by Jackson Lear
I raised mine. Others did the same.
“And everyone who has been visited by ghosts while onboard this ship, raise your hand.”
About three quarters of those who had drunk blood wine kept their hands up.
“Raise your hand if you have not drunk blood wine and if you have seen a ghost onboard.”
No one raised a hand.
“There. I don’t care if you see your mother, father, brother, father, sister, aunt, uncle … anyone. It’s not them. It’s the witch. Tell her to shut the fuck up and let’s not bother anyone until we reach landfall again, okay? Okay.”
Alysia blinked back at me. “Is yours still there?”
My father stood before me, babbling an apology.
“No,” I said. “You should try to sleep.”
“So should you.”
“I will.”
Alysia did her best to nestle into a comfortable position while lying on thick wooden blanks.
I rolled the coin across my knuckles. My father sneered at me. “She’s going to leave you, you know?”
Zara came up from below. Sat down next to me. Extended her legs and tried to fight off the shivering cold. She was as wide awake as I was. And as silent.
There we were, Kasera’s vanguard mingling with Agnarr’s crew, having just escaped a northern fortress and now sailing across the Dead Lake with nothing to do but wait until we reached Faersrock.
My father kept taunting me. Reminding me that I was supposed to die on a black shore.
I pocketed the coin. Decided it was a fine time to clean my blade. My father drifted away, no doubt heading off to bother someone else. Zara, maybe.
I’d like to say that I remembered exactly how my blade came into my possession but for the life of me I can’t remember. A long while ago I emerged from a hangover that likely sapped a couple of years from my life expectancy. I had one eye swollen shut. Dull ringing in both ears made the voices of everyone around me sound the same. The blade was strapped to my back in its sheath. I kept quiet about it in case the owner came looking for it. They never did. We returned to Erast amid stories of utter lunacy and bullshit. Stomp was known for his exaggerations, Greaser was known for being subdued, yet they both laid claim to the ballsiest heist we had ever survived. We all had gear we couldn’t quite place. Lieutenant came within inches of having his own enchanted longsword – lighter and more graceful than his regular one – only for the whole armory to collapse in front of us.
Since then my blade had shrunk an inch in length from repeated sharpenings. Its handle had been shattered more times than my ego and glued back together just as often. I kept it not just for sentimental reasons but because it marked a forward step for me as a young man. I was a whirlwind of fury when I first joined the Governor’s Hand and I was positively thirsty to learn each and every weapon; smartassary included, it would seem. We had a variety of weapons to specialize in; longswords, short swords, clubs, hammers, javelins, spears, daggers, axes, chain whips, bows … everything. You tend to gravitate towards one more than the others. I went for the shorter end of the spectrum – forcing me to get in close to my target. I proclaimed often and loudly at fifteen that I was a man. I had a job, I had been blind stinkingly drunk, I had been in a fight and survived, I had been caught by the city watch and kept my mouth shut, and probably most important to any fifteen year old: I had gotten laid. It was paid for and downright terrifying, but it came from my own money. Our old captain gave me a congratulations, then snorted when I told him it wasn’t my first time. He knew otherwise. They all did.
Getting this blade is when I’m convinced I actually became a man. I must’ve picked it up, knew it didn’t belong to me, but decided that I was going to keep it instead of offering it to the company’s takings. This is mine and fuck you I’m keeping it. Prior to that the captain would’ve forced me to hand it over. But he didn’t this time. Something had changed in me and he knew it.
A split was forming along the upper edge. A few months ago a man the size of an ogre wrenched my blade from the underside of his foot and slammed it against the ground. I had done my best to seal it and fix it but I was already cautious of using it if I didn’t have to. I sheathed it with care. Folded my arms across my chest. Stared back at the shimmering spectral version of Día kneeling in front of me, on the verge of tears. Her arms were spread weakly towards me. Her wrists had been slashed with a knife and dripped with blood. Her lips trembled as she refused to cry.
We hit a wave, bouncing us awake. The crew jolted – ready to man the oars and sails – then slowly eased back to sleep.
Día pulled her arms against her chest. Crawled forward into the space between Alysia and me, curled herself into a ball, and remained quiet.
I don’t know what tempted me to try and stroke her hair. Exhaustion, probably. My hand fell through the air and landed on the wooden floor below. Zara glanced over, scorn washing over her.
Día slipped into a satisfied smile, one that consumed her features. I could even feel Desdola grinning to herself from miles away. Gotcha.
Chapter Twenty
An inlet opened up, one of dozens we had passed already. The rocks and broken trees were practically identical to everything else we had seen up here, yet the sailors angled us closer. The northern wind slapped us in the face, a bite that stung my eyes and burned my cheeks. The first mate bellowed one command after another. The sailors darted across the boat, navigating us forward despite the wind coming straight at us. We zigzagged from one side of the inlet to the other until we reached a rickety jetty a few miles in. The closer we got, the more salty spray attacked us, clinging to our faces and frazzling everyone’s exhausted patience.
The sails were hoisted up in a hurry, the ropes gnawing against the wooden pulleys. We glided forward in near silence. One sailor scooped up a lassoed length of rope and rested one foot on the bow, ready to throw the rope overboard. Two other sailors climbed to the side, their oars ready to push against the jetty to maneuver us into position.
“Hold on,” said Torunn.
He wasn’t kidding. I was expecting a slow deceleration. We instead thumped to a stop and most of us land-lovers slipped off balance. Then the waves bounced back, jostling us from side to side and catching anyone who was too quick to release their grip by surprise.
Lieutenant Loken caught me, held on until I was able to grab onto something solid, and didn’t say a word. The boat settled. We disembarked.
Towering trees surrounded us. The land rose in sharp banks and boulders. You wouldn’t want to jog down that side of the inlet.
Alysia pulled the hood of her cloak free.
“Not yet, my lady,” cautioned Loken.
“I’m boiling in this thing.”
“I apologize, but we are still in enemy territory.”
“These are the people we came to see,” said Alysia.
“But we still don’t know who betrayed us. Please, I need you to stay as hidden as possible until we reach Agnarr.”
Alysia grumbled. Pulled her cloak up over her head. Murmured something about sweating like a pig.
We helped the more severely wounded to the ground, chopped some of the branches and latticed them into stretchers. One of the sailors plodded off to trumpet our arrival. By the time we got Helga’s body off-loaded we were met by a uniquely short man. Eye-height with Alysia. He wore a dull gray knitted cap that was full of holes, a faded blue knitted top that was also full of holes, and tattered trousers caked in mud that themselves were the result of a terrible dye job. Even I was embarrassed about his hand-me-downs. Still, it was impressive that he wasn’t dying of pneumonia, given that I wore more in the summer hundreds of miles south of here than he seemed to wear with winter virtually upon us.
He mumbled something that seemed like, “Is it true?”
The first mate nodded, explained. Shorty took the news to heart. Perhaps it was the death of Agnarr’s son. Perhaps it was the loss of the captain. The first mate extended his arm out towards
us, doing his best to give Alysia a solid introduction. “Eh, Torunn?”
Torunn hurried to the side to help translate.
Alysia smiled warmly. Extended both hands to shake Shorty’s. “It’s a pleasure.”
More thick-accented questioning.
“This is all of us,” said Alysia. “We lost some of ours while trying to escape the castle. Are we able to bring our injured into the village?”
Shorty nodded a, ‘yeah, no problem’.
Loken looked to Wilbur and Odalis, two members of the cavalry, to carry their dead companion.
The first set of buildings we encountered did not fill us with much confidence. Small plumes of smoke rose from grassy mounds in the ground. A single rickety door held its place above a set of wonky stone steps. Nearby were another handful of homes built into the ground with A-frame points jutting out the top, all covered in grass or dirt, all with no light from the outside that we could see.
“How far away are we from Faersrock?” asked Alysia.
“This is it,” said Torunn, with a hesitant wave. “M-Mikael says it looks different in south but remember winters here kill people. You can’t build home like yours and live here in it all year. Half year, maybe, but when snow starts to fall you see all your windows and …” He trailed off, mumbling to the rest of the crew.
“Atrium,” mumbled Mikael, from the stretcher.
“Yes,” said Torunn. “Your atriums in south will kill you here if you built them.”
We passed our first wooden building, the timber black enough that it might have survived a fire. Larger than the others and built with a couple of windows, but heavy duty shutters were locked in place, blocking out all of the light. No plume of smoke rose from this one.
“Who lives there?” asked Alysia.
“That’s church,” grunted Torunn.
A call came from up ahead, three short words I didn’t understand, but the volume was clear enough. “Foreigners coming in!”
After another hundred yards we found the lookout: a kid about eleven years old on a platform built between two trees. A rope ladder was pulled up next to him. He looked down at us, a bow in his hand and a careful squint in his eye.
Shorty waved a point towards him.
“His son,” said Torunn.
“How far until we meet Agnarr?” asked Alysia.
“One mile,” said Torunn.
Loken glanced back at me. “Everyone keep going. Raike? I need a word.” Loken came to a stop. I did the same. Alysia slowed and remained ten yards away. Zara too. The troops trudged forward, following the exhausted crew. None of them dared to look me or Loken in the eye. When we were relatively alone, Loken turned to me. “You disobeyed a direct order from Miss Kasera Lavarta and from me as well. You forced us into conflict and as a result we had to leave one of our own behind. This is unacceptable.”
“We came to depose Draegor.”
“We had a plan and you deviated from it.”
“Our plan went to shit the moment we were ambushed.”
“Yes, and you were there when we came up with a new one, weren’t you?”
He had me there. “Given what was happening at the time I made a decision that ended up saving Alysia’s life. We can now return to our original plan.”
“You don’t seem to grasp what this conversation is about.”
“Deposing Draegor.”
“No. The team.” Loken seemed to bore into my soul. “I gave you a chance in that dungeon to prove yourself. You know what you did? You escaped and left us there.”
“You knew the way out.”
“That mercenary queen of yours? She helped you out. You didn’t help us. How does it look when one of the most experienced people among us just walks off? You spent weeks training us for exactly this kind of situation but you care so little about the team that you abandoned us the first chance you got. How is anyone supposed to trust an honorless thug who leaves his own people to take care of a personal vendetta?”
Credit where credit is due, he did actually get my pulse going with that one.
Loken was far from done. “I need to know: when push comes to shove are you going to be there for us or for yourself?”
“I can toe the line.”
Loken squinted back at me. “From now on you’re going to obey Miss Kasera Lavarta’s orders exactly. If she’s not here then you follow my orders. You will not pick and choose what part of these orders to follow when it suits you. When we return to Erast you and I will be talking to General Kasera about your behavior up here. Do you understand?”
“I do.”
“Good. Don’t put us in jeopardy again.” Loken turned away. Walked off.
Alysia and Zara remained.
“My lady?”
“Thank you, Lieutenant. Zara will escort me from here.”
With one final glare coming my way, Loken went after the rest of the vanguard.
I approached Alysia with some degree of caution. “I like him.”
“Really?”
“Not at this very moment, no, but he’s good at his job and handles personality conflicts in private, so for that … yeah.”
“He’s right,” said Alysia.
“I know. But two weeks of training together does not create a well-oiled team.”
“Auron told me that even after months at the fort you were still very much a loner.”
Zara cleared her throat to encourage us get a move on. Alysia waved her hand along the pathway. “I need your advice.”
I must’ve given her one hell of a surprised look.
“You were expecting me to chew you out?”
“Pretty much.”
“Well, I spent all of last night going back and forth with every argument I could come up with about why it was wrong to kill Draegor. It wasn’t until I started talking it over with Auron this morning that something dawned on me.”
“The same Auron who is still in Anglaterra?”
“Trust me, I wasn’t saying anything out loud and there was no ghost involved. He said if my father came here to depose a king and found an opportunity, he might’ve done the same thing as you.” She continued staring at the ground, being careful not to slip in any of the mud. “I thought I knew soldiers pretty well. I’ve been surrounded by them my whole life. I thought I knew senators and lawyers and governors well, too. Yet just when I think I know how to do my job like an experienced professional – who to trust, what they mean, who to avoid, when to push for something and when to back down – something comes along and slaps me in the face. I go back to being convinced that I don’t know anything about what I’m doing, that I should know more and that I should be better. I didn’t realize it until I heard my own husband’s voice in my head but I grew up surrounded by soldiers and senators and the like while they were not doing their job. They were certainly dressed for it and they would tell me enough stories so that I thought I knew what to expect, but hearing about it and actually doing it … I had this whole trip planned. Everything was under control. I even had a plan for what to do if we were ambushed by Draegor.”
“You did?”
“Of course. My father refused to hand over the vanguard until he was sure that I had a plan for what to do if the worst happened. I had a plan for what to do if someone else got to us, if we were intercepted by another imperial army who refused to let us past … I spent months working on this. On the morning we left my father told me that he had sent Auron the authorization to bring you along with us. ‘Just in case,’ he said. So yeah, I’m going to assume that he knows you well enough to know that if everything went wrong and you saw a chance to make this whole thing still succeed you would take it.” She spied me carefully. “This does not mean you’re in the clear. Loken is still right.”
“I understand. You said something about needing my advice?”
“Yeah.” She uttered a heavy sigh. “Like it or not, the senate is now going to find out about our incursion into the north and I will face a summons. Coming he
re without permission is manageable. So is explaining our ambush by Draegor’s people. I can even justify our fairly spectacular escape from the castle. The problem is the coup. All it takes is for one senator to believe that we caused the coup ourselves and an inquiry will be launched. Those things take years to resolve and are known to bankrupt families and end careers. Senators love them. They can’t get enough of all the exposed secrets their rivals thought they had hidden away. And trust me – out of six hundred senators there are quite a few of them who don’t like the Kaseras so an inquiry is definitely going to happen.”
“Don’t high-born families do this sort of thing all the time?”
“They do. And most of them get away with it because they are already members of the senate. We’re not. If this goes well for us it will certainly put us higher on that list for when one of them dies and leaves an empty seat. If it goes badly, General Kasera might be bumped down to Commander Kasera or forced into early retirement. These are his troops after all, and I’m speaking to northern kings and nobles with my family’s authority.”
“You want me to tell you how to clean this up?”
“And how to do so within the next mile.”
“It sounds like your only hope is to go with overwhelming victory.”
“Even though it’s been nothing but a disaster?”
“Man, you really need a swift talker on your side. You weren’t ambushed by Draegor’s people, they were the ones you were supposed to meet up with. You couldn’t get any messages to Draegor himself so you went through Agnarr and he passed them along on your behalf. You were not a prisoner but a well received guest. You were given your own stateroom and your escorts were well looked after, kept warm, and fed. You learned that the alliance with the vampires was not what Draegor wanted but was one he had been forced into by a sizeable number of nobles after years of underwhelming harvests and starvation. They wanted to reclaim Galinnia but couldn’t do it without the vampires help. Razoz and his people would keep our armies busy while the warlords of the north claimed victory over their former lands. You offered an olive branch to Draegor. You made him see that the only reason his nobles had grown so powerful was because of Ispar’s trade quarantine, but if that was lifted then his nobles would no longer be able to legally raid our lands – legal by their laws, not ours.