Autumngale

by Sarah K. L. Wilson

  But Abelmeyer wasn’t listening. He was looking. Searching.

  There was a creaking sound from behind them and Abelmeyer spun lightning-fast bringing his sword up.

  He was just in time.

  One blade met the other in the clang of steel on steel.

  Liandari was lightning fast, her blade snaking out like a viper in any direction that he wasn’t guarding. But Abelmeyer was quick, too, turning her blade and spinning in a complicated movement that locked their swords together and almost succeeded in wrenching her sword away.

  He pulled back from the clash, crouching low and darting his blade out like a flicking tongue of a lizard.

  Flick toward her face. She countered.

  Flick toward her feet. She danced aside.

  Flick toward her wrist. That time his sword bit flesh.

  But he didn’t stay still. He leapt from the crouch and strode forward so quickly that Tamerlan’s breath would have caught in his throat if he was the one doing the breathing. He pushed past her faltering guard and grabbed her throat with one hand, lifting her up and shaking her.

  Beside him, Etienne was calling something, but Abelmeyer’s ears were roaring, his vision reddening in his battle rage.

  A hand was placed on his shoulder and he spun to look at whoever was touching him. Liandari shook in his grasp as he moved.

  Anglarok stood with hands raised, disarmed by Etienne but it was Etienne who had placed a hand on Tamerlan’s arm.

  “Enough, brother,” he said with a taut expression. “No need to kill her.”

  The red began to clear from his vision, but it wasn’t Tamerlan who spoke. It was Abelmeyer.

  “They are Banished Ones. The spawn of Queen Mer.”

  “We could use them to get around the blockade,” Etienne said easily. “The barge is good, but what if they search it? These are their own people. They could help us get through.”

  “Help us or betray us?” Abelmeyer asked. “Their ancestors fled the five cities during the Orange Wars. How fitting that they would return during the Autumngale celebration when the Orange Wars are remembered. Have you forgotten that they chased us all the way here? They want our blood. They do not want to help us.”

  “We want Marielle,” Liandari gasped. Abelmeyer set her on the deck, but he still held her throat. “We need her to track the opener of the Bridge of Legends. He is our doom. He must be stopped.”

  A muscle clenched in Etienne’s jaw and Tamerlan flinched internally. Would he reveal that Tamerlan was the one who had opened the Bridge? Didn’t he need Tamerlan as much as they did? Maybe that would keep him from being too honest.

  If he does, I will dispatch them quickly. We dare not risk you.

  “Does that mean that you will work with us to find Grandfather Timeless and set Marielle free from the clock?” Etienne asked.

  “We have considered your tale,” Liandari gasped. “About the clock. About the Grandfather.”

  “Give her a little breath, Tamerlan,” Etienne said, leaning forward like a hunting dog.

  Abelmeyer let go of her throat. But his hand whipped out to grab her sword wrist instead. She flinched as his grip bit into her wound. But she hadn’t dropped the sword. That took discipline. Someone that disciplined might decide to strike at any moment.

  She will strike us down the moment we no longer serve a purpose to her. And if she finds out you are our bridge to this world, she will do worse than kill you. We will not allow that.

  How did he know?

  Queen Mer sent them away with prophecies. Prophecies that the opener of the Bridge would destroy the world.

  Well, Tamerlan wouldn’t be destroying anything. Except for maybe the Grandfather.

  Exactly.

  Although, opening the Bridge of Legends often had consequences he didn’t anticipate.

  They are insane. Religiously insane and that is worse.

  “We will help you find this Grandfather. Our quest is too important not to use whoever we can,” Liandari said.

  “She was trying to kill me a moment ago,” Abelmeyer objected. “That’s not the work of someone who wants to be an ally.”

  Etienne waved a hand dismissively. “I’ll take their weapons. You can watch them. They won’t cause trouble when we both want the same thing, will you, Liandari? We could use allies. The two of us haven’t succeeded yet. Maybe if we were four, that would change.”

  It doesn’t matter if he brings them along. One wrong look and we’ll cut their throats.

  That seemed harsh.

  Would you rather they cut yours?

  Liandari looked at Anglarok who shrugged and handed Etienne his short sword and harpoon. “Take them. But we would prefer if you guarded us.”

  “Why?”

  “The boy smells of madness,” Anglarok said, looking at Tamerlan as Tamerlan took the sword from Liandari’s hand. He hadn’t relaxed his grip on her wound. “The insane can be used, but never trusted.”

  Tamerlan felt Abelmeyer’s jaw clench and he agreed wholeheartedly. He wasn’t insane. Was he?

  Always, the weak see the strong as mad. Visionaries. Leaders. Seers. Through the ages, they are branded as madmen. You are only thought to be mad because you have tapped into the rushing river of time and plucked out the Legends leaping through the water like salmon. You have birthed us into the world for a short time to feed your vision. Ignore the mortal.

  “I think it’s better if I watch them,” Abelmeyer said calmly to Etienne. “The ship’s crew needs your ability to calm them.”

  He nodded his head toward where the ship’s crew was gathered around, jaws dropping open as they watched the tableau in the stern.

  Etienne cursed softly and then nodded to Tamerlan.

  Liandari grunted in protest, but with her weapons gone she could only protest with murderous looks.

  “Don’t kill anyone while I’m gone,” Etienne said quietly – and he was deadly serious. He strode away, speaking calmly to the sailors like a man trying to reassure a dog, but his fist clenched and unclenched betraying his own worry.

  Tamerlan smiled at Liandari and Anglarok, shuddering inside at the feeling of that smile. When Abelmeyer smiled with his mouth, it did not feel pleasant. It felt vicious.

  “If we’re really going to work together, then we need to talk,” Liandari said as Anglarok opened his bag and brought out a roll of bandage for her wrist.

  “I suppose you’ll want to lay the groundwork for how to use me,” Abelmeyer said with Tamerlan’s voice. But Tamerlan was secretly cheering him on. Yes! She deserved to know how much that had stung.

  “We’re hitched together now – you and me. We want the same thing,” Liandari said, her eyes hard as flint.

  “Then swear to me by the salt of the sea and the salt of your blood that we are one until the purpose is met.”

  What did that mean?

  It is how these people swear. If she does not agree, then she plans to betray us.

  “How do you know about that?” Liandari’s eyes flashed with suspicion.

  “Don’t try to guess how much I know.”

  Sometimes Abelmeyer sounded noble. Sometimes he sounded like an arrogant fool.

  Don’t insult the person who can destroy your body.

  Liandari and Anglarok looked at each other and then at him. Their expressions were identical – narrowed, suspicious eyes.

  “We don’t make promises to the insane.”

  Abelmeyer leaned in close – so close that Tamerlan wondered if he planned to kiss her.

  I’d rather kiss a snake.

  He was still gripping her wrist as Anglarok danced nervously from foot to foot.

  “Insane or not, I’ll split you from navel to nose unless you swear.”

  They exchanged another dark look before they spoke in unison.

  “We swear on the salt of water and blood not to try to kill you until together we have freed Marielle from the clock.”

  Abelmeyer gave them a small, tight bow. Confidence
almost dripped off of him.

  “I swear by the salt of water and blood not to try to kill you until together we have freed Marielle from the clock.”

  He sheathed his sword. What was he doing? They looked like they might try to kill him at a moment’s notice.

  Not now that they’ve sworn.

  Anglarok spat and his face was dark with suppressed anger. But he took his sword from the pile and sheathed it, leaning his harpoon against the rail of the ship.

  “The failed ruler has a way with words,” Liandari said, nodding to where Etienne had calmed the ship’s crew and got them back on course.

  “A ruler only fails if his people die needlessly,” Abelmeyer said, taking her wrist in his hand. “This needs stitches. Let me help you with that.”

  With a piercing expression on her face, she handed him a small oil-cloth packet and let him begin the work of stitching her skin. But tension and violence crackled in the air around them like lightning about to strike.

  And if they ever realized that he was the one they were really looking for, then no vows in the world would save him. He’d just have to keep smoking and keep Abelmeyer there until they found the Grandfather. Otherwise, he’d be as vulnerable as a fish in a net.

  I’ll make sure you are safe. Just keep me around so that I can.

  19: Out of Reach

  Marielle

  SHE COULDN’T HELP IT. His scent drew her like a bee to a flower and now she was here, watching him again. Watching his blue eyes filling with wonder as he traced the structure of the Queen Mer library with his gaze. He was sketching it on a recipe page he was holding that was meant to make a stronger steel. But around the edges of the recipe were charcoaled sketches of the library. Of a child’s face with the light hitting his eye at just the right angle to make it sparkle mischievously. Of an old woman’s gnarled hands.

  Tamerlan’s smile was far away as he added to the collection of sketches.

  “Tam!” Dathan is in trouble again!” a voice called to him, shaking him out of his reverie. “He bet against a blacksmith in cards and if he loses again, he’ll pay with more than coppers!”

  Tamerlan stuffed the pages in his belt and sprinted after the other boy.

  That’s who he’d been before all this. A dreamy artist. A thinker. A helper of friends.

  But could you really say that was still who he was? After everything he’d done? She wasn’t sure. But she was beginning to think she knew him now, or at least knew who he had been before he woke the dragon.

  And yet, she felt a pull to him. She couldn’t help but watch him wade into the tavern and push between his friend and the hulking blacksmith.

  “Can I help you, friends?” he asked mildly.

  “Only if you can pay his debt!” the blacksmith cursed. “Fool bet with nothing to back it!”

  “I can pay you later,” Dathan started, stumbling a little as he tried to step backward. His eye was already swelling – a red flower on his pale face. He must have been hit before Tamerlan arrived.

  But the blacksmith lunged at him and Tamerlan had to throw a shoulder into the blacksmith’s chest to hold him back.

  “Whoa, whoa,” he said gently. “No need for violence. It’s not the answer here.”

  “He stole from me! And no one steals from Chysander.”

  “Chysander is it?” Tam asked with a friendly smile. “How much does he owe you?”

  “Two full silver.”

  Tamerlan reached in his purse, pulling out two silver coins and holding them out to the blacksmith.

  “Not enough, now!” the man sputtered, refusing to take them. “Now he’s caused me trouble, too.”

  Tamerlan paused, the muscle in his jaw jumping as he considered what to do. “And if I take him away from here and offer you our sincerest apologies?”

  The blacksmith muttered something, snatching the coins away and Tamerlan hustled his friend out the door. Dathan stumbled as he walked. He was mumbling as they went.

  “I just hate feeling like I’m nothing. Hate feeling like I owe everyone and can never get out of it. I was sold. Sold like a pig for market. I’ll be paying that back all my life to get free. All my life.”

  “I know,” Tamerlan said, wrapping an arm around him to support his friend. Compassion bloomed around him in puffs of lavender scent.

  “You, too. Sold. You can’t go anywhere you want or do anything. You’ve got to work for the guild ‘till they’re paid their price. All your life.”

  “I know.”

  “What are we if we can be bought and sold? What are we?”

  “We’re friends,” Tamerlan said mildly. “Or at least I think we are.”

  “You’re a good friend, Tam,” Dathan said thickly. “That was six month’s pay you gave for me. How are you going to buy anything extra now? You’ll have to live off guild bread and clothes from the lost bin.”

  “I’ll live. And so will you. As long as you don’t bother any more blacksmiths.”

  And that was why she was drawn to him. His sweet heart. His innocent love of beauty. His immediate willingness to open his heart and help a friend. He wasn’t like her. He didn’t think about right or wrong. But he cared about people.

  She saw him. The real him. And it was hard to be against someone who you could really see.

  She spun away from the intensity of the scene before her, following the thread back, back, back to the present. This time, she wouldn’t let the king spin her away from the scent of warm honey and cinnamon.

  20: Isle of Mer

  Tamerlan

  THIS PLACE HAS CHANGED, Abelmeyer said as they left the small rowboat from the barge. He was as tense as Tamerlan, every muscle bulging and ready for action. The smell of salt and wild winds swirled around them.

  In the dark, the Isle of Mer was hard to make out beyond jagged rocks and an unforgiving coastline, but Abelmeyer seemed to remember it. The burden of being driven by someone else was wearing on Tamerlan, but that hadn’t stopped him from smoking again a few hours ago, nursing the paper roll of spice as he leaned over the rail of the barge. Oddly, it seemed that it required his volition to do that. Abelmeyer hadn’t been able to do it himself.

  He hated that he was doing this. It felt like a kind of surrender to let the Legend take over his whole self. And he was letting him. That much was obvious. It wasn’t Abelmeyer who drew out the Spice and lit it and smoked. That had been Tamerlan – his only act of free will since he’d given over his body hours ago, but it was still his. And somehow that made it worse.

  It was his choice.

  But what other choice did he have? He’d tried to save Marielle in Jingen, only to have the city destroyed beneath them. He’d tried to redeem himself by saving H’yi and stopping the dragon the next time – and that had mired her in eternal imprisonment. She’d been right about that. He couldn’t redeem himself. He wasn’t even trying to anymore. He just didn’t want anyone else to suffer because of his choices. Not Marielle. Not Jhinn. Not anyone. And that meant smoking. It meant turning over his body to the Legends and letting them do all the things he was powerless to do on his own. Was that surrender, or was that volition?

  Anglarok kept glancing over at him with suspicion in his eyes. Could he smell the magic as Tamerlan drew it in?

  It turned his stomach to think about all the ways this could go wrong. But if he didn’t take the gamble, then nothing would go right, either. He would just have to hope – with what little hope he had left – that he could turn this around and somehow undo some of the tragedies he’d woven.

  Sweat beaded on his forehead from the strain of his thoughts and his belly twisted with the sharp pains of a mind troubled by worry.

  You destroy yourself from within. Learn to accept what can’t be changed. We are your only hope to turn this around. The more you fight us, the harder it will be to fix your mistakes.

  It would certainly be easier just to accept it all and surrender.

  You can trust me to guide you.

 
; And Abelmeyer hadn’t done anything wrong in his body. He’d helped him stop the dragon Jingen. He’d made a pact with the Harbingers rather than destroying them.

  Yes.

  So why did Tamerlan feel more and more knotted up inside as the hours of his possession passed?

  Be calm. We are almost at our goal.

  The passage on the ship had been uneventful. It should have been terrifying. The ships loomed high and sleek on either side as they passed between them. Tamerlan had been shocked at their size and height – like giants looming in the water- far taller than most buildings in the Five Cities – and carried together on the peaks of each foaming wave. Their hulls were outlined by strings of lights in the night. Calls, bells, and whistles spoke of a precise schedule and a disciplined crew.

  He’d been surprised by the air of alertness on the ships. Despite the darkness of night, they seemed ready to spring into action at a moment’s notice.

  “Are they always like that? Ready to pounce?” he had asked the Harbingers.

  Liandari had answered him. “They are ships of Queen Mer’s Retribution. We are proudly ready for anything.”

  Of course they were.

  Anglarok’s nose wrinkled as he scented from the rail, but he had watched in silence as they slid between the high ships. Tamerlan felt a creeping sensation as he played with the roll of Spice between his lips. There was something going on with these ships. They were not just waiting at anchor that night. There was a feeling about them like they were going to move. He didn’t believe that they were always like this. And he didn’t believe that they usually let barges slip between them with so little fuss. The ships had waved the barge through without even an inspection.

  He had drummed his fingers on the rail, deep in speculation.

  Etienne came to stand beside Tamerlan with a furrowed brow. He had a lit lantern which he held high in one hand while the book Tamerlan had found in the palace library of Yan was held in the other hand. He’d asked for it an hour before and his eyes had been glued to the pages ever since.

  “Did you read something that troubled you?” Abelmeyer asked in Tamerlan’s voice as he puffed out smoke.