Stemming the Tide

by Rosie Scott

  “That's music to my ears, friend,” I greeted, taking his hand in mine in a casual embrace. He didn't smell as bad as he looked; only the harmless scents of ocean salt and light sweat exuded from him.

  “Apologies for our late return,” Koby said, shaking Rik's hand next. “As you can see, we've had a hell of a time getting back to you. On the plus side, we've more than doubled our cargo capacity, so we'll help you free up your space here.”

  “More than doubled?” Rik raised his eyebrows. “Did you sell the caravel?”

  “Sell it? Pfft. That's boring,” I blurted. “We sunk it.”

  Rik's eyes widened with disbelief. “You had just bought it!”

  “Yep.”

  “Well, what happened? Pirates?”

  “Sirens,” Koby replied. “Stranded us in the Western Isles. The pirates made things worse for us, too, but that's a story for later. We have a lot of cargo to move and we're looking to get out of Killick as soon as possible so we can get back to the wildlands. We have reason to believe the pirates will attack the Forks, and we need to help defend our friends and business partners there.”

  Rik nodded and turned back toward his warehouse. “It sounds like you're spreading yourselves thin.”

  “There are a billion things we want to do and not enough time in the world to do it,” Koby acknowledged as we followed him.

  Rik's warehouse had two gigantic industrial sliding doors to allow for the easier maneuvering of cargo. As he hauled the left door open, Koby grabbed the right. In the shadowed dusty interior, crates, bags, and chests of goods were packed so tightly within its walls it was a wonder the building didn't burst.

  “And this is why you caught me still in Killick,” Rik admitted, looking over the mess. “I've made two trips out to Nahara since you were here last. I've got so much product here for you that I have room for nothing else. Nearly thought you'd gone and got yourselves killed.”

  I put a new cigarette between my lips. “We hear that a lot.”

  “We might not be able to take everything this trip,” Koby admitted to Rik, coming over to light my cigarette for me with a match. “Considering our troubles, we're running low on gold. If you'd be so kind as to let us use your wagons to bring everything inland, we're hoping to sell some ferris in Killick while we're here to make up the discrepancy between what we have and what we owe you.”

  “Take the wagons,” Rik agreed, before he laughed, overwhelmed. “Please take the wagons and get some of this out of here. I'll get my men to help.”

  “How much of it is ours?” I asked.

  “See this little pathetic pile over here?” Rik asked, wandering over to where a stack of a dozen crates huddled in the shadow of the front building corner. “This is mine. Everything else is yours.”

  Everything else comprised the rest of the building. I huffed with both amusement and relief, for Rik had proven to be a reliable business partner despite our long absence. “You've met your end of the bargain, Rik,” I complimented.

  “Don't say that yet,” Rik replied, limping over to a warped, faded piece of parchment that hung by a tack on the warehouse wall. As he looked over it, he explained, “I couldn't get quite everything you asked for. Llyr's selection of beasts was low. The beast-master told me business was so slow she could only focus part-time on the blood trade. I bought pretty much everything she had, but my men are sailors, not beast wranglers, so some animals died on the return trip. Pretty much everything that survived is either avian or insect because they were easier to keep. There were some other goods I bought little or nothing of because the prices were so high. So many workers are abandoning their jobs and joining the Naharan Army because they're ramping up recruitment to stave off the beasts from the beastlands. As a result, they gather fewer resources, produce and smelt less...” he trailed off before a shrug. “In good news, you'll have more glass than you'll know what to do with. I believe you mentioned throwing so much overboard before your cog sunk.”

  “Yes, sir,” Koby said, walking over to Rik's side and holding out an envelope. “Don't worry about getting everything we ask for. It's literally impossible to do so.”

  Rik took the envelope and opened it up to take out the packet of papers Koby had prepared for him. “What's this?”

  “More requests from the wildlands,” Koby replied. “Considering they built us a ship and equipped our men with new armor and gear, we're indebted to them for life.”

  “And, by extension, so am I,” Rik mused lightly as he read over the list. “Good gods, I could retire before getting all of this.”

  “Did Ajax Dunn come speak to you?” I inquired.

  “He sure did,” Rik answered, glancing up at me over the parchment. “It's how I found out your crew was still alive at all. At this rate, you guys need to have more calamities to give me the time necessary to get all this done.”

  “Sounds like someone's business needs to expand,” Koby suggested, his tone light with humor.

  Rik huffed. “Aye. Considering recent events, I think I'll have to hire some men to either build a new warehouse or expand this one. And then...who knows? Maybe I'll hire a mercenary crew and ship to help me with these shipments.”

  “You'll have to,” I said. “We might be recommending you to more mercenaries in the future. Did Ajax tell you about our plans of a mercenary rebellion against the pirates?”

  “No,” Rik replied, sounding surprised. “But you've caught my interest.”

  Koby and I gave our business partner the details of our latest sea battle, and our plans to rile up fellow mercenary crews against the pirates while staging small attacks to cripple them. Though we told Rik of the leviathan and its last-known location northwest of Killick, we didn't reveal our specific plans to use the beast against the pirate fleet. For as long as possible, it was in our best interest to keep that a secret.

  “You men must have balls the size of Meir,” Rik commented in awe when we finished. “So how do I play into all this?”

  “Be our line of communication, first of all,” I replied. “If you see or hear of any mercenaries that might want a part of it, give them our information. We're based in Silvi. They can contact us through Silvi's harbor office, Jeremoth Boivin, or Devlyn Hartwood. Koby can give you their contact information. In the meantime, if mercenary crews are going to stand any chance against the pirates, they need to be well-equipped and have enough gold to keep them from getting bored or sidetracked. By strengthening the trading route between Killick and Nahara and thus the route between Killick and the wildlands, there will be more work for more crews. It gives them the opportunity to grow and diversify, and it gives us more possible reinforcements on the seas when we contend with pirate vessels. If you have work or know where to find it, we'd appreciate you telling these mercenaries and spreading the word.”

  “Hell, considering how well you're doing for yourself in Killick,” Koby began, motioning toward Rik's full inventory, “word might spread regardless. Over time you might attract mercenaries looking for work since you're making this route look profitable. Also, whenever you're in Nahara, ask around for information if you could. About the locations of slave routes, slave owners, pirate hideouts or illicit partnerships.” He motioned at the envelope he gave Rik earlier. “I wrote down names, locations, and everything we know so far about the pirates and their dealings in Llyr and Al Nazir. You can use it to help you find out more. Don't dig too deep or you could get in trouble, but if you could find anything out we'd be grateful. We need as much information as possible to start planning to sabotage and attack them.”

  “Will do, my friends,” Rik agreed. “That's a hell of a request, but I'm up for it.”

  That we managed to get both Ajax and Rik on our side boosted my pride as we started work for the day. I was in a good mood as the others moved heavy cargo from stacks to wagons, particularly since my injured arm meant I was exempt from the work. At one point, Sage glanced up at me after filling a wagon with multiple heavy packages of glass. His
pale face shimmered with sweat and he breathed hard with exertion as he jested, “I'm starting to believe you planned your injury.”

  I smirked as I smoked while leaning back against the warehouse wall. “It was perfect timing, wasn't it? Don't forget that you're the one who said I needed six weeks to heal.”

  “Then perhaps I will make it a point to walk a path with many exposed tree roots,” Sage said lightly, “and when I trip and sprain my ankle, I will join you in leisureliness.”

  Koby hefted canvas bags of desert fruit sugars into a cart as he interjected, “I regret to inform you that palm trees do not have trip-worthy roots like most. Palm roots appear fuzzy and grow in a small circumference around the trunk.”

  “Then perhaps I will dig for them and find time to trip over my shovel,” Sage jested.

  I laughed at his teasing persistence. After we had loaded as much as we could in Rik's available wagons, we started the long process of hauling them across the island. It was back-breaking work to move carts over sands, and while I was grateful not to have to strain myself, my desire to lessen the load for the others was greater. As the others transported cargo, I busied myself with cleaning twigs and brush from the path as best as I could with one arm while finding the best route.

  It was a beautiful day for travel. Bright blue skies and billowy white clouds filled in the gaps of the tropical canopies. Curious sunlight tickled the palms until the trees allowed it passage to the creamy sands below. A kaleidoscope of flora in stunning exotic colors accompanied our journey, exuding pleasurable aromas. Although we traveled across the center of Killick and could not see the ocean, its song murmured through the copses, audible during the breaks of the grunts and heavy breathing from our straining crew members. A soft constant breeze blew inland from the west, kissing our faces before taking off with our perspiration. The gorgeous weather encouraged island wildlife to scurry to and fro in searches for homes, mates, or food; tiny sleek lizards crisscrossed our path, dodging boots and wheels while showing no fear of our greater size. I pondered over whether the full-blooded reptiles could sense their kin in my blood. Ever since becoming a shapeshifter, I felt no kinship for lizards, only a greater understanding of animal behavior overall.

  “Whose stupid idea was this?” Koby called out behind me, his voice labored but light with humor.

  I glanced back with a smirk. “We can waste another moon sailing south of Killick if you'd rather haul these things to the harbor, but then we won't get back to the wildlands in time to aid Vallen.”

  “What happens...” Hassan trailed off, grunting with effort as he pushed his wagon through uneven sand. “What happens if we get back to the Forks just to find he failed to defend it?” He paused and reconsidered, “Or, hell, even if Vallen held the Forks in that attack we expected, Cale might not decide to come back. How long will we wait for him to show?”

  “He'll come back,” I replied with a certainty born out of instinct. “No matter how inconvenient we make things for him, he'll keep trying if only because he's competitive. Cale was excited to see us on the seas even though he thought we were dead. He enjoys this spat of ours. It entertains him. He'll be back, if only because he looks forward to the chaos.”

  “It'll be hell fighting an electric wyvern in the swamps,” Hassan mused.

  “Stay out of the water,” I advised simply.

  “I was still on a ship when Cale nearly electrocuted me on the Wobblin' Woody,” Hassan pointed out. “Air magic spreads so rapidly, land or sea. Thank the gods Jaecar and Kali prevented him from—” He stopped himself short, swallowed hard, and finished, “Only alteration shields can protect against that, but we can't rely on the beastmen to protect us when they're also our best warriors.”

  “Hassan,” Jaecar spoke up from the wagon behind him. “Don't worry about it. I won't transform so I can generate shields for everyone.”

  “All right.” Hassan replied, audibly relieved. His worries about being protected with magical guards made guilt clutter my chest. On the Wobblin' Woody, I'd saved him from the air magic just in time, but if it hadn't been for the acts of others in the last battle, it was possible Cale could have killed everyone in one or two sweeps of spouting lightning, and all because I'd made one mistake. If only I could control my rages in battle and make better decisions to protect my crew, they wouldn't have to rely on anyone else.

  Of course, I couldn't control them. That was the problem. Annoyed with myself, I subconsciously pulled a cigarette out of my trouser pocket. Then I remembered that I couldn't light it with my arm in a sling and that everyone else was busy, so I shoved it back in and scowled.

  “Yesterday,” Hassan spoke up again, “Koby was talking about liberating slaves to join us against the pirates and Jaecar mentioned wanting to convince mercenaries to rebel, too. I haven't been talkative lately so I said nothing at the time, but I have an idea to gain allies that will be cheap and easy.”

  “By all means, share it,” Koby prodded.

  “Don't underestimate Jaalam and Nahara's southeastern villages when it comes to recruiting,” Hassan suggested. “We'll likely find dozens, if not hundreds, of people there who will join us for free.”

  “Why?” I inquired, kicking a twig out of the way of the oncoming wagons.

  “Has anyone here ever been to Jaalam?” Hassan asked, glancing behind him. His voice didn't reach the back of the line, but of those who heard his question, no one answered affirmatively. He huffed in slight amusement and surmised, “Didn't think so. Well, I was born and raised there. Each city in Nahara is dedicated to a main goal. The capital, T'ahal, is a bastion of trade and tourism. Al Nazir focuses on naval defense and international trade. Llyr dabbles in everything without commitment: trade, service and combat training, the deep fishing industry, you name it. They built Jaalam for one reason only: resources. It's a beautiful city, just north of the Dhahab Canyons at the end of a freshwater river. They mine all the sandstone you see throughout the nation in those canyons. Jaalam, Nen, Kei, and Nairi all specialize in mining sandstone. While Nen is close enough to T'ahal and Llyr to deliver its own resources, Kei and Nairi report directly to Jaalam, which reports to the capital. The trio are self-sustaining. Fish are plentiful, they're all close to the freshwater river, and the official guard force doesn't venture that far east unless ordered to, so civilians tend to know how to fight and take care of themselves in case of problems.

  “So,” Hassan continued, “what happens when you have self-sustaining settlements full of talented workers and self-taught warriors who must pay heavy taxes to a king and capital that gives them nothing in return?”

  “You get resentment,” Jaecar replied, stopping for a moment to pull his hood back over his head when it fell. “Disloyalty.”

  “Exactly,” Hassan agreed. “I said a while back that I was a miner when I lived in Jaalam. I didn't have many friends there because the Naharans are generally distrustful of Alderi, but I overheard a lot of the chatter. Many civilians in Jaalam are poor, overworked, and raring to leave, but they don't have the resources to do it. When Patrick came to Jaalam all those years ago to hire sailors, he knew what he was doing because he'd done it before. Walk up to any random person in Jaalam and ask if they want to leave with you, and they say, 'where to?' Not, 'why?' People there are looking for escape, and opportunities rarely present themselves.”

  “Is there a harbor south of Jaalam?” Koby asked.

  “No,” Hassan replied. “Nothing but some sandstone blocks in the waters near Nairi and Kei that they dare to lie and call docks, but those are just for fishing boats. It wouldn't be a place to trade, but it could be invaluable for us in terms of recruiting.”

  “You said earlier that these people would join us for free,” I said over my shoulder.

  “Oh, yes. I joined Patrick for free, as did the others. We only expected payment for our work, and even then we were just happy to get out of there and see the world. I don't think it's out of the realm of possibility to say that Vruyk and Cale
have likely recruited people from the eastern settlements. After all, they're looking for any chance to leave, and since they're self-sustaining and forgotten in that corner of the country they're not as negatively affected by the pirates, whether through trade or slavery.”

  Koby replied, “Then we should try to go there to recruit, if only to get support in numbers before the pirates can.”

  “Agreed,” I said. I thought of how Hassan had left his mother in Jaalam and wondered if he missed her enough to suggest our visit. Surface-dwellers seemed to hold family in high-regard, which was an odd concept to me I wished to better understand. I directed my next question to Hassan. “Does your mother still live in Jaalam?”

  “Oh...likely not,” Hassan replied vaguely.

  “Does she travel for work?” Koby asked.

  Hassan laughed humorlessly. “No. She was a fisher. She's likely dead by now. When I last visited about ten years ago, she could no longer see well enough to work and lived with a friend who could care for her. She seemed content to die whenever her time came.”

  “How old was she?” I asked. Because Hassan was a half-breed of human and Alderi, his full-blooded parents had vastly different lifespans. I'd once been amazed to see wrinkled humans in Nahara just to find out they were only seventy. Here I was, nearly one hundred and sixty, and my appearance hadn't changed since my twenties.

  “If she's still alive, she'd be...” Hassan trailed off to think. “Seventy-five. She had me at twenty-five. Humans have an extremely short period of time when they can get pregnant. They're not like elves, who can still have children when they're five hundred. Sometimes humans struggle to have children in their thirties and forties. Can you believe that? It's a wonder they manage to repopulate at all. When I was young, my mother said I was a miracle because she'd never been pregnant before, and she had tried for a decade. She even built a shrine to Eustace in our home.”