“You know this decision will haunt you… You’re saying the ends justify the means. We both know that isn’t right.” Lizzie then stormed from Kanika’s sight and had not spoken to her since.
The argument had been the night before Dusty came up with the idea for this trap they now set. The Phoenix needed some way to contact the southern fleet wreaking havoc over the cracks. Kanika doubted it could be done, no matter what Anshika told her to do. Maybe this whole life remained a dream, and the gods merely played with her like a puppet, taking bets on her life like a fighter in the ring.
They found a slaver ship floundering in the water. Most of the crew had long abandoned their craft, rowing for safer waters. Those who didn’t were put to the sword, as there was little room on the Phoenix for prisoners. The cargo cages below the floundering deck had been emptied. The slavers picked the craft clean before they abandoned ship. It didn’t take much to punch a convincing hole in the side. Just enough to sink the aft end. This would be the bait.
The Phoenix now hoisted light blue sails. It was hoped they would help mask them from a distance. The gray skies didn’t hurt their chance either. They were able to stay just out of sight, monitor the sinking boat, and wait for a chance to rush in and catch a black ship unawares. The tactic depended on surprise and speed to work. The odds were slim it would work, but it remained the best plan they came up with.
When the black-sailed ship came over the horizon and changed course to take the bait, Kanika was ecstatic and apprehensive. Everything she’d heard about the ships and their weapons scared the hells out of her. These were the same people that somehow destroyed the Zar southern fleet in a single battle. How could a single pirate-turned-freedom-fighter overcome such an opponent?
Freedom fighter. Earlier, Lizzie took to calling her that. It made more sense than a privateer. The Phoenix had declared war on the slavers long ago. By some fluke of fate, she convinced many of the captains of Freeport to join her on her quest. As men and women that wanted to live free of cities telling them what to do, in a sense, it was only logical for her appeal to work, even if she didn’t think it would. Now she was ready to attack a larger threat than the slavers ever could be.
The black fleet ship tied up to the wreck for salvage. This was their chance. With their sails down, the black ship was dead in the water.
“Here we go, make our best speed to that ship,” Kanika shouted to the helm as Julie the bosun and the navigator Tiara took over driving the ship. Kanika was an outstanding sailor, but there were times she needed to be other places and let the experts do their jobs.
Christian took leadership of the Zar foot bows they’d captured. They would give a greater reach in an attack than the crossbows and scorpion harpoons.
“Remember, we want the ship whole and the crew alive… if we can. We need information rather than death.” Empty of cargo and only loaded with fighters, the Phoenix cut through the water much faster than normal. The wind blew three-quarters at their back, a starboard broad reach. They had the advantage of speed and maneuverability over the black-sailed craft, if they could catch them before they made way.
To Kanika’s surprise, the prey had the sails up and off from the floundering ship much quicker than she expected. The crew must be well trained and efficient for such a feat. They were still out of range for the foot bows.
The quarry turned north, working hard to increase their speed as their sails caught the wind, running with the wind. It would be a race now. The low freeboard ship might be faster than the Phoenix. If so, this battle was lost before it even started.
It proved easy to spot the smoke as the crew on the black ship tried to ignite something. Their deck erupted in a shower of sparks and thick white smoke. Kanika had never seen such a sight before. Three smoking projectiles headed toward the Phoenix. Kanika and her crew stood slack-jawed as the long tubes headed toward their ship.
It was easy for Kanika to see they were several ship lengths out of range from the Zar foot bows, but the black ship's weapons sailed over their head and exploded safely behind them. If they'd hit their ship, they would be lost in flames.
All chaos broke loose on Kanika’s ship as people prayed to their many gods, but the Phoenix still lived and scrapped for a fight. Julie and Tiara held the ship steady in the face of such awesome weapons. The crew steeled themselves for another attack.
Her eyes glued to the black ship, Kanika waited for the next, more accurate attack, but she could see the deck of the black ship had shattered into chaos as well. Bright yellow flames broke out, and men were fighting the fire as best they could. Something happened, but she could not decide what from a distance. A puff of thick white smoke appeared first, then the loudest sound Kanika ever heard assaulted her. The black ship disappeared in a fireball of thick white smoke. Out of reflex, she ducked as flaming pieces of the black ship flew past her, landing on deck.
She stood and scanned the devastation to find the black ship had disappeared. The bait ship caught flame from the blast.
“That didn’t go as planned,” Dusty’s voice cooed in her ringing ear. He had come up alongside her. His hand held the bowline over hers. “Options?”
“I’m not sure what happened or how we can improve the attack. It looks like our bait won’t last long.” Kanika shook her head. She had little chance to catch one of the black ships if they were going to blow up when they got close. It must have been an accident. She could see no crew destroying their ship and themselves to avoid capture. They still held a fighting chance. The Phoenix hadn’t even launched their first volley.
“Looks like we caught something in the trap.” Dusty pointed over the side.
There on the deck of the now burning and floundering ship stood a half-nude golden-haired man fighting the flames as best he could.
“Come alongside and drop the longboat. Looks like we have someone to claim after all. I want whoever is on the ship alive. We need information not a body count.” Kanika worked her way down the side of the ship to the helm and Tiara. “Can you get us close without catching fire?”
The navigator shifted course, slowing the ship but not stopping. “I will bring it downwind. We should be fine. Keep an eye out. That blast will let everyone around know something happened.”
Her crew had gotten better over the weeks. Those who wanted off the ship had left when they found a chance, and she had no problem finding others to take their place. Some of the former slaves were not suited for fighting. Not everyone held a fire in the belly like Kanika and her crew. She only wanted those people ready to die for the cause of freedom to serve on her ship. Too much remained at stake.
The longboat made its way to the wreck. The man that fought the fires stood guard over what looked like a child. He held a massive ax in both his hands and threatened the boat before it landed. Bows were out of the question. With the twin bobbing platforms, there was no way to hit that target with a single shot.
The Phoenix’s carpenter Christian balanced on his one good leg at the front of the longboat, trying to talk to the blond man with little success. In his hand, he spun a heaving line with monkey fist attached.
“We can’t wait much longer. That thing is going to sink soon,” Kanika shouted across the void. The foreign man looked up when she shouted.
Christian had been spinning the line in a tight arc next to his body. When the man looked away for a second, he let fly his rope. The weighted ball at the end of the line sailed in a straight shot, faster that Kanika thought possible, and smashed into the side of the stranger’s head. If he was lucky, the strong arm of the carpenter didn’t crush the southerner’s skull.
The longboat ran up hard on the swamped deck of the abandoned slaver ship, and the crew swarmed over the downed man. They had him cinched up tight before he woke. The boy he stood over never moved during the whole ordeal. Both were pulled to safety before the ship started burning brighter.
Kanika wasn’t sure if he was protecting the unconscious boy or holding him hos
tage. It made little difference. They had found a captive they could question. Now they needed to escape this place before the smoke brought unwanted attention and their death with it.
Chapter 17, Father Cole:
To say that Cole was having a bad day would be an understatement. His bastard son, Saunders, had been missing for two cycles of the moons. It wasn’t that he missed the boy. On the contrary, in many ways, he felt relief the boy’d gone missing. If he proved dead, that was one less threat that could challenge his leadership of the Brotherhood.
The acolytes of the Brotherhood were not prisoners, per se, they just were not allowed to leave the cloister until they reached full priest status. This normally took several years and many tests of their loyalty. The Brotherhood only wanted evangelists out in the world that toed the party line. The reputation of the church was more important than any personal freedom.
The city of Abaraka looked calm from the height of his chambers, but his spies told him a different story. The city—his city—sat on the edge. Technically he was not the ruler. He was the high priest, the chief spiritual leader of the Brotherhood of the Son, the most feared religious order on the shards. It was through his blessings the puppet leader of Abaraka was allowed to rule. The woman could be replaced in a heartbeat by religious decree. She needed to follow his direction or face his wrath.
“How could a boy, who is”—Cole tried to control his rage but found it difficult—“a washout from the order, escape the cloister?” Cole’s voice growled when he spoke. This remained the primary question he had asked since Saunders’s disappearance. He had yet to receive any type of suitable answer from his priests.
“Sir, we don’t know if he has left the temple. He might be in hiding.” That was the head of the temple guards, the man responsible for keeping the high priests, namely Cole, safe from attack. That wasn’t the answer Cole searched for.
The wine glass shattered in his hand. Cole threw the remnants at the man who spoke. “Are your words supposed to leave me warm and fuzzy? To suggest that there is a place a boy could hide in this temple for over sixty days is” –Cole wanted a harsher word but settled— “unacceptable.” He gritted his teeth a moment before continuing. “You are telling me that there is a place you do not know about, which could hide an assassin. If the boy is dead, bring me his body,” Cole shouted as he charged the captain of his guard, turned him by force, and kicked him in the ass, propelling him toward the door. “Do not return without a body.”
Once the door slammed shut behind the guard, a calm voice spoke. “Beating your guards will do little good to find your son. It might make matters worse,” a balding, gray-haired man said from the side table.
“Lord Aspis, don’t you start with me. I have no time for your mouth.”
Lord Aspis was the previous Master Judge, but when Cole defeated him and took his place, Cole let him live and kept him on as an advisor—a constant reminder of his victory, in spite of overwhelming odds, to become the head priest.
The man persisted as a living trophy and a pain in Cole’s ass. The man was much too old to be any real threat now, but he could still be an irritant. Too old to know when it was time to hold his peace.
“Why do you assume your son is still in the chambers?” The old man who lounged back in the chair now sat up and steepled his fingers in front of his nose, elbows leaning on the table before him.
“Because if he escaped the cloister, then it would be… If one person can get out, how many more can get in? If someone helped him escape, what will stop them from helping others to enter? The boy needs to be brought before me to face his punishment for breaking his vows, to be used as an example, and to stop anyone else from attempting the same reckless actions.” Cole was certain his ears turned red with his anger. His pulse beat like a drum in his ears.
“First off, you should breathe. If you keep talking for so long without a breath, you are going to pass out mid-thought. Next, you need to stop thinking of Saunders as a boy. He is a full-grown man. I believe nearly the same age as when you challenged me.” The old man’s voice dripped with sarcasm.
Cole considered putting him out of the temple. For good, by throwing him out of the window that looked over the harbor below. This room remained the most defendable place in the city, more than high enough to shatter the old man’s bones when he hit the roofs far below. Cole held his breath and counted to ten before he spoke. “Has the Cataloguer confessed to helping the—my son?”
The old man who supervised the boy had come to Cole with his concerns about the wild questions Saunders had asked. The Master Judge had paid him little attention. Over the next few days, he had disappeared.
When Saunders didn’t return for his duties, the Cataloguer did not report him. That was probably partially Cole’s fault. He didn’t show much concern with the first report, why should it be assumed he would with the second?
“You know he hasn’t. Listen, I know you’re worried about Saunders and an attempt at a coup, but you need to pay more attention to the reports filtering in about the lands surrounding us.” It took some effort, but Aspis stood and, with his cane, hobbled over to the window Cole retreated to. “From what I hear, there are countless happenings going on out there. I don’t think Abaraka and the Brotherhood will be able to remain out of this conflict for long.”
“We both know that is only the concern of the sea-faring cities. If the black ships come here, they will die in our streets. I have ordered the search of every ship that arrives. The search continues for either pox or the flesh-eating sickness. Few ships risk trading with us due to our… strict following of the code of the One Son.”
The temple taught that it was normal for the weak to be ruled by the strong. That was the foundation for most of the teachings the Brotherhood held dear. It was why they were the most feared order in the shards.
The Brotherhood was not ashamed that they took slaves. They advertised the fact to every city-state around.
“This is so, but perhaps we should warn the outer monasteries along the wall about the plagues and the raids. At least inform the abbots about the danger. It is not unheard of for smugglers to land outside the wall then bring goods into the city to escape taxes. They could unwittingly bring in sickness.”
Cole hated ruling the city. He wished he had lived two hundred years ago when the founders of the religion came to this cliff dwelling and took over the shard by force. That was when it meant something to be a member of the Brotherhood.
Now he felt like a shepherd, protecting the sheep that lived in the city below. He wanted more than anything to be a warrior, out defeating the nonbelievers of the One Son. Killing all who failed to convert. The One Son defeated his father, the sleeping god. It was only a matter of time before the other gods fell into line with the One Son supreme.
The temple didn’t need a single soul from the city. They could all get fucked as far as Cole was concerned. He would rather lead his Brothers into battle against the infidels that made up the other cities. Even a fight against the mythological demons of the mountains would be more productive than being a virtual prisoner in his own temple.
Unfortunately, wars and invasions needed ships and supplies, and everything cost coin the Brotherhood didn’t have. The Brothers didn’t produce enough to feed themselves. If not for the slave labor, the temple would die of starvation. The Brothers trained too much in the art of war to concern themselves with the mundane act of growing food. They were a standing army without a purpose and without a way to maintain themselves in the field.
“Will you send word to warn the others?” Aspis urged again in a soft voice.
Cole nodded. “Take care of it for me. Warn the outlying temples to be prepared for… think up something without raising too much alarm. I doubt there will be any trouble. Who would dare attack us?” Cole turned and stared the old man in the eyes. “Who would dare attack us?” The rhetorical question was meant to calm Cole’s nerves about his missing bastard son Saunders and the porte
nt it might be.
<=OO=>
Saunders Coleson could no longer feel his feet. The water sapped all coordination from his body. If not for the horse he held onto, he would have surely fallen face-first into the stream. The animal carried him as much as it carried Alegria.
The snow level dropped as he walked north down the mountain valley, but darkness grew. If he was right, and the monsters came out at night, he needed to find protection soon or die in the frozen land he despised.
Strapped to the back of the horse, the two kits and Alegria slept, or at least the woman pretended to sleep. If he were in the same position, he would wait and fake slumber until he could press the advantage and try for an escape.
The stream grew into a swift-flowing river, and the river came to a massive ledge of slick black stone the water cascaded over. The black stone shown through the white virgin snow like an open wound.
Coleson watched for such a sight. He needed to escape the water before his feet froze and broke off. He couldn’t remember ever being so cold in his life. The black rock that made up the cliff face lining the valley was made of the same strange bulbous black stone the mountains were.
Small circular caves dotted the wall, and Saunders split his concentration between not falling into the water and finding a place to hide from the creatures. He felt certain the demons would chase them down the mountain as soon as darkness fell. At least a cave would offer some modest level of protection. Saunders even thought of an idea that might keep them safe while they waited the hours till dawn.
The horse followed him up the sheet of slick rock and out of the water. He never would have made it over the side of the falls with his feet so cold. The idea of a fire warmed his heart, but he knew the smell would travel for a great distance and might be the difference between life and death. He would need to suffer the night with no fire. He doubted he would see the morning. Either the cold or the monsters would surely kill him.
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