“Grab her!” Axe’s voice called out.
The unhappy people rose to their feet, their hands going to their waists and withdrawing blades of varying lengths.
Reecah swallowed. She had no choice. She had to run back toward the Naughty Saucer.
Jumping crates and skirting around beached skiffs in various states of disrepair, Reecah ran up the thin strip of sand, doing her best to avoid the waves lapping the shoreline.
Passing the next alleyway, a shout went up. Two guardsmen burst from the dark lane but she was already beyond them. As hard as the sand was for her to run in, it quickly became apparent that it was even tougher for the heavily armoured men chasing her.
She was forced to jump up onto and over wooden walkways extending from the back of the warehouses; the wooden spans bridging the gap between the buildings and ramshackle jetties undulating in the stormy surf. Her thigh muscles screamed at her as she vaulted the countless walkways. She needed to get back to the street.
Turning into the next alley, she stopped to catch her breath, taking time to secure the second sword belt around her waist, before looking back the way she had come. Though her pursuers could be heard clomping over the walkways, nobody was visible in the persistent drizzle.
Scampering up the alley, she paused at its far end. Uneven cobblestones greeted her and the occasional lantern tree flickered uselessly in the gloom.
Taking a deep breath, she stepped onto the street, hugging the warehouse facades as best as she could while dodging piles of debris stacked in front of the buildings.
The cobblestone pavers levelled out as the Naughty Saucer came into view. She stopped. A throng of men and women were gathered outside the brothel, listening to the tale of the doorman.
Backtracking to the last alleyway she had passed, Reecah made her way to the shoreline. A quick glance told her those following were getting closer. Not caring whether they spotted her or not, she sprinted up over the rock-littered sand, distancing herself from those intent on capturing her. At one point, she heard Raver call out but couldn’t locate him.
The sand gave way to jumbled rock as she approached the spot where the fjord met the sea—the footings of the Naughty Saucer mired amongst the beginning of the break wall jutting into the fjord. Scrambling over the rocks, some bigger than her small cabin back home, she made her way up the fjord—thankful to reach the wooden platforms extending over the shoreline from the rear of the more affluent warehouses and shipyards.
The clanking of metal on rock reached her from the break wall. The pursuit was relentless.
She picked up her pace but a commotion ahead made her crouch behind a tangle of smelly fishnets piled atop broken crates and open barrels. Shivering in the rain, Reecah crept around the debris until she spotted three bearded men in chainmail surrounding a muscular, redheaded woman—the biggest man pinning the woman against a wall.
Reecah recalled the gruff redhead from yesterday. A sailor had called her Cahira. The way Cahira had been with Reecah, it didn’t surprise her that the rude woman had run afoul of the Watch.
Careful not to draw the men’s attention, Reecah soft-stepped through the shadows and ducked into the alley separating her from the building they held the dockhand against. Relieved not to be noticed, Reecah paused to catch her breath. It wouldn’t be long before those chasing her alerted everyone along the dockside of her whereabouts. She needed a place to hide.
Adjusting the sword belt she had gotten back from Tarrek, she couldn’t help overhearing Cahira.
“Unhand me, you fool, or I’ll gut you. You got the wrong person!”
The wet smack of a loud slap made Reecah cringe.
“I ought to run you through right here,” a deep voice growled. “Threaten me again and I’ll forget you’re a lady.”
“Pfft,” another voice chimed in. “You call that a lady. I’d as soon bed your wife as this seadog.”
A third voice started to laugh but the original speaker interrupted.
Reecah dared to peek around the corner.
“Watch your mouth, or I’ll run you through next,” the man pinning Cahira snarled.
Cahira, her stomach bared beneath her tied off tunic, wriggled in the man’s grasp until he pulled her away from the wall and slammed her back into it, bouncing her head off the wood. “Were you, or were you not, with the baron tonight?”
Instead of answering, Cahira spat in the man’s face and received a punch in the stomach for her troubles.
“Come on, she don’t match the description of the one we’re after,” the smallest man said. “For all we know, they’ve already caught her.”
“She’s scantily dressed,” the man pinning Cahira replied as if that were justification to beat her.
“She’s a dock rat. They never wear much.”
Reecah’s eyes widened. Cahira hadn’t done anything wrong. She was getting worked over because the guardsmen were searching for her.
The man holding Cahira pulled a dagger from his belt and held it under her chin. “Ya, well, she’s gonna answer for spitting in me face.” He nodded his large head, his crazed eyes locking on Cahira’s. “They’ll be fishing what’s left of you off the rocks come morning.”
Reecah loaded her bow and stepped free of the alley. “I’m the one you’re looking for.”
All heads turned—all except Cahira’s. The redhead took the opportunity to smash her forehead into the side of her captor’s face.
In pain, the man released her in time to receive a hard-swung knee to the groin that doubled him over.
The smallest man unsheathed a short sword but his blade clattered off the wooden decking as Reecah’s arrow took him above the heart. He collapsed with a groan.
The largest man fell on top of him, bleeding profusely from a large gash in his neck.
Reecah’s eyes met Cahira’s wild stare—a curved, filleting knife in the redhead’s grasp. Together they turned their attention on the last guard.
The man raised empty hands in the air.
Before Reecah had another arrow nocked, Cahira attacked, stabbing and kicking the guard until he tumbled lifeless into the water.
Reecah brought her arrow to bear on Cahira’s heaving chest, afraid to become the enraged woman’s next target.
Cahira pointed her knife. “You! You’re the one they’re after?”
Reecah didn’t know what to say. She didn’t want to admit it to a stranger but in her heart, she couldn’t deny the accusation. Even so, she didn’t feel guilty—not for the way she had dealt with the baron. The lecherous boor deserved everything he had received.
She did, however, feel responsible for Cahira’s torment. Judging by the bruise below her ribs and the blood smear on the side of her face, the men had roughed Cahira up pretty good before she had intervened.
Cahira kicked the large man in the ribs. “Look at the mess I’m in! I had nothing to do with whatever you did to the baron, but I’m in for it now. These are his personal guards.”
Reecah lowered her bow. “I’m sorry. The baron attacked me. He wanted me to…to…” She couldn’t say it.
Looking around with dread, she knew if she remained there much longer, she would be caught. “Anyway, I gotta go before they catch me.”
Cahira’s intense stare bore into her. Still waggling the knife with the nasty curve, she said with a gruff voice, “Come with me.”
Reecah frowned, peering down the alley and searching the way she had come. If she continued running into Thunderhead, it would only be a matter of time before she was surrounded. She was running out of options.
“Look, bitch, if you want to live, I’m your only hope.”
Reecah swallowed at the strange offer of assistance.
Cahira scrunched up her face, not too concerned about the blood washing off her face in the rain. “Whatever. Let them catch you.”
Cahira wrapped her hands around the larger man’s ankles and dragged him off the smaller guard—the muscles in her arms bulging.
Reecah was impressed how easily Cahira manhandled the large guard—rolling him to the edge of the dock and pushing him over the edge. His waist and legs splashed in the water, but his head and shoulders fell short—smacking off the sharp rock along the shore.
Reecah winced, hoping he was already dead. His lower body pulled his upper torso into the water—quickly sinking out of sight.
The smaller man lay on his back; lifeless eyes open to the rain. Cahira dragged him to the edge and prepared to drop him after his mates.
“Wait!” Reecah ran over. “My arrow.”
Cahira glanced at her. Without a word, the redhead put a boot on the man’s chest and tugged at the arrow—its head catching in the tear it had made in the guard’s chainmail. Wiggling it free, she inspected it. “Hmph,” was all she said as she handed it, fletches first, to Reecah—not caring that she handled the bloody end.
Reecah stopped to wipe the arrow on the man’s breeches, straightening up as Cahira drove a boot into his groin and urged him over the edge. Before he hit the water, Cahira walked away.
Reecah replaced the arrow in her quiver and searched through the darkness for somewhere to flee. She had never felt as alone as she did at that moment, except perhaps that night sitting against the village temple, witnessing Grimelda’s Clutch burn.
Should the baron’s guard or the city Watch catch her, she would be lucky if they killed her on the spot. If the baron survived, she dreaded the punishment he would exact on her. She’d be better off dead. She gritted her teeth. All because of Tarrek and his scoundrels.
She thought of Lurker and the other dragons. They faced a more serious life and death struggle. One of extinction. If her great-aunt was to be believed, the dragons’ fate was in her hands. She shook her head. She didn’t have time to die.
Cahira’s broad shoulders swaggered, disappearing into the gloomy night.
Jumping into a run, Reecah whistled for Raver and called out in a harsh whisper, “Cahira. Wait.”
It was hard to believe that her life lay in the hands of the gruff, redheaded woman. The same woman who had only yesterday threatened to kill Reecah if they ever crossed paths again.
Serpent’s Slip
J’kaar’s black galleon rode the waves like a dolphin, her golden kraken bowsprit barely dipping in the calm waters off the Great Kingdom’s western coast.
Those aboard the Serpent’s Slip, the ones who weren’t on duty, lined the port rail, waving as the high king’s flagship, Reef Raider, sailed past.
Reecah fretted she had missed the king by a day. His ship sailed south while she sailed north. She briefly thought about jumping into the ocean and swimming to shore. Had she been a strong swimmer, she reckoned she would have. As it was, she’d have to endure the voyage north and wait for the king’s return. Not wanting to attract undue attention, she waved along with everyone else, trying to figure out why the colours of the king’s ship bothered her.
According to the sun’s position, hidden behind a layer of breaking cloud cover, it was shortly before midday. Looking to the rigging, she spied Raver perched high on the moonsail yard arm—the topmost, square sail on the central mast.
After her encounter last night with Cahira, the dockhand had led her to the Serpent’s Slip and snuck her on board—hiding Reecah in her cabin until dawn.
Daybreak had come much too quickly for Reecah’s liking. It had felt as if she had just fallen asleep, cramped and shivering on the floor beside Cahira’s cot, when the redhead’s gruff voice startled her awake.
Together, they had paid a visit to Captain Dreyger K’tric’s cabin before he came on deck to supervise casting off. Captain Dreyger was the same rotund man on the ship’s railing Reecah remembered from the day before. Though Reecah hadn’t seen many real ship captains in her life—Fishmonger Bay didn’t have the capacity to properly accommodate a large boat—Dreyger’s slovenly appearance didn’t strike her as what a true captain would look like. He didn’t have the appearance of a leader. Jonas Waverunner wasn’t the best kept man either, but his mean demeanour had more than made up for his lack of professionalism.
Captain Dreyger, at first glance, with unkempt wisps of black hair poorly attempting to cover the wide expanse of baldness upon his spherical head, gave Reecah the impression of a bumbling alcoholic. In a roundabout way, he reminded her of the baron—his purple-veined nose and ample girth had given Reecah the shivers as a result, but that was thankfully where the comparison ended.
His face had turned a darker shade of red when Cahira first introduced Reecah. He had jumped to his feet and vehemently demanded she leave his ship at once, spitting and sputtering his displeasure at housing a fugitive from Thunderhead. The last thing he needed was to be found out offering refuge to someone wanted by the baron himself.
Reecah explained why she had been forced to do the things she had, but Dreyger would have none of it until Cahira explained how Reecah had stepped in on her behalf to save her from the baron’s men.
Captain Dreyger’s dour expression had gone through a remarkable transition; from one of utter contempt to one of gratitude.
Flabbergasted, Reecah was not only welcome aboard the Serpent’s Slip, but the captain had treated her as an honoured guest.
Sighing at how things had turned out, Reecah returned her attention to the king’s galleon. The sleek ship cut through the ocean swells as if they weren’t there, leaving a widening wake as it sailed toward the southern horizon.
Reecah stepped away from the rail, the roll of the Serpent’s Slip causing her to support herself with a wide stance, riding out the pitched deck until the brig righted itself in the next trough.
The deckhands around her carried on as if they walked on dry land, going about their business now that the commotion of the king’s ship had passed.
“Fishmonger Bay, ho!” A sailor stationed in the foremast crow’s nest announced.
Reecah hurried to the far side of the ship—bracing herself against the polished rail. Sure enough, the rickety, old jetty protruding from the front of the Waverunner warehouse was visible off the starboard bow. No one on the Serpent’s Slip seemed to care.
Watching the familiar shoreline pass by, she experienced a twinge of homesickness—the slopes behind the village a tapestry of spectacular colour in the autumn sunshine. It wouldn’t be long before the lower forest dropped its leaves.
She stared hard at the steep bluff on the northern edge of the village, trying to see her cabin but couldn’t. Had they sailed a fortnight later, it would have been visible beyond the bare branches.
Goosebumps washed across her cheeks—partially due to the cool wind generated by the Serpent’s Slip’s passing, but more to the fact that up until a few weeks ago, Reecah’s entire existence had taken place on the slopes drifting by.
The dark rock promontory jutting high above the sea passed directly before her. The Summoning Stone. Her childhood haunt. A place she had loved visiting with Poppa.
Standing by herself, alone amongst a ship full of strangers, Reecah fought to keep her tears hidden. Fishmonger Bay instilled her with so many bad memories. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, hoping nobody noticed.
There were good memories too, but the days she had spent with Poppa had blurred into nothing more than a fleeting happiness. A day on a hillside, and the day he had given her the crimson gemstone that had fused itself into her diary were the only ones she could recall anymore.
She grunted. Some gift the diary had turned out to be. The pages wouldn’t accept ink or lead—the magic in the parchment somehow attuned to the dragons themselves. It was little use to her now that her dragon friends had accepted her into their circle of trust.
Nevertheless, her distant gaze lingered on the horizon where she had last seen the Summoning Stone, long after it disappeared from view. How many times had she secretly ventured up there, afraid Grammy would find out? She stifled an ironic laugh. According to Grammy on her death bed, the old woman had known all along. Reecah
shook her head. To this day she had no idea where the bizarre rock formation had gotten its name.
“Somethin’ special about that pig’s wallow?”
Cahira’s gruff voice snapped Reecah’s mind back to the deck of the Serpent’s Slip as it plied through the waves on a northeast tack around the rugged shores of the duchy of Svelte.
Cahira sat with her back against a large, net covered crate along the rail, chewing on a piece of wood.
Reecah knew at once that Cahira had spotted her poor attempt at masking her tears. She shrugged and looked away. “Not really.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Reecah watched the muscular woman get to her feet and walk toward her. She stiffened. As much as she was grateful for Cahira securing her passage on a ship bound for the port city of Sea Keep—the capital of the Great Kingdom—she wasn’t in the mood for her brooding company.
Cahira settled against the rail, her coarse, red hair blowing against Reecah’s cheek. “What’s with the tears. Ye be missing Thunderhead?”
Cahira’s words startled her. She flashed a shocked look at the tough woman.
Cahira gave her a sarcastic smirk.
“Ah. Ha-ha. Uh, no. If I never go back there it’ll be too soon, thanks.”
“Then what? Come on, GG. Ya owe me. It’s the least ya can do seein’ I saved yer hide.”
The woman’s sudden interest unsettled Reecah. “Really, it’s nothing. Just been a long couple of days.”
She could tell by how Cahira looked at her that she didn’t believe her, but thankfully Cahira let it be.
They stood shoulder to shoulder, lost in their own thoughts as the mountainous coastline passed by—occasionally feeling the mist whenever the bow dug deep into a wave.
Reecah realized she was grateful for the woman’s quiet company. Cahira’s presence made her feel welcome even though she sensed the crew weren’t sold on her being onboard. Not taking her eyes from the coastline, she muttered, “I’m thinking it was me who saved your sorry hide first.”
Legends of the Lurker Box Set Page 34