“Don’t talk like that. You have to survive, and you have to come back to me,” she said fiercely, staring into his eyes. “Promise me.”
“I promise.”
She kissed him. Fen returned the kiss, letting himself melt into the moment.
How long they stood there he didn’t know, but then Cowley was clearing his throat. “Sorry, Fen, Ravin. But if we wait any longer I think Noah is going to kill Ely and then…”
Ravin looked up at Fen. “I’m getting awfully tired of saying goodbye to you.”
“It does seem to happen a lot,” he said, trying his best to smile.
“Be careful.”
“I think the time to do that passed a long time ago.”
“I know,” she said, fighting back the tears. Fen felt tears in his eyes too. “But I don’t know what else to say.”
“Once we’re gone, you should be able to return to the palace safely. When I get back, I’ll come find you there.”
“I’m holding you to that.”
╬ ╬ ╬
“No weapons,” Ely said. Noah was tucking his long knife away, and they were getting ready to follow the former sergeant into the growing twilight.
“That’s what you’d like, isn’t it?” Noah sneered. “You want us helpless.”
“I do like the sound of that,” Ely replied. “But if you want to get onto that ship tomorrow, you better not have a weapon on you. You think they won’t search you first?” His smile was triumphant. “What do you think they’d do to you if they found you carrying that?”
Noah started to fire back at Ely when Cowley intervened. “I hate to agree with this traitor on anything, but he’s right. You can’t bring that. It’s too risky.”
“We’re going to be helpless,” Noah protested.
“I think that’s what being a slave means,” Cowley replied.
“Speak for yourself,” Strout told the smaller man. “See these?” He pointed to his biceps. “I’m never helpless.”
Seeing that no one was going to come to his aid, Noah pulled the knife out of his belt. Grumbling under his breath, he walked back to the door of the temple, where Ravin was standing, and handed the knife to her. “Keep it close,” he warned her. “Don’t trust a one of them.”
“One last thing,” Ely said to Fen. “The king said it’s the most important. You’re not to use your power, no matter what happens. Not even a whisper, hear? Because if you do, the Ichthalids and the sorcerers will notice for sure, and then the game is up.”
“You don’t need to tell me that,” Fen said. “I know.”
They followed Ely down the street. “Let’s see, we’re going to sneak on board the enemy ship disguised as slaves, which means we’ll be locked up with the slaves, and unarmed like the slaves. But somehow, we’re going to save the world. Does this strike anyone else as the dumbest plan ever?” Cowley asked no one in particular.
“We’re a bunch of bloody idiots,” Strout agreed.
“I wonder what Sergeant Flint would say if he could see us right now,” Lukas said.
“Dumbest soldiers I ever trained,” Noah said. “That’s what he’d say.”
“He won’t get any argument from me,” Gage said.
Fen listened to their banter with only half an ear. He knew their talk was only a way to cover up the anxiety they were all feeling, now that they were actually going through with this. He didn’t feel good about it either, but mostly he was feeling heartbroken from saying goodbye to Ravin. They’d barely gotten back together, and here he was already taking off again. The chances of him returning weren’t good, to say the least. Any of hundreds of things could go wrong. Even if they somehow survived all that was coming, there was no guarantee they would be able to find a way back across the sea. The ships might be destroyed, or there might be no one left who knew how to sail them.
All of which his squad mates knew. It was why they bantered. It was better than despair.
They were near the docks, and it was nearly dark when Ely held up his hand for them to stop. He peered around a corner, then turned to them. “The warehouse they use to hold the slaves is across the way. I’ll go first and make sure our man is working at the door. When I whistle once, you come. On the double. I don’t want any patrols to see you. It will raise questions none of us can answer.”
He rounded the corner and disappeared.
“I hope whatever happens that I at least get to kill that guy,” Noah said. “That would make everything okay, I think.”
A whistle came out of the darkness, and they ran across the street. Ely was standing next to another soldier who was holding open a heavy wooden door.
“Have a great trip,” Ely said to them mockingly, as they filed past him into the dark interior of the warehouse. “I’m sure you’ll love Qarath. Don’t drown or anything before you—”
His words cut off as Strout punched him hard in stomach on the way by. He sagged to his knees, and Noah kicked him in the head, knocking him sprawling.
“That was pretty satisfying,” Noah said as the door swung shut behind them. “Sometimes you have good ideas, Strout.”
The room they found themselves in was large, and dimly lit by candles. Fen was shocked at how few people there were in there, no more than a couple score, all huddled in small groups scattered across the room. Was this all that were left after the thousands that had been taken from Marad? The thought sickened him. How many had died to open the portal that allowed the Ichthalids to come through? How many had died to power the chaos magic the sorcerers used? How many had died building the ships?
And to think he had once looked on them as the enemy.
The slaves looked at the newcomers, but their expressions were dull, and none spoke to them. These were people who had seen their lives utterly destroyed. Details beyond pure survival no longer interested them.
The squad found themselves a spot in one corner and arranged themselves for sleep. “I hope Ely doesn’t get himself killed before I get a chance to,” Noah said.
“I hope you shut up, so I can get some sleep,” Strout said.
“I’m too wound up to sleep.”
“Keep yapping, and I’ll help you with that,” Strout said.
“Shut up, both of you,” Cowley said. “I want to lie here and think about my untimely demise. I haven’t decided if I’d rather drown at sea or be fried by one of the Devourers.”
“I’d like to go in the arms of a tavern wench,” Lukas said.
Cowley sat up, his expression incredulous. “Did you just say what I thought you did?”
“So?”
Cowley shook his head and lay back down. “Now I know we’ve reached the end of the world. When Lukas says something like that, the whole world has turned upside down.” Lukas was very shy around girls, and in the past when talk of tavern wenches had come up, he’d always been upset by it, often trying to get the others to stop what they were saying.
“You’re an idiot, Cowley,” Lukas said.
“An idiot surrounded by idiots,” Cowley said.
“Why are you still talking?” Strout said.
“It helps me relax,” Cowley replied. “It’ll help you too, if you stop fighting it.”
Strout growled at him.
Chapter 27
Morning came early. It was still mostly dark when the door swung open, and a soldier entered, banging two pots against each other and yelling at the slaves to get up and line up.
“Keep your heads down,” Fen warned as they moved to join the line. “Don’t look anyone in the eye.”
As it turned out, Fen didn’t need to worry. The soldiers guarding them expected to see slaves, and that was what they saw. As they moved out into the predawn light, one of the soldiers jabbed Fen in the shoulder. Fen turned and for a moment looked straight into the man’s eyes. He realized that he knew this soldier. He’d patrolled with him, eaten in the mess hall with him. The man had gone along when they raided the Maradi village and took all its people prisoner.
He winced, waiting for the look of surprise. But instead there was nothing. The man looked at him coldly. “Pick that up,” he said, pointing at the ground. “I don’t want to be tripping over your garbage.”
Fen looked down and saw that it was the scarf that Ravin had given him, what seemed like a lifetime ago, when he marched off to war against Marad. Fen bent and retrieved it.
The sun was nearing the horizon as they reached the docks. There was a light, cool breeze coming off the sea. Seagulls wheeled overhead, crying their interminable song. The ships loomed over them, somehow larger now, riding easily on the light chop, waves lapping against their hulls.
The docks were a hive of activity. Sailors and soldiers hustled about, carrying crates, wheeling barrels. A man hurried by carrying a thick coil of rope. Another had a bundle of spears over his shoulder. Two men were carrying a slat-sided box with chickens in it. The birds stared incuriously at the morning with their beady eyes.
The soldiers marched them through the crowd, one in the lead calling out to make way. The pier the soldier led them toward had two ships moored at it, one of the new ships and the black ship that had first brought the Ankharan sorcerers to Samkara. Fen remembered the night he and his squad had gone down into the bowels of that ship. Was the huge, glowing orb still down there? What was that thing anyway?
In contrast to the three new ships, which had men scurrying all over them in preparation for leaving, the black ship was deserted except for the three hulking figures of the Ichthalids, who stood on the foredeck, arms crossed, watching the activity closely. Fen felt a sudden chill at the sight and hoped they were not being taken to that ship. If he was penned up that close to the Ichthalids, they would be sure to notice him.
It was a relief when the soldier led them to the other ship. A gangplank led from the pier to the ship, men streaming across it, carrying last-minute stores. Ankharan sailors scurried about in the rigging, securing lines, beginning to unfurl sails.
Their boots sounded hollowly on the gangplank. Standing by the railing, watching the slaves intently, was Maphothet. Fen tensed when he saw him. Would the sorcerer see through his disguise? He slumped his shoulders even more and kept his face turned down, trying his best to appear as nothing more than yet another broken slave.
But it wasn’t working. Though he didn’t look up, as he drew near, he could feel the man’s eyes on him. Any moment now he would demand a halt, and then he would be discovered. Tentatively, he reached for Stone power. If he would die here, it would not be without a fight.
Then he heard Lowellin’s voice. “Sorcerer, I need to speak with you.”
Fen risked a glance and saw Lowellin near the stern, gesturing at Maphothet. The sorcerer gave Fen one last look, then turned and made his way to where Lowellin was waiting impatiently. In front of him, Fen heard Cowley breathe a sigh of relief.
“That was too close,” he said softly.
They were led to a hatch amidships. Wooden steps led down into the dim interior of the hold. As the slaves began to make their weary way down, Fen turned to look at the city that had been his home for his entire life. It was all achingly familiar and precious to him. He wondered if he would ever see it again.
“Here now, no dawdling. We’ve a schedule to keep,” a soldier said, prodding Fen to keep moving.
Fen lowered his head and made his way below. The deck just below had been partitioned off at each end by thick, iron grates, forming two cells. The cell in the stern was full and soldiers were swinging the door shut and locking it. Fen and his squad were directed to the one in the bow, along with the remaining slaves. The door was closed and locked behind them. All the soldiers filed up the stairs except for one, who remained behind to guard them. He sat down on a wooden box and leaned back against the hull.
“Easier than marching to war, I guess,” he said to no one in particular. “But I’d rather be on my own two feet just the same.”
“Step one is concluded successfully,” Cowley said in a low voice. “We managed to get ourselves locked up in a cell without anybody noticing. That’s a win, isn’t it?”
None of the others answered him. They found places to sit down. It was crowded, but not too bad. Fen leaned against the hull and listened to the sounds of the ship readying for departure. He could feel as well as hear the thump of cargo being stowed in place, running feet, the rattle of a chain somewhere. Shouted orders were given to unfurl the sails. Then came the creak of rigging and the flap of canvas as the sails were lowered and caught hold of the wind.
The ship began to move. Moans came from a few of the slaves. Most had probably never even seen the sea before being taken prisoner, much less ridden in a boat of any kind.
Fen had lived near the sea his entire life, but he’d never been on a boat either, nor had any of his squad mates, judging by their expressions. By the light coming in through the open hatch, Fen could see that Strout was gripping the bars of the iron grate so tightly it looked like he was trying to rip them free. Gage was running the links of the chain he wore around his neck through his fingers over and over. Lukas had his eyes squeezed tightly shut, and Fen thought he might be whispering a prayer.
They crossed the bay, left its shelter, and moved out onto the open water. The gentle rocking of the ship became a great deal stronger as more sails were spread, and the heavier chop of the open water took hold of the ship. Fen didn’t like it much at all. The feeling of having the ground move under him wasn’t a pleasant one. On top of that, he felt strangely untethered. It was like his foundation was gone, and there was nothing below him but emptiness. It was the water, he guessed, blocking his connection to the Stone.
“I don’t feel so good,” Lukas said. “My stomach feels funny.”
“What’s the matter?” Noah asked mockingly. “Big, tough soldier can’t take a little bit of sea? Just ignore it. That’s what I’m doing.”
Soon enough Fen discovered that his stomach didn’t feel so good either. The hold began to feel stiflingly hot and close, though it had seemed cool only moments before. His hands grew clammy, and he began to feel nauseated.
“I think I’m going to be sick,” Cowley said.
“It’s seasickness,” Gage said. “I’ve heard sailors talking about it. They said it passes eventually. You get used to it.”
“I hope it passes soon,” Lukas moaned. “I feel really bad.”
“I feel like my gut is full of worms,” Cowley said, and was immediately met by a chorus of condemnation.
“Why’d you have to say worms?”
“Now I feel even worse.”
Noah chimed in again. “You’re acting like a bunch of babies. Stop your whining and remember who you are.”
“Talking about it is only making it worse,” Strout said.
Silence for a while as each of them wrestled silently with how they felt. Fen began to find it hard to breathe. The hold felt very close. There wasn’t enough air.
“You know, the movement isn’t so bad when you think about it,” Gage said out of nowhere. “It’s kind of like riding a horse in a way. The best thing is to roll with it, if that makes any sense.”
“No, not really,” Cowley said. “But thanks for sharing that with us.”
The hold grew darker, and Fen realized that the clouds he’d seen massing to the west must have moved in and blotted out the sun. The wind picked up, and the sea grew rougher. The ship began to pitch and roll unpredictably. Fen’s nausea grew a great deal worse.
Noah said, “Now I’m starting to feel—”
Whatever he’d planned to say next was lost as he suddenly bent over and threw up noisily.
“Now you’ve done it,” Strout growled. “You’ve gone and pushed the cart down the hill. There’ll be no stopping it now.”
Sure enough, Lukas was sick almost immediately after Noah. And he wasn’t the only one. Everyone in the squad except for the brothers and Gage was sick, along with most of the slaves. The stench grew bad. The soldier guarding them was
cursing them loudly, even as he also got sick.
The squall didn’t last long, but it felt like forever to Fen, huddling miserably in the cell, holding his stomach. When it finally passed, and the sea grew calm once again, he sat up and wiped his mouth.
“I don’t think I’m cut out to be a sailor,” Cowley said. “After this, I’m sticking to land. If you want to go off on any more adventures across the sea, Fen, you’re going to have to go by yourself. Don’t try talking me out of it. I won’t change my mind.”
In the afternoon, their guard was replaced. Buckets of thin soup were brought down and portions ladled out to all of them. By then everyone was parched. The soup helped, but they were still thirsty.
At nightfall the guard changed again, the new one bringing a lantern with him. Fen had kind of sunk into himself by then. He was drifting in and out of a half doze, and he paid no attention to the new guard until a familiar voice spoke nearby.
“I saw the slaves being brought on board this morning, and I thought, that one looks like Fen. But how can that be? Fen is dead. Thought I’d come and see for myself. Guess I’m not going blind after all.”
Fen sat up, blinking against the light of the lantern that the man carried. His sleepiness disappeared immediately, washed away in a rush of fear. They’d been discovered. Someone had recognized him. It took him a moment to realize that it was Sergeant Flint who was peering through the bars at him.
The others in his squad sat up as well. “Sergeant Flint,” Lukas cried.
“Shh.” Flint held a gnarled finger to his lips. “Let’s keep this between us.” He looked them over. “Looks like we got the whole lot of you. How did that happen I wonder? Last I checked, none of you were Maradi, nor were you slaves.”
“It’s a long story,” Fen said.
“I bet.” He looked at Fen. “You’re supposed to be dead, lad. Or don’t you know that?” His gaze traveled over the rest of them. “And you were all down in the dungeon being tortured. Most figure you’re dead too. It’s a long way from there to here.”
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