Dark Shores

by Danielle L. Jensen

  Her crew threw themselves into action, allowing Teriana to guide the ship out of the current the moment the sails caught the wind. The Quincense turned just as another ship came through the passage. She landed hard but intact, the crew frozen in shock, not moving from their handholds as the water jetting out of the xenthier carried them swiftly south. Another ship came through in much the same manner, then another and another.

  “Do you know what’s happening on the other side?” Marcus’s voice was strained.

  She shook her head.

  “Does it … does Magnius know?”

  She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, trying to keep her attention on guiding the ship to where she would do most good. He was pale. She wondered if it was because he feared for the lives of his men or if it was because he feared his conquest was in jeopardy. “He hasn’t crossed through. The path will close when he does.”

  Marcus nodded once. “Four left.”

  One of which was the vessel that had caught fire—the ship Elephant Ears was aboard.

  “Everything will come through, no matter what state it’s in,” she said. “Get your men ready to fish survivors out of the water. Find the one with the flags and have him signal the others. Get them ready to do the same. The current will push everything in their direction.”

  What she didn’t tell him was that if any of the ships had broken up, all they’d be fishing out of the sea were corpses. The impact of the water coming out of the xenthier combined with the weight of their armor was sure to drown all but the luckiest.

  Two more ships arrived, both damaged by fire and listing badly. One wouldn’t make it to shore. “Marcus!” she shouted. “That one needs to be off-loaded.”

  He bellowed orders at the sweating soldier frantically waving flags at the distant ships. Another man had a horn, and he was red faced and blowing more signals.

  A loud crash signaled the arrival of another vessel, and Teriana swore when she saw the state the ship was in. It was Elephant Ears’ monstrosity, the rigging destroyed by fire and the hull punctured by four large holes. Teriana suspected there was a fifth hole on the far side—one for the thumb of a giant fist.

  The ship was already sinking when the last vessel flew out. She bounced once against the water; then the current caught her, sending her hurtling along at twice the speed of the sinking ship. None of the sailors were moving from the handholds they clung to, and nobody stood at the helm.

  “Get their attention!” she screamed. “They need to steer around!”

  Horns blared, but it was too late. The last ship collided with the bow of the sinking vessel with a deafening crash. Teriana watched in horror as the ship keeled over, spilling dozens of men into the churning waters.

  Magnius, shut the path! She sent the thought out as a scream, praying he would hear. Then she hauled on the wheel and sent the Quincense into the fray. “Ready the longboats. Prepare to come alongside.” She didn’t dare lower the small craft until the path was closed. The sea was too rough—they’d be swamped. Coming alongside would be no small feat, either. She was as like to send the two ships colliding into each other, but there was no other option. The ship was sinking, and if she went down, four hundred lives would be lost. The deck of the other ship was full to capacity with men, and those still in the hold would be waist deep in water by now. As it was, not even half of them would fit on the Quincense. Another vessel, at least, would be needed, and as much as Teriana doubted her own ability to come alongside in the rough seas, she knew none of the Cel ships could do it.

  Teriana sailed cautiously, knuckles white on the wheel as they approached. Elephant Ears was standing next to the captain, waving his hands and shouting orders. Soldiers were throwing barrels and planks of wood—anything that floated—to those struggling in the waves. The ship’s longboats were lowering into the water where they’d be filled in seconds.

  “Servius!” He was standing closest to the flag-wielding legionnaire. “Tell them not yet! It’s too rough.” Frustration filled his face, his eyes going to the men in the water. But he barked an order at the soldier, who immediately beat his flags through the air. Seconds later, the boats stopped their descent.

  Close the path! Aloud she called, “Drop the sails!” It was all on her now. Sweat trickling down her back, she judged the rise and fall of the massive swells, turning the ship to slow her speed. Her crew dropped bumpers into place on the starboard side to lessen the impact and stood ready with hooks and lines. The other had sunk enough that her rail was only a few feet higher than that of the Quincense.

  “Get ready!” Her ship rose on a swell, then slid down with irreversible speed, slamming against the doomed vessel. Wood splintered and cracked, and the impact knocked almost everyone off their feet. “Lines!” The ships pulled apart and then slammed together again. Her crew were on their feet in an instant, tossing hooks up to the larger ship and attempting to lash the vessels together as best they could.

  Marcus shouted orders, and seconds later soldiers surged onto her ship in a surprisingly orderly tide. Their faces were pale and their jaws tense, yet their conditioning to obey held even now. But would it be enough to hold those who had to stay aboard and wait for another ship to arrive? If they swarmed the Quincense, she’d be swamped and they’d all drown. Even now, she could feel the ship slipping lower in the water from the growing weight of the legionnaires filling her already-full hold and crowding her decks.

  “Marcus!” she called. “We need another ship. You get them all aboard and we’ll go down.”

  He nodded grimly. Pushing through his men, he climbed on her rail and leapt onto the sinking ship.

  “The Six help us,” Teriana prayed, shutting her eyes for a heartbeat. “Madoria, keep us safe.” Opening them again, she shouted Bait’s name, searching for his face. He was up in the rigging. He pointed, and she saw the fleet had finally recovered from the shock of the whirlpool and was moving. One of the smaller ones was sailing in their direction, clearly looking to come along the port side. “Get in the water and help those you can!” He nodded and dived into the rough seas.

  The tide of soldiers flowing onto her deck abruptly ceased and the lines holding the two ships together went slack. Instinct had her calling for her crew to raise sails, then turning the wheel so that the Quincense rotated away from the sinking vessel, but her attention was all for Marcus, who stood in the midst of the countless men still on the deck.

  “You have to go back!”

  Elephant Ears was pushing up the stairs toward her.

  “He’s still aboard!”

  Teriana looked from the frantic tribunus to the very calm-looking legatus standing at the helm of the sinking ship. Marcus met her gaze and shook his head.

  “Lower the longboats,” she ordered, trying to force the tremble out of her voice with excessive volume. They’d drifted far enough away from the jetting xenthier tip that the waters were starting to calm, and Bait needed somewhere to put those he rescued.

  “Are you listening to me?” Elephant Ears shouted, though he was right next to her now.

  “He doesn’t want us to go back,” she snapped, moving the Quincense so she was out of the way but close enough to … Frankly, Teriana didn’t know how being close would help at all. “Look, the other ship will be there in minutes.”

  Apparently that wasn’t good enough. He shoved her hard, then grabbed the wheel.

  Fury filled her. The idiot was going to get them all killed. Balling her fist, Teriana slugged him in the side of the face. It was his turn to fall back, but in an instant he came at her swinging. She leapt out of the way, the wheel jerking and rotating with no hands to steady it. “He knows what he’s doing,” she hissed. “We’d be going against his orders if we go back.”

  Felix hesitated. “What orders?”

  “He needs us to get these men safely to shore. He ordered me to do it.” The lie slipped easily from her lips. She gestured at the crowded deck. “Get as many below as you can so my crew h
as room to move.”

  His eyes narrowed to slits. “I don’t trust you.”

  “I need him alive!” she shouted, her frustration chasing away her fear. “He’s the one my agreement is with. He’s the only one who can give me back my mum. Last thing I want is for anything to happen to him.” Her words echoed over the ship, and the men crammed amidst all the gear on deck looked up. The pathway had closed, the sudden silence more noticeable than the roar of the jetting seawater had been. The waves instantly calmed, but not in time to soften the impact between the incoming ship and the sinking one.

  A dull groan and the sharp sound of snapping timber washed over them as the massive ship keeled over, the four holes on the starboard side plunging under the swells. Most of the men managed to find a handhold, but several slipped into the water before the ship righted itself, several feet lower and sinking fast.

  “The Seventh take you, you incompetent Cel idiots!” Teriana shouted, her heart hammering in her chest. They only had minutes before the ship went down, and it looked to her as though Marcus intended to be the last man off.

  They were moving fast, clambering onto the rails and leaping to grasp the arms of their friends, but there were so many of them. She didn’t see how they would all make it in time.

  Bait had rescued those who had fallen into the water, but the longboats were full to the brim, men forced to cling to the edges. They wouldn’t be much help if the ship went down with soldiers still on board.

  They were lifting one another up now, standing on shoulders in order to reach hanging ropes and reaching hands. Marcus was in the thick of it, helping his men and shaking his head whenever one of them tried to get him to go. Has he lost his mind? Teriana abandoned the wheel to Yedda’s capable hands, elbowing Elephant Ears so he would make room at the rail.

  “Damn it, Marcus, you blasted brave fool,” she heard the tribunus whisper. They stood together in silence, unable to do anything but watch and wait.

  It happened quickly. One minute, the deck was above water; the next, the stern was beneath the surface, tipping the bow upward at an increasingly sharp angle. Teriana clenched her fists, unable to look away from the few remaining men hauling themselves up the deck until they were high enough to reach the rail of the other ship.

  Then Marcus was the only one left aboard. The ship bobbed once, then sank like a stone. He jumped, catching the hand of a legionnaire leaning far over the railing.

  Not just any legionnaire: it was Titus, Cassius’s son.

  Marcus dangled in the air for an instant, and then he was falling. His feet hit the disappearing bow; then man and ship were sucked beneath the waves.

  Teriana reacted without thinking. Leaping onto the rail, she took a deep breath and dived off the edge.

  The suction of the sinking vessel pulled her into the depths. She couldn’t see anything through the bubbles rising from the ship, but then they cleared, revealing Marcus trying to free his foot from where it had tangled in some rigging. She kicked hard, but the ship was heavier, her momentum lost. She was going to lose him to the sea, and with him, any chance of freeing her captive people.

  A dark shape brushed against her. Magnius. She caught hold of his dorsal spike and they plunged, her ears popping. Faster, she thought. Faster. Then they were upon the ship.

  Marcus’s struggles had the frantic edge of one almost out of air, and when Teriana caught his wrist he tried to pull away. Then their eyes locked, and with one mighty thrash of his tail Magnius pulled Marcus free and dragged them toward the surface.

  Teriana’s chest burned, and if she needed air this badly, Marcus needed it more. The sun grew brighter and brighter, but his grip was weakening.

  Hold on!

  Then they shot into the air, Magnius rising out of the water in a massive breach. Both she and Marcus lost their grips, but Teriana sucked in a mouthful of air before she hit the water.

  Marcus sank, and she caught hold of him, kicking hard and dragging them both up until their heads broke the surface. He coughed and choked, and it was everything she could do to keep him afloat until Magnius swam under, lifting them onto his broad back. She held Marcus in place while he gasped in air, the guardian swimming in lazy circles around the ship.

  “You going to live?” she asked once he finished coughing.

  “Yes.” His voice was hoarse. He rolled onto one elbow, and she gave him a dark little smile when he realized exactly what he was lying on and froze.

  “Don’t fall off.”

  His eyes widened. “Would he…?”

  “Been known to happen, though you’re a bit skinny for his tastes.”

  One of Marcus’s eyebrows rose. “I prefer the term lean.”

  “You shouldn’t have told me that.”

  Against all odds, he laughed. He had a good laugh, she concluded, watching his shoulders shake. It made him look less like the ruthless killer she knew him to be. It didn’t last.

  “You saved my life,” he said, ignoring the ropes his men tossed down from the Quincense.

  Teriana stared at the water, unable to meet his gaze. “I need you alive,” she muttered. “Let’s just say, I’m not all that confident that Titus will pick up your end of the bargain should you meet an untimely end.”

  “It might’ve been an accident.”

  She spit into the water. “If you’re that big an idiot, then you deserve to be sitting at the bottom of the sea.”

  “I didn’t say I didn’t think it was on purpose,” Marcus replied, absently picking a splinter out of his ankle. “Only that I can’t prove it. Which means I can’t do anything about it.”

  “Suppose that means I’ll have to watch your back if I ever want to see my mum again.”

  The corner of his mouth turned up. “I suppose it does.” They circled the stern of the ship and he reached for one of the dangling ropes, but she caught his hand and tugged it away.

  Kneeling on Magnius’s back, she pointed off in the distance to the haze darkening the horizon. Marcus held up a hand to shade his vision, and his lips parted with a soft sound of astonishment. “Is that it?”

  She nodded, hoping, praying, that she knew what she was getting into. “Welcome to the Dark Shores.”

  25

  TERIANA

  If Legatus Marcus of the Thirty-Seventh was troubled by his near brush with death or the manifestation of gods, he did not show it as he calmly delivered orders from the quarterdeck of her ship. Blood dripped down the side of his ankle and from the knife wound on his arm, but he’d refused offers to have the injuries bandaged in favor of taking reports, pausing from time to time to examine the nearing coastline with a spyglass.

  He has a plan in mind, Teriana thought to herself. Then again, so did she.

  It was a balancing act. A fine line she needed to walk between helping them enough to fulfill her half of the bargain and sabotaging their conquest. Between saving her people and sacrificing the West to the Cel scourge.

  The xenthier stem was off the eastern coast of the midpoint of the Southern Continent, which was both vast and diversely populated. Her crew had been of a mind that she trick Marcus into landing the fleet in Gamdesh. There they would most certainly be crushed by the Sultan’s armies, which were large, well trained, and commanded by the Sultan’s god-marked daughter, who was known to be one of the finest generals of the West. Yet as tempting as such a proposition was, it was unlikely to incite Marcus to write the letter Teriana needed saying she’d upheld her end of the bargain.

  Such a letter was a more certain thing if she took them to the far south of the continent to the peaceful plains of Katamarca, which was full of farmers, not warriors. Most of the god-marked living there were blessed by Yara, who would do them little good against two Cel legions. Landing them there would ensure the West would never be rid of them.

  There were other options she could’ve guided Marcus toward, each with their pros and cons, but it still required a choice on her part. Which nation would she throw to the sharks? In th
e end, it had been Arinoquia.

  “Jungle,” Marcus muttered, lowering the spyglass. The water soaking his tunic had long since dried in the hot sun, and the stiffened straps of his armor creaked when he moved.

  “That’s what I told you,” she said, praying her voice betrayed none of her concerns. “If we go north, it’s mangroves, and the plains are four days’ sail to the south.”

  “Assuming all that you’ve told me is true, this is precisely where I wish to be.”

  Marcus had barely spoken to her after she’d told him about how to reach the xenthier, but prior to that he’d questioned her about the thousand miles of coastline, no detail seeming too small to escape his notice. Size of villages and cities, the nature of their fortifications, and their military strengths. Descriptions of the landscape and vegetation. Understanding of trade and commerce and politics.

  But mostly he was interested in strife. Conflict. War.

  And she supposed that made a certain sort of sense. What better place to strike than one he believed already weakened by years of infighting? One that could be wiped out easily and a stronghold established.

  “I’d be a fool to lie,” she said, then shouted an order to lower a sail. The Quincense sat low in the water, and the last thing she needed was to bottom out her ship. Her crew members were still rattled by the manifestation of Madoria and Gespurn—the gods did their work through those they gifted with god marks, and it had been longer than living memory since one had stepped onto the mortal plane in such a grand display. It was not lost on Teriana that it had been her choices that had motivated those manifestations, but she kept forcibly shoving the thought from her head, because to do otherwise would render her a weeping mess on the deck. “Me lying would give you a reason to renege on our bargain. I’m not that stupid.”

  And she hadn’t lied. At least, not overtly. A generation ago, the coast of Arinoquia had been conquered by invaders from an island off the southern tip of the continent, the majority of those native to Arinoquia retreating inland to the Uncharted Lands, where they presumably remained, though no one ever saw them.