by Bex Hogan
But he takes nothing, because at that moment he topples forward and I’m smothered by his weight, going under the water again. Frantically I push him off me and manage to sit up, only to see an axe protruding from the back of his head.
My saviour stands over me and once I recognise who it is my gratitude is replaced by renewed fear. Ren. The boatswain is well known for his loyalty to his fellow Snakes. For him to have killed Cleeve can only mean that he wants to present me to my father himself. When he offers his hand to pull me up, I ignore it, unsure of his intentions, and scramble to my feet myself. He retrieves his axe from Cleeve’s limp body, kicking him hard. ‘Piece of filth.’
‘What are you doing?’ If he means to harm me, I may as well find out sooner rather than later.
‘Saving your skin.’ He grabs a handful of grass and wipes the blood from the blade. ‘The fire has already entered the woodland; it’s only minutes away from here. There’s gunpowder scattered all over this area. You need to run.’
I’m stunned into silence, confused and relieved all at once. He turns to leave but I grab hold of his sleeve. ‘Wait. Why are you telling me this? Why help me?’
‘Because you stood up for my boy. Against this scum.’ He spits towards Cleeve.
I have no idea what he’s talking about, but then it hits me. ‘Toby?’
‘He’s my son. And this rat’s made his life a misery.’ He swings his axe over his shoulder, watching me closely. ‘I’m not the only man aboard who’d switch his allegiance should the right person challenge the Captain.’
It takes me a moment to realise what he means and when I do I can scarcely believe it. ‘Are you saying I have your allegiance?’
He stares at me a while longer before spitting once more. ‘Try to stay alive.’ And then he’s off, running towards the coast to escape the approaching furnace, and the only company I have is Cleeve, whose blood is turning the river red. The sight of his mangled head is pretty nasty. Still, the approaching crackle of burning leaves means he’ll soon be cremated by his own fire, and if I don’t want to join him I’m going to have to hurry.
A twig snaps and my eyes dart up to see Gustav pause in mid-run. He takes in the scene: me standing over Cleeve’s butchered body. If I let him go, he’ll tell my father. But there’s no time to fight him without risking the blaze. My hands twitch in anticipation, wondering what Gustav will choose to do. Our gaze is locked and I realise he’s thinking the same thing as me – that if we stay we’ll both be engulfed by a fire that kills regardless of whose side you’re on. He makes the decision first and almost trips over himself as he flees towards the sea.
I’m not going to argue, and hurtle back the way I came, no longer making any effort to be quiet. There’s no halting this fire now. It’s self-feeding, hungrily consuming the flowers and woodlands that made this island so beautiful, turning it to ash.
I’ve failed. The first time I tried to take on my father, and I couldn’t stop him. Couldn’t protect the island any more than I could protect Tomas. Couldn’t defend the flowers any more than I could defend Joren. Couldn’t save the people any more than I could save Clara.
Maybe Bronn was right. Maybe I shouldn’t have come here.
The force of another explosion nearby throws me to the ground and with my ears ringing I clamber back to my feet and press on.
As I near the shore where we landed, I come across a small family making their escape far too slowly. The youngest child is struggling to carry a mangy hound, and refusing to leave it behind despite her mother’s pleas.
‘There are ships waiting, but you have to go faster,’ I shout at them as I approach, hoping it’s still true. ‘Let me carry the dog.’
I reach out my arms and the child considers me, weighing up whether I’m trustworthy. I don’t wait for her to decide, and snatch the dog. ‘Run!’
I only glance back long enough to see them in pursuit, the father now carrying the child who just wants to catch up with her beloved companion. Whether or not there’ll be any space for them on a boat still remains to be seen. It wouldn’t surprise me if the ships had all gone, leaving the remaining islanders to their fate.
So when I reach the brow of the hill and see the cove beneath me I pause in disbelief.
Four large ships are anchored offshore, smaller boats ferrying people to them with organised urgency. Though the flags flying leave little doubt, I can’t quite believe it. They’re from the King’s Fleet.
The family overtaking me reminds me to keep moving and I run so fast down the hill I almost lose my footing. When I reach the bottom, my lungs burning from the exertion, I reunite the girl with her dog and point them towards the orderly gathering.
‘Go, quickly, someone will get you to safety,’ I say, and once they’re gone I cast around for any sign of Bronn.
My eyes fall on someone else instead.
Looking as gorgeous as the day we met, his unkempt appearance only improving on perfection, my fiancé is helping an elderly couple towards the boats. Well, that explains the presence of the King’s Fleet then. As if he can sense my eyes on him, Torin looks up and meets my gaze.
His lack of confusion upon seeing me suggests he’s already found Grace and I raise my arm in greeting as I run towards him.
The warm embrace he gives me is utterly unexpected. ‘Grace said you went after Adler’s men? I was worried.’
I think of Cleeve, his breath on my face as he threatened to mutilate me, and hate to admit his worry was nearly justified. How can I expect to take my father down if I couldn’t even handle Cleeve? Instead I ignore my anxieties and say, ‘What are you doing here?’
‘I got your message and thought it would be best to sail out to meet you. Just as well, or we wouldn’t have got here in time.’ He pauses, his eyes lingering with concern on my cut cheek and the fresh mark on my neck. ‘It’s good to see you, Marianne.’ And he seems wholeheartedly genuine.
‘You too.’ Which is quite probably the biggest understatement I’ve ever made.
But there’s no time for anything more as one of Torin’s men runs up to us, staring at me suspiciously as he does so. I recognise him immediately as the bodyguard who accompanied Torin on the day of our engagement. He seems no happier to see me today than he did then.
‘We need to hurry, sir,’ he says. ‘The island’s lost.’
Torin nods his agreement. ‘Marianne, this is Sharpe, my most loyal commander.’
‘It’s a pleasure to meet you,’ I say but he doesn’t return the sentiment.
‘Sir?’
‘Right, come on.’
‘Wait,’ I say, looking around. ‘Where’s Grace?’
‘She’s safe,’ Torin replies. ‘Helping people on to my ship. I’ll take you to her.’
Torin’s hand rests on my back as we jog over to urge the remaining people on to boats, but my eyes are still scanning for Bronn. The fire will reach us soon, and his absence is making me nervous. If he doesn’t show up quickly, he’s not showing up at all.
‘Were there many others behind you?’ Torin asks me and I shake my head.
‘This is it, from this part of the island anyway.’
We share a grim expression. The death toll will undoubtedly be high.
‘We’ll make him pay for this,’ Torin says, and despite the circumstances something inside me lifts. Though there’s still so much I don’t know about this man, he came to help. Which is more than his father was prepared to do. It’s the first glimmer of hope I’ve had in the longest time.
Everybody’s on a boat now, only one boat remaining for us. Sharpe boards, followed by Torin, but I hesitate.
Torin holds out his hand and when I don’t take it he frowns. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘Bronn’s out there.’
An understanding passes between us as Torin comprehends that Bronn is someone important to me. ‘We’ll wait.’
‘Sir!’ Sharpe objects.
‘I said we wait.’
I nod my thanks to him,
then turn anxiously round. Black smoke stretches high as if it hopes to obliterate the sun, and the air is increasingly hard to breathe. Or perhaps it’s just my heart struggling to beat properly as worry fully takes hold. I can’t lose Bronn, I can’t. I’ve only just found him again.
Minutes pass. Nothing. Only the shrieking of gulls overhead and the roar of the approaching inferno.
Torin touches my shoulder. ‘Marianne, we have to go.’
I ignore him, staring, willing Bronn to show up. I’m not leaving without him.
‘If your father decides to come and join us, we’re all going to die,’ Torin says, trying to pull me towards him, and I hate that he’s right.
‘Bronn!’ I scream his name into the air, hoping he’ll hear me. ‘Bronn!’
‘He’s not coming.’ Torin is gentler this time.
Tears that have nothing to do with the smoke prick my eyes, and when I see the blurry image I think I must be imagining it. But I’m not.
Bronn is struggling towards us, a body slung over each shoulder. I sprint towards him, Torin close behind me, and when we reach him Bronn drops to his knees so that he can unload one of his passengers for Torin to take. The unconscious man is badly burned, and Torin quickly scoops him into his arms.
‘What happened?’ I ask.
‘Found Davies and Roach.’
I know Bronn was friendly with both of them, and won’t have taken any pleasure in their deaths. ‘I’m sorry.’
He doesn’t react. ‘Picked up these two on my way back, and they slowed me down.’
Take two lives, save two others. Perhaps that’s how Bronn deals with killing.
We don’t talk any more; there’ll be time for that later. Now our only focus is on getting off this doomed island. As soon as we’re all in the boat Sharpe begins to row us away.
Once I know we’re safe from the fire, exhaustion hits me hard and I lean against Bronn’s shoulder. He takes my hand, but his fingers pause as they run over my wrist, over my burn. I catch Torin looking briefly before he turns away and realise this could get complicated.
I close my eyes. It’s the least of my worries. The Fourth Isle has been destroyed in the cruellest attack in the history of the Twelve Isles. All trace of Joren’s fields will be gone, his beloved crops reduced to ash, and my chest aches with grief. It hurts like I’ve lost them all over again, an agony I can hardly bear.
What’s more, not only did I fail to stop the crew, Gustav will report that I murdered Cleeve when he returns to the Maiden.
If my father was angry before, this will only fuel his rage. The Fourth Isle was just the beginning. What worries me now is what he’s going to do next.
There was a time mere weeks ago when I’d hoped never to return to the Sixth Isle, but after the journey to get here even the ominous low clouds and deadly rocks look inviting. Though Torin’s frigate is vast by any standard, in some ways it has felt smaller than our little skerry-cutter.
After we left the Fourth to burn – its once vibrant colours now turned to black, any remaining magic that lingered there purged – we transported our refugees to the Sixth, while the other three ships from the King’s Fleet took passengers to the Second, Th ird and Fifth Isles. Given the fragile state of all the islands, more displaced people will only add to the burden.
I’ve spent the best part of the journey tending to the wounded. The ship’s surgeon, glad of my assistance, provided me with various tonics and an abundance of second-salve to administer to the injured. Unsurprisingly there are many burns of varying degrees, and the second-salve especially has been well used. I try not to think about how many vital medicinal ingredients have been lost to the flames, and the long-term impact that might have on the Isles. From now on I shall have to be frugal with certain supplies, but at least the invasive black bramble that farmers on the Fallow Island cut and sell to be used for second-salve is in no danger of running out.
It’s been good to have something to keep me occupied because all that awaits me otherwise are difficult conversations and awkward situations.
The night we joined Torin on the ship he had invited me to dine with him in his quarters – a dinner that, to my relief, was entirely different to the one I’d had with his father. We’d spoken of many things. I’d told him all that had happened since our binding ceremony, and why I had been coming to find him.
‘I want to know if you’ll do what your father is too afraid to?’ I’d asked, thinking it was wisest to get straight to the point, and feeling far too tired for anything other than complete honesty.
Torin had downed a large mouthful of rum. ‘There’s one important thing you need to know about me,’ he’d said, leaning forward to fix me with his earnest gaze. ‘I am nothing like my father.’
‘Likewise.’
‘Do you know why I came to your ship? Allowed myself to be bound to you?’
I’d considered him closely. ‘Honestly? No. I know nothing about you beyond rumours.’
He’d smiled, not a false one like he’d had when surrounded by enemy crew, but a real one. It was open and warm and lovely. ‘Ah, yes, the rumours. Last I heard I was a snivelling coward hiding away from danger.’ He’d shrugged, unbothered by the implication. ‘My father and I aren’t close, you see, so people talk.’
I knew enough about complicated father–child relationships to guess that was a massive understatement.
‘Is that why you schemed with my father to marry me? To get back at the King?’ I’d wanted him to know I was aware of his duplicity. I’d wanted to know what explanation he had.
‘I came because I was furious with my father. His Viper was attacking our ships and killing our men, and though the Fleet belongs to my father in name it’s always been my dream to captain it. My father has forbidden any such thing, denying me any future I might actually desire, but it doesn’t change the fact that I’m the one who’s grown up training with them, who sails with them. Without us there’s no one to monitor the trading channels, maintain law and order among the many people who rely on safe passage from isle to isle. And when they were being attacked my father did nothing, made plans only to protect himself, while our men, my friends, were dying. While the islands were put at risk. So when your father contacted me suggesting our union, I decided what better opportunity to find out for myself what was going on than an invitation to the Viper’s table. It’s a rare thing indeed.’
I’d bristled slightly at the thought that he was there spying on us, yet another person playing the game while I knew none of the rules. ‘And did you learn everything you hoped to?’ I’d heard the bite in my voice.
‘Not everything,’ he’d said. ‘But I found something unexpected. You.’
When I’d frowned at him he’d added, ‘I’d imagined you to be working with your father, but instead I found a bird in a cage desperate to fly. I hoped then that we could become allies – in time.’
‘Time is no longer a luxury we possess.’
‘I agree. But we’re both here now, are we not?’ He’d given me another of his warm smiles, and I wasn’t sure I’d ever get used to such transparency – his willingness to reveal himself to me. ‘Look,’ Torin had continued, ‘your father orchestrated our marriage to try to achieve power. I went along with it for information. But that was then.’
‘So you think we should sever the promise between us?’ I’d tried hard to keep the hope from my voice. Because though I’m fast growing to like Torin, he has one flaw. He’s not Bronn.
‘On the contrary,’ Torin had said. ‘I think together we could reunite land and sea.’
This time I’d failed to mask my disappointment. ‘Surely we can do that without getting married?’
Torin had reached his hand across the table and taken mine. ‘Our duty never leaves us, no matter how greatly we disappoint our fathers. The islands, the people – they have never been in greater need of a strong show of power. After all that has been done, I believe only a marriage will be enough to restore their faith in t
he King and his Viper. And only if we two assume those titles.’
I’d known he was right, of course. I’d always known it. I’d just hoped . . .
‘I’m not asking you to love me,’ he’d said with a small smile. ‘I know when a heart is already spoken for.’
I’d hated how easily I blushed. ‘And what of your heart?’
Then it had been his turn to look away. ‘I lost it to another a long time ago, to a person my father disapproved of. Our union wasn’t in accordance with my duty.’ There had been so much bitterness in those words that I couldn’t help but feel sympathy for him. But I’d also been intrigued as to who had claimed his affections and why the King had forbidden their match. For all his honesty he hadn’t been willing to share that with me. Instead he’d looked up at me with shining eyes. ‘This is bigger than either of us, Marianne. Our desires, they’re irrelevant. Only the future of the Eastern Isles matters.’
I’d nodded, crushing my sadness with necessary resolve. ‘Then we overthrow our fathers and restore peace.’
‘I’ll drink to that.’ And he’d raised his glass.
But what had seemed so simple in the privacy of his quarters was less so when confronted with Bronn. He’d sought me out later that same night when I was lying on deck watching the stars.
Wordlessly he’d lain down beside me, just as he had when we were young, and for the longest time we stayed like that in silence.
‘You’re going to marry him.’ It hadn’t been a question.
‘Yes.’
‘It’s the right thing to do.’ His resignation was barely audible, but hearing it made my heart ache.
‘Just the small matter of stopping both our fathers first.’ I’d tried to make a joke about the least funny thing ever.
‘You’re going to have to kill him, you know.’
I’d turned to look at Bronn, the lanterns illuminating his cheekbones and brow, the rest of his face lost in shadow.
‘Who?’
‘Adler. He’ll never allow himself to be captured.’
I’d said nothing, a worm of unease burrowing into my chest. ‘You don’t know that.’