by Bex Hogan
‘When they dragged me from the barrel the crew were watching. Surrounding me, like they were you. Your father stood in the middle with Dart, who looked confused. And then the Captain explained the final test. Only one of us would pass our Initiation – whichever one of us was still alive at the end of the fight.’
Oh.
‘At first we thought it was a trick. Maybe a joke. But it wasn’t.’ Bronn’s eyes flash with anger now. ‘I liked Dart, had taken him under my wing when he came aboard. And I had to kill him. With my bare hands. Like he was nothing more than an animal. I tried to make it quick for him. Snapped his neck. But I hated myself for it. Still do.’
I want to offer some comfort, but there’s none to give.
‘Afterwards your father took me to your cabin. You were asleep. And he told me that my weakness was getting attached to the wrong people. I had to show him I could sever those ties, and be loyal only to him. I’d proved I could do what was necessary with Dart. Now I had to give you up too. If I refused, then I’d go back in the barrel, this time with rocks for company. I was selfish. I chose to live. Passed my Initiation at the highest possible cost.’ He pauses, and his guilt is laid bare before me. ‘That day I pushed you overboard? Your father was watching. I don’t know if you saw him, but he was observing me. I went too far, so desperate to appear indifferent to you, and I have hated myself for it ever since. But it worked – for a while. Until the minute I shot that man on the Black Island. Then the Captain knew. He’d underestimated my feelings for you, and I’d overestimated my ability to hide them.’
His honesty hurts in every way. For years I’ve been so angry with him and now I understand why. Because I loved him as a child and never stopped. I should have known him better, should have seen what was happening, but I was as blind to that as to everything else around me. We’re both products of my father. Both of us broken into pieces and stuck back together all wrong.
I nod at his wrist, where the string bracelet has slipped into view again. ‘You kept it.’
‘Of course.’
I can feel the tears forming behind my eyes, an overwhelming sense of relief that I never lost my friend at all. And then I notice his expression, burdened by guilt and regret for all he’s done. How I wish he could have told me why we couldn’t be friends, spared me the pain of rejection and humiliation. But I understand why he had to be cruel. Because I wouldn’t have accepted it any other way; I loved him too much. It is not him I blame, not any more. It is my father.
‘Do you remember when we were young and you used to sneak into my cabin during a storm? You’d lie on the floor beneath my hammock and when I reached my hand down you’d take it, holding it until I fell asleep?’
Bronn nods, a nostalgic smile forming at the memory.
‘Every night since your Initiation, I’ve reached my hand down for you. I will always reach out for you.’
But he’s the one who gently takes my hand in his. His eyes meet mine, and they seem to overflow with sadness. So many wasted years, our unhappiness the price of his survival.
‘Looks like I’m stuck with you after all,’ I say, cautiously hoping I’m right, and that he’s not planning to leave us once we’re safely ashore.
‘Looks like it.’ It’s as much commitment as he’s going to give, but this time I believe it. He’s starting to shed his Snake skin.
I rest my head on his shoulder, and fall asleep with my hand still in his, stirring slightly when he swaps with Grace during the night, the loss of his touch suddenly exposing me to the bitter air. It’s dawn when Bronn wakes me for my stint at the helm and I’m shivering, still cold from yesterday’s soaking.
‘Any sign of the Maiden?’
‘None.’ Bronn doesn’t sound pleased, though.
‘You think that means he’s decided not to come after us?’ It doesn’t make any sense.
‘I’m not sure what it means, but it’s nothing good. I think we should keep going.’
I stare at him in surprise. ‘What about the mast? Shouldn’t we find a better ship?’
‘I think landing’s too much of a gamble. If he’s decided not to hunt us down, your father will have spies on the lookout. We don’t want to risk being seen. Besides, this mast is holding. I say we stay our course.’
He’s right, there’s definitely something suspicious about my father’s absence, and yet I’m relieved not to have to try to escape from the Maiden. And honestly, if Bronn thinks he can get this boat to the Sixth in one piece, I trust him to do that.
‘OK, if Grace agrees, I’m happy. But can we risk going a little closer to shore? There are plenty of other things out here as dangerous as the Viper.’ A merbeast could swallow us whole if we’re unlucky enough to stray into its path.
‘Agreed.’
Neither of us says anything about last night, but before he goes to rest he slips a blanket round my shoulders and the gesture warms me every bit as much as the thick wool.
The next few days pass without any incident. The three of us fall into an easy routine, taking it in turns to sail then rest, surviving on raw fish and seaweed caught in a net from one of the chests.
None of the conversations of the first day are revisited, all of us too tired to do much beyond survive, but Bronn and I are rarely far from each other’s sides, a sort of unspoken intimacy returning to our relationship that is mirrored in our physical proximity. We find excuses to touch, a brush of skin here, a grazing of fingers there, and the thrill of his closeness astonishes me. I hadn’t realised how strongly I’d missed him all these years.
To her credit Grace makes no comment, although on one particularly clear day with the unforgiving sun beating down on us, she sits beside me during Bronn’s shift.
‘You seem cheerier.’
I laugh. ‘We’re on the run, facing a hopeless mission. What could I possibly be cheery about?’
Grace nods pointedly in Bronn’s direction. ‘He used to ask me, you know. How you were, if you were happy. Never able to forget you no matter how hard he tried.’
I attempt to hide the delight threatening to turn me giddy and feign indifference. ‘Oh?’
Her face breaks into a smile. ‘Yes, oh.’ And then instantly the smile is gone. ‘What is that?’
She’s looking beyond me and I turn to see what’s concerned her. Smoke is filling the sky in the distance, thick and black.
Bronn’s seen it too and he’s squinting in disbelief. ‘It can’t be.’
But it is and I think I’m going to be sick.
The Floral Island is on fire.
We immediately change course to make for land, and the closer we get the greater the horror. The fire is spreading from the west and heading in our direction, preceded by a crowd of islanders all desperately fleeing to the sea. Flames are destroying the island, homes and livelihoods being obliterated in heartbeats, and it’s all too clear there aren’t enough boats.
‘We have to help them.’
Bronn frowns at me. He doesn’t believe this is a natural fire any more than I do. ‘It’s a trap, Marianne.’
I shake my head. ‘No, it’s not. He’s taunting me. He said he’d make them suffer – said he’d make them beg for death. This is it, this is his way of punishing me.’
‘All the more reason not to go,’ Grace says gently, and I know they’re trying to protect me, probably with good cause, but I don’t care.
‘He’s wiping out an entire island, Grace.’
‘They’re already as good as dead,’ Bronn says. ‘We should keep going.’
I stare at him. His indifference is a painful reminder that despite all our feelings for each other we’re very different people. It hurts more than I expected.
‘There is no way I’m standing by and simply watching.’ My voice is soft but deadly. I am not asking.
Bronn and Grace exchange a look.
‘All right, you win. What do you want to do?’ Though Bronn sounds far from enthusiastic, I’m relieved not to have to argue any further.
‘We’ll assess the situation when we’re closer. But at the very least there’s room on our boat for islanders.’ Not many, though. Not enough.
What awaits us is chaos. The screams and frantic cries of fear can be heard long before we land, and with the heat at their backs I’m not surprised. The fire is charging hungrily towards the shore and the survivors are running out of safe ground. People inland will have struggled to escape at all. I think of Joren’s little cottage and a knot of sickness forms in my throat. I hate my father and his sick depravity. This is a new low even for him.
‘Stay with the boat,’ I say to Grace as we pull up alongside the jetty. ‘Or we’ll never see it again. Get as many as you can on board – children first – and then pull away. Bronn and I will catch up with you later.’
‘What are you going to do?’
‘I’m going to stop him,’ I say, and as soon as we’re close enough I jump ashore.
The smoke in the air is overpowering, and it stings my eyes and irritates my throat before I’ve taken more than a few steps. Panic has tightly gripped this peninsula, fear rendering people senseless, so I look about for anyone who might be in charge, my eyes falling on a group of women who are helping injured people make it to the sea. I run over to join them.
‘I have a boat,’ I say to get their attention, and point in its direction. ‘My friend is ready to take as many on board as we can.’
The oldest of the women, her hair as white as her skin, glances over to where Grace is already lifting children aboard. ‘Thank you.’
‘How did this start?’
‘I don’t know . . .’ she says before trailing off.
Bronn has come to stand beside me and perhaps it’s because we’re together but the woman seems to have realised we’re in Snake clothing.
‘This is my friend,’ I say, hoping to convince her we mean no harm. ‘We’re here to help.’
The woman gives me her full attention now, her startling red eyes brimming with anger. ‘They’re saying people are attacking our settlements. They say they’re burning our crops to the ground.’ She glares at Bronn. ‘People like you.’
‘We are no longer in the Viper’s service.’
She considers me with a fiery gaze. ‘Then stop them destroying what’s left of our home.’ And then she’s done with me, returning her focus to helping her kin.
I tug at Bronn’s sleeve pulling him to one side. ‘We need to find them – if they’re still here, we can stop them doing more damage.’
‘Or they can catch you.’
‘There’s a time for running. This isn’t it.’
I see something flash in his eyes – a spark of respect? Or affection? Either way, he abandons his futile attempts to dissuade me and switches into fighting mode. ‘They’re still here – probably in groups, and I wouldn’t be surprised if there are bandits as well as Snakes. They must be fuelling the fire for it to burn so ferociously. If it were me, I’d be staying close to the sea to avoid getting trapped, and feeding it from the outside in. Given how close the fire is I doubt they’re far away.’
An explosion in the distance shudders through the ground, and as people around us scream Bronn and I exchange glances.
‘Gunpowder.’
‘He’s pulling out all the stops,’ Bronn says, almost impressed.
Father certainly is making a statement. ‘We should split up. Less likely they’ll see us coming.’
‘I’ll go south, you take north. Be safe.’
And to my complete astonishment he leans forward to brush a light kiss on to my good cheek before he’s off, shielding his face from the smoke as he takes the long route round the island.
There isn’t time to linger and I start my own sprint towards danger. No one else is running in this direction, and I have to weave to avoid the people fleeing the fire as I plunge head first into its path. As I get closer to the blaze I see more and more injured people struggling to flee, and one man hurtles past me, clothes alight, his screams of agony unbearable. I shout at him to drop and roll on the ground, but he’s beyond hearing. He stumbles and falls, and I run over to him, not sure how I can help, yet unable to leave him to suffer alone. But by the time I reach him his screams have stopped and his eyes are open and empty. At least he can no longer feel the flames devouring his flesh. No one should have to endure such a horrific death, and I’m more determined than ever to stop my father as I head towards the woodland that separates the meadows from the sea. From this angle I can see the wood conceals a small river, the end of which runs directly back towards the ocean. If I wanted to stay safe while fuelling this monster, then I would definitely be keeping close to a water source.
The moment I enter the trees an eerie silence falls. The screams are dulled by the dense nature of the branches and leaves, and the smell of smoke and burning flesh has only vaguely penetrated the sheltered atmosphere. My knife is firmly in my hand as I creep silently into the heart of the wood, tracing the bank of the river – I’m certain I’m not alone.
The sun is at its height in the clear sky and it’s fiercely hot even in the shade of the trees, though I suspect a large part of the heat is the wall of fire heading this way. When it hits this woodland it’ll devour it quickly, so I want to be long gone by then.
In the corner of my eye I catch a flicker of movement and press myself up against the nearest tree. Slowly I peer round and see one of the Maiden’s crew walking boldly towards me, pouring fluid from the barrel he carries. How my father convinced the Snakes this venture was worth sacrificing their supply of rum for I have no idea.
I watch for a moment, weighing up the best time to strike, and then with a sinking heart realise it’s Gustav, a boy only a year older than me. I don’t know him well – all I know is his name and that he doesn’t have friends – but if I have to take another life, there’s no way it’s going to be him. I slide my knife back into my belt. Grace has taught me well in unarmed combat and I know how to take down an enemy without killing him.
As Gustav passes my tree I strike. I bring one arm firmly into his gut, winding him, and before he can even blink I hit him hard under the chin with the heel of my palm, snapping his head back and rendering him unconscious. It’s all over in an instant, and despite the horror of being on a burning island I’m relieved. I stayed in control. No darkness, no flashbacks. I crouch down to check his pulse. He should come round in time to flee the fire.
I’m about to stand up when a cold and very sharp blade presses on my neck.
‘Well, well. This is a pleasant surprise.’
Of all the men my father might have assigned to this mission I wasn’t expecting Cleeve to be one of them, and the pride I’d felt after my quick defeat of Gustav evaporates. This won’t be so easy. He’ll be wanting to finish what he started on the skerry-cutter.
The blade at my neck is drawing blood, but nothing life-threatening. He just doesn’t want me to run. He hauls me to my feet by grabbing my hair and slams me against the tree, his arm wedged under my chin, causing me to choke. He pulls my knife out from my belt and throws it far from my reach.
‘I’d rather hoped you’d drowned in the fiords,’ I manage to hiss, though it isn’t easy to speak when I can barely breathe.
My ‘uncle’ gives me a leering smile. ‘Now, now. You know you’ve missed me.’
‘Like the plague.’
‘Your father can’t wait to have you back home. You have no idea the welcome he has planned for you.’
His breath is foul and it’s not helping the lack of air situation. I need to break his hold on me, or I’m going to black out. ‘Think I’ll pass.’
Cleeve laughs. He’s enjoying my retorts, relishes the game. ‘He’s promised us all a turn to show you how much you mean to us. Milligan’s claimed first go and is most excited. Says she never did finish teaching you all she could, and you were such a willing student.’
The prospect of being Milligan’s plaything is the stuff of nightmares. I have to get out
of here. Now.
My knee slams hard into his groin, causing him to loosen his grip enough for me to break free, but he’s only stalled for a second and grabs me back immediately, harder, his eyes bright with bloodlust. All I’ve done is whet his appetite.
It’s now or never. Fight or die. And so I whip my leg up, striking out with my foot and catching him in the neck. He releases me and before he can grasp me again I immediately bring my hand round in a fist to his stomach. He stumbles backwards, the attack taking him by surprise, but he rallies quickly, parrying my blows, until he’s back in control of the fight and I’m the one blocking him.
My eyes rest on my knife lying discarded in the dirt. I try to manoeuvre us closer to where it lies, hoping to snatch it up and give myself a chance. But then Cleeve realises what I’m doing and roars with fury.
He’s through playing games; my retaliation has angered and humiliated him, and he lands a strike clean across my face, then pushes me into the river before I can regain my balance. It’s not deep, in fact, I’m only submerged because I’m lying flat, but panic makes me irrational. Air becomes the only important thing in the world. But the moment I break the surface and inhale deeply, his lethal hands have hold of me and are groping every inch of my body as I kick, bite and writhe – anything to fight him off. He has the advantage, though, and pins me to the riverbed, straddling my chest, holding my head above water, with his knife at my throat so I’m forced to stay still.
‘You think you’re a match for me? Your father’s only stipulation is that you’re returned alive. He never said you had to be in one piece. Milligan will be disappointed, but then I never did like her much.’
Cleeve looks fondly at the gash he previously marked my face with, and leans forward to lick it. I try again to pull away, but it’s impossible. He grazes the blade to and fro on my neck, sliding it down over my collarbone, his skin glistening with sweat as he focuses on the prize he’s about to claim. I wonder what part of me he’ll remove first. A fingernail perhaps, to build up slowly? Or maybe he’ll take the whole hand to leave an indelible mark.