door, and tossed me into a wagon loaded with... potatoes.

  “Oomph!” I cried as he threw a canvas tarp over me and climbed into the driver seat. He picked up the reins, and with a cry and a flick of the whip, the two horses took off. I bounced around in the back, the potatoes rolling over and on top of me. But I didn’t care. I was too scared to remove the canvas or look out as Brennon continued to drive the wagon at a breakneck speed.

  After I was sure we had driven far enough to have lost them, he didn’t slow down. I pulled the canvas back, grabbed a potato, and lobbed it at his head.

  Thunk!

  “Ouch! What was that for?” He glared at me over his shoulder.

  “Stop the wagon,” I demanded.

  “Not until we’re safe. That was the Brunes Guild. They will have every available tracker after you. If you even left so much as a piece of hair or article of clothing at the waystation, your fate will be sealed.”

  My hand reached for my bag, and I groaned. It was gone.

  Brennon saw my unease. “What did you leave behind?” he asked.

  “My bag.”

  He cursed under his breath. “Then it’s not a matter of if they find you, but when. We have no time to lose.” He spurred the horses on faster.

  I tumbled backward into the potato cart. Gah! I hate potatoes. I couldn’t understand why the stranger was helping me. I wasn’t nice to him. In fact, I was purposely downright rude. The only reason he would help me was if he wanted something from me. No, not from me. Me. He wanted the bounty on me for himself.

  This time, it was my turn to inwardly groan. Another storm system moved in, and the sun set prematurely as the inky clouds hid it. I pulled the canvas back over myself and hunkered down in the wagon as I tried to plan my escape. There wasn’t any choice. I would have to jump. But leaping from a speeding wagon didn’t thrill me. I could end up with broken bones, or worse, a broken neck.

  The path narrowed and the woods became thicker. I heard water and looked up at the oncoming river.

  This is my chance. Brennon slowed the wagon down as he forded the river. The water was only a foot deep at first, but then it became deeper. I slid to the back of the open-ended wagon and hung my feet off. I only had a few seconds before the horses pulled to the shallower end and picked up speed again. I took a blue ribbon I had used to tie back my hair and tucked it farther under a sack of potatoes. Laying down a fake trail of personal items seemed like a good way to confuse the Brunes Guild.

  Lowering myself off the back, I let my legs drag into the water. I held back the gasp and on the count of three slid out the back. The water pulled me downstream, and the wagon reached the other side of the embankment. Seconds later, it was out of the riverbed and back up at a run. I watched as Brennon didn’t look back but kept driving.

  I had mixed feelings at seeing him ride away. Part guilt and part relief filled me, but I quickly pushed them aside as I tried to swim toward the river’s edge. The current was too strong and pulled me farther downstream.

  I was unprepared for the wrath of the river as it flung me about. I swallowed mouthfuls of water and was chilled to the core when it turned at a bend, and I floated past a downed tree.

  With numbed hands, I grasped a limb and was about to pull myself out of the river when I heard men’s voices. They were shouting, and the sound of running horses drew nearer to me. Using the dead branches as a shield, I swam under the canopy of the leaves and popped up between the foliage, keeping everything but my eyes and nose submerged.

  “Here! This is where we lost her.” It was one of the three bounty hunters from the waystation. He was the one who threw the knife and missed. A second man rode up, his hood covering his face. The tattoos on his arms were visible as he held up a glowing green stone in one hand and a small compact in the other.

  A sorcerer.

  I swallowed in anger. He was tracking me using my mirror.

  “The water is disrupting the tracking spell,” the sorcerer murmured. “She must have crossed the river. We will pick up her trail on the other side.”

  “I’m surprised the woman is giving us this much trouble. We should have caught her by now,” the knife thrower grumbled.

  “We’ll catch her. I won’t let this particular bounty get away.”

  I hadn’t looked at the poster to even see a bounty. How much could the mayor’s family put up? Surely, it must’ve been a mistake. But no. The way the hunters were carrying on, there was more to this bounty on my head than I originally thought.

  It was a battle to keep my teeth from chattering loudly and giving away my position.

  “Hey, I found fresh wagon tracks. She must have gone this way. Your stone is glowing again,” a third man farther up the riverbank called out. The other two spurred their horses, and the chase was back on. I felt bad that the men would be after Brennon because I left my ribbon in his wagon. And as long as I stayed in the water, they wouldn’t be able to track me.

  I waited in the freezing water as long as I could before pulling myself out to the edge. It was too dangerous to stray from the river, so it forced me to walk in the water until my frozen feet could carry me no more.

  Chapter Five

  The Brunes Guild returned. They must have picked up my trail again and followed it back to the river. Each time th
ey drew close, I quickly sought shelter in the rushing water and hid in brush to barely evade capture. But I couldn’t hide forever. As Brennon said, they would eventually find me. When the coast was clear and the sound of horses faded, I left my hiding place in the water. Boots in hand, I continued to walk along the stony riverbed. A permanent chill settled into my bones, and my feet were numb. I needed to get dry clothes and find a way to avoid the Brunes Guild permanently.

  My trek along the river’s edge brought me to a water mill, yet it wasn’t the mill that grabbed my attention but the farmhouse not far away and the line of dry clothes that hung unattended.

  Not just any clothes. Boy’s clothes.

  A plan formed in my head as a smile spread across my face. Leaving the water, I dragged my frozen body toward the line and began grabbing handfuls of clothes before making my way to the mill. The door was unbarred, so I slipped inside, where my body was surrounded by warmth. Inside, the grinding stone was still; the water had been diverted away from the chutes.

  I picked up a set of shears from a worktable filled with empty flour sacks and thread. I made quick work of cutting the flour sack into strips. I shed my chemise and used the strips to bind my chest, hiding the fact that I was a woman. The brown pants and overly large gray shirt hid my curves, and the black button-up vest disguised my breasts.

  On the floor was a discarded gray knit cap, and I claimed it and tried to stuff my waist-long hair beneath it. My locks were too full, turning the knit cap into a cone. I looked like a gnome. This wouldn’t do.

  With a dejected sigh. I gripped the scissors in one hand and took handfuls of my red hair. It would have to go. But I couldn’t bring myself to shear it all off. I carefully worked with the metal blades and clumsily chopped it off to shoulder length. My head felt lighter than it had in years and easily fit under the cap.

  Being careful to clean up my mess, I braided my discarded hair into six thick ropes and shoved them into an empty sack filled with my boots, sack bindings, and an extra shirt. I took a second flour sack and put my wet and discarded chemise and dress inside. I couldn’t leave something so personal behind to be found.

  Minutes later, I filled the sack with river stones and was careful to toss it into the middle of the river, where it slowly sunk to the bottom.

  I headed off with renewed vigor. The current became stronger, and I had to leave the water as it widened and passed under a stone bridge. Leaving the river’s edge, I sat on the bridge and quickly put on my stockings and leather boots. I frowned as I studied them, thankful for once for my mother’s no-nonsense style. My boots could easily pass for a child’s. In fact, when I passed a darkened window, I couldn’t believe my luck. I smudged a handful of dirt on my cheeks and nose and knew with my petite height and stature I could pass for a boy of twelve, maybe thirteen.

  But the growling of my stomach would be my downfall. I lurked outside a tavern’s side door and found it was mostly empty. The town bell had rung out a candle mark ago, so I knew it had to be after midnight.

  The barkeep and one elderly server were the only ones left; the rest of the staff must have retired for the night. A table in the corner was full of men who were still eating and drinking. I found my mark in a darkened corner. A bearded man, passed out drunk, his head at an awkward angle on his arm. His mouth cocked open, and a low rumble of snores fell from his lips. The bread from his dinner was left unattended on the plate next to him.

  Keeping my head low, I snuck in and grabbed it and ducked under a table to eat my stolen prize, being careful to keep from bumping his knees and awaking the man.

  My eagle eyes warily scrutinized the men at the far table. For all I knew, they could be more bounty hunters. But after a few minutes of listening in, I discovered that was not the case. They were sailors on their last night ashore.

  “Aye, I’m not looking forward to this next journey.” A sailor with cynical eyes and a mustache tapped his pipe before pointing it at the man across from him. “It was a fool’s errand to come here. We’re no closer to finding answers.”

  “Captain Pike is nigh a fool, Randall.” A white-haired man in a mop cap slammed his fist down on the table. “Just desperate. He’s running out of time.”

  “Aye, Howland, that be true, but I’ve never seen a man more possessed than our captain with finding the missing treasure from the Undersea. You have to wonder if he be right in the head.”

  “Right or not, he scared off young Caleb with the tongue lashing he got tonight.” The younger sailor with a mess of auburn curls laughed.

  “That’s because when the captain boarded, he was already in a foul mood, and Caleb dropped his dinner… on the captain’s lap!” Randall answered, his laughter filling the tavern. “The cabin boy’s not coming back. Saw him tuck tail and run as soon after.”

  “Great, now I got no help in the galley,” Howland swore under his breath. “I’m getting too old for this. Look at me.” He held up swollen and arthritic hands. “They can barely hold a knife. How am I supposed to peel potatoes?”

  “With yer toes.” The young sailor cackled.

  “Knock off, Jessup!” Howland made a playful swipe at his mate.

  “Last call, gents,” an elderly server warned them softly. She plucked up the empty tankards and waited for any more orders.

  “No thanks, mistress, we be off in a few hours. We should probably get back to the Bella Donna before the captain sends Thorn after us,” Howland answered.

  “Doubt it.” Jessup snickered. “He’s still in his cabin, nursing that burn he got.”

  “What can I say?” Howland muttered. “I serve my soup hot.” The men slowly stood, stretched, and made their way for the door. I left my hiding spot and followed the one called Howland but kept my distance.

  The men headed through town toward the docks. Randall and Jessup took the lead. Howland with his arthritic and bowed legs lagged behind. I thought I had done a reasonable job at hiding until he spun around and knocked me to the ground. A glint of a metal flashed in his hand as something pressed against my throat.

  “Why are ye following me?” he snarled.

  I blinked in surprise and tried to gather my wits about me. “I heard you might be in need of a new cabin boy.” I kept my voice low to disguise my feminine register.

  Howland’s white, bushy eyebrows lowered as he studied me sprawled on the ground. “Where’s your parents?” he asked.

  “Gone,” I said. Which was partially true. Mother was gone from our home at the present.

  “That’s too bad. Why ye want to be a cabin boy? The pay is low, and it’s backbreaking work.”

  “I’m stronger than I look.”

  “Then ye be running from something.” He pulled away, and I saw that what I thought was a dagger was actually a spoon. Howland had taken me down with a dull utensil. I was mortified.

  “Isn’t everyone?” I sat up and shrugged, hoping to look as pathetic as I felt. “I mean, we’re all trying to avoid our past.”

  Howland rubbed the back of his neck. “Aw heck, yer right. I do need the help.” He reached down with his hand and helped me to my feet.

  My hands reached up to adjust my cap and make sure my hair was still covered.

  “Captain Pike is hard but fair. The Bella Donna sails at first light. Don’t be late.”

  “Thank you!” I exclaimed and quickly tried to hide my exuberance.

  “Go and get your things and say your goodbyes to anyone who means anything to you. It will be awhile before we return to Fairehaven Port.”

  I nodded. Howland turned and headed through the darkened streets toward the docks.

  Loud voices echoed from behind me, and I turned in fear. Horse hooves clattered on the stone, and the torchlights flickered on the buildings as they headed my direction. The hunters had arrived like I knew they eventually would. I strayed too far from a moving water source.

  Unwilling to give up this easily, I turned toward the docks, hoping to make it to the ocean. But I didn’t wan
t Howland to see a bunch of people chasing me. A quick glance over my shoulder told me I would never make it. They were about to crest the hill by the tavern, and when they did, they would have a full view of the city street and me.

  Shaking my head and groaning at my predicament, I slowed my steps and stepped into a watering trough, the chill of the water making my skin crawl. I sat down and had to hold back an audible gasp. Taking a deep breath, I submerged my head and waited.

  A few seconds later, they passed me.

  It was odd to open my eyes and watch the blurred reflection of the riders in black and their horses ride by. I saw the golden flame of the torch pass and the soft ethereal glow of the stone. Then it was dark again.

  I stayed still until my lungs burned from lack of oxygen, and finally when I could take it no more, I sat up. Water dripped down my face, having thoroughly soaked my knit cap.

  “This will get annoying quick,” I muttered to myself. I stepped out of the watering trough and tried the best I could to wring out my clothes.

  Dripping wet and alone in the middle of the cobbled street, I suddenly felt vulnerable and out in the open. Sunrise was still hours away, and I worried about staying hidden until then. Where was I going to hide until the ship set sail?

  I turned to the right down a side street and reached into the sack for a braided band of my hair. Clutching the braid, I pivoted, and with a mighty throw, I tossed it onto the roof of what looked like a very large inn.

  I grinned and continued to run down the street. Taking shelter in a darkened doorway, I watched as the bounty hunters circled back around, led by the man with the seeker stone. It grew brighter when he approached the inn, and so did his greedy smile.

  “She’s here, boys.”

  A second man pounded on the door, and after a lengthy pause, a sleepy innkeeper answered it.

  “We have a writ that allows us to search the premises for a fugitive.” The bounty hunter flung a yellowed paper in front of the innkeeper’s nose.