Redemption (Book 6)

by Ben Cassidy

  Blackstone gazed coolly at Kendril. “I don’t see how.”

  “I’ve written it all time and again in my reports,” Kendril said in a strained voice. “The Jombard tribes are being led by a skilled war chieftain.”

  “Ah, yes.” Blackstone drained the last of his brandy and smacked his lips. “Your so-called ‘Great Fang.’” He raised a thin eyebrow. “It has rather the air of the melodramatic, wouldn’t you say?”

  Kendril took both hands off the chair. “I think you had better be careful now, Lord Blackstone,” he said quietly. “By my count this is the third time that you’ve implied that I’m a liar.” He rested one hand significantly on the hilt of his rapier. “Men have been called out for less than that.”

  “Me, take you on in a duel?” Blackstone waved a hand with a laugh. “I wouldn’t dream of it, Ravenbrook. You’re the man of action after all, not me.” He gave a smile, pressing the fingertips of his hands together. “I would never suggest that you were lying. Perish the thought. But I am also aware that intelligence reports can sometimes be faulty. Incomplete.” He made a circle with his hands. “Makes it hard to get the whole perspective of what’s going on.”

  “And you have the whole perspective?” Kendril’s voice was as hard and cold as iron.

  “I admit that I’m not a military man,” Blackstone said. “Tactics and strategy and regiments and all such are beyond my knowledge.” He pointed a finger in the air. “But economics, that I understand.”

  Kendril didn’t say anything. He continued to watch Blackstone through narrowed eyes.

  “You see, Kendril,” Blackstone continued, speaking as if he were lecturing in a classroom, “for you and your friends to play soldier like you’re doing costs money. Lots of it. And the longer you dash around on horseback and drill on your parade ground and fight imaginary Jombards—”

  Kendril’s face twitched angrily, but he still didn’t say anything.

  “—the more money it all costs.” Blackstone began holding up fingers. “Base salary for the militiamen, for starters. Then uniforms. Ammunition. Food and drink. Feed for the horses. Weapons—”

  “War is expensive,” Kendril said unsympathetically. “But it’s still cheaper than letting Redemption burn to the ground.”

  “Oh,” said Blackstone as he sat up in his chair, “but you haven’t let me even get to the best part. All these men you have in uniform are not only draining money from our coffers, but they’re not making money either.” Blackstone rose to his feet. “There are fields that will need planting here in just a few weeks. Right now the farmers are all drilling at Stockade. The saw mills are silent because there’s no one to work them. The fur trade has practically dried up because all the trappers have taken arms.”

  Kendril crossed his arms and gave a cynical smile. “Seeing a loss in your profits, Blackstone?”

  “I’m no fool, Kendril,” Blackstone said, his eyes blazing. “I know what your plan is. Your family has hated mine for years. There has always been a feud between us.”

  Kendril raised his eyebrows. “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “Is has to do with everything,” Blackstone hissed. “You intend to ruin me. To take over as Lord Mayor. Admit it!”

  Kendril stared at the man as if seeing him for the first time. “You’re completely insane,” he said.

  “If someone doesn’t stop you,” Blackstone said, his eyes feverish, “you won’t just destroy me, Ravenbrook. You’ll destroy Redemption. Everything my family has worked to build here.”

  “I’m not trying to destroy Redemption,” Kendril said. “I’m trying to save it.” He jabbed a finger at the letter on the table. “But if you disband the militia, you’re signing all of our death warrants.”

  “Am I?” said Blackstone with a laugh. “Or am I just ruining your little game, Ravenbrook?” He fell back into his chair and pressed the fingertips of his hands back together. “I’ve sent a letter to Colonel Yearling. You have until the end of the day to send the men home, or the dragoons are to consider your army an unauthorized rebel force.” His eyes glinted. “And if you don’t disband the men, Yearling will do it for you. By force if necessary.”

  “Talin’s ashes,” Kendril whispered. “You really are mad.”

  “This meeting is concluded, Lord Ravenbrook,” Blackstone announced triumphantly. “And next time, please wipe your boots before entering the building.”

  Kendril snatched a flintlock pistol from his holster. He snapped back the hammer and aimed the barrel directly at Blackstone’s head. “If you do this,” he said in a cold voice, “we’re all as good as dead.”

  “Yes,” said Blackstone with a mocking laugh. “Well then, go ahead and shoot me.” He stood up from his chair, spreading his arms wide. “Here, I’ll make a better target for you. Shoot me dead, Ravenbrook, and take the town for yourself. Prove me right.”

  Kendril gritted his teeth.

  Slowly, almost painfully, he lifted the pistol up into the air.

  Blackstone chuckled. “Well, well. It appears that you’re a coward after all, Ravenbrook.” He smiled. “I win. You lose.”

  Kendril shoved his pistol back in his holster. He gave Blackstone one last icy glare, then turned on his heels.

  “Always nice chatting, Lord Ravenbrook,” Blackstone called out behind him. “Be sure to come again soon.”

  Petranus and another pirate grabbed Kara by the arms. They lifted the struggling girl to place her back on the plank.

  Maklavir jumped forward.

  The pirate closest to him, the one with the pistol, had glanced back at Kara’s predicament with a grin. At Maklavir’s sudden movement he snapped his head back around.

  Maklavir grabbed his pistol arm and bent it upwards. Then, quick as a wink, he twisted the pistol out of the pirate’s grip.

  “Hey!’ Petranus roared. He dropped Kara and reached for his cutlass.

  Maklavir slammed the butt of the wheelock pistol into the unarmed pirate’s head and knocked him flat to the deck. He whirled around and pointed the pistol directly at Sadira.

  There was a flurry of shouts from the pirates. Pistols and swords flashed out into hands.

  Maklavir circled around Sadira, keeping his pistol pointing squarely at her head. “I swear by all that is holy,” he said, “I’ll kill you if you throw her overboard.”

  Sadira dropped her rapier to the deck. She lifted her hands with a smile. “You would shoot an unarmed woman, Maklavir? Not very gentlemanly.”

  “You’ll forgive me if I don’t waste too many manners on a criminal and a murderer,” Maklavir said between his teeth. He glanced back at the pirates.

  A line of black pistol and musket barrels pointed directly at him.

  Maklavir swallowed. He waved the pistol at Sadira. “Tell them to let Kara go.”

  “And then what?” Sadira gave a little laugh. “Supposing you do shoot me, Maklavir, what then?” She looked back at Petranus and the other pirates. “My men here will kill you where you stand.”

  Maklavir lifted his head. “That being true, I would still take you with me.”

  Sadira sighed deeply. She spread her delicate hands. “Alright, Maklavir. You have my full attention.”

  “There’s no need to kill her,” Maklavir said. His eyes danced back and forth between Sadira and the other pirates, who were starting to edge closer. “We can make a deal. We can all still win here.”

  “Or you’ll shoot me?” Sadira asked with a smile. “I’ve seen your eyes, Maklavir. You’re not a killer.”

  Maklavir lowered his pistol. “You’re right. I’m not.” He glanced back at Kara, then at Sadira. “I’m a diplomat. A negotiator. This is a simple arrangement. You want profit. I want Kara to live.” Maklavir tossed the loaded gun onto the deck. “I’ll go with you, sign whatever letter you want.” He nodded towards Kara. “Just as soon as I know she’s safe.”

  “Captain,” Petranus growled. “Don’t listen to this fop.” He grabbed Kara by the arm. “Jus
t give me the word and—”

  Sadira lifted a hand. Her eyes were on Maklavir, her face busy with thought. “You are asking us to abandon the code of the sea? To ignore the law by which we live?”

  Maklavir rolled his eyes. “Oh, please. With due respect, Captain, you’re a bunch of bloody pirates.”

  The men behind Maklavir stiffened. There was an undercurrent of angry mutterings.

  Sadira looked hard at Maklavir for a long moment. Then she threw back her head and laughed. “Oh, Maklavir. I really do like you. Such courage. Such daring.”

  Maklavir kept his face implacable. “Do we have a deal?”

  Sadira sheathed her rapier. “We have a deal. I give you my word of honor. We will let your love and the rest of these miserable swine go. You will remain with us and write the ransom letter to your government.” She spat into her palm and stuck out her hand.

  Maklavir raised a questioning eyebrow. “Your word of honor?”

  Sadira’s eyes twinkled.”Well, as you so adroitly pointed out, I am a pirate.”

  “I suppose it will have to do,” Maklavir said under his breath. He spat into his own palm, then grasped Sadira’s hand.

  “There,” Sadira said as they finished shaking. “Now it is sealed.” She glanced disdainfully over the crew of the merchant ship. “Say your goodbyes, Maklavir. You have five minutes.”

  She turned and walked down the deck.

  Maklavir turned immediately. “Untie her,” he ordered the pirate closest to Kara.

  The man gave a menacing look, but untied the ropes that bound Kara’s hands.

  “Maklavir—” Kara said in a half-whisper. She moved towards him, glancing back at the pirates that were transporting chests and other valuables to their ship. “How could you—?”

  “Yes, well,” said Maklavir, smoothing out the front of his shirt, “I doubt it will be as bad as all that. They seem like a decent enough bunch, really.”

  Kara glanced over at the pirate ship. “I’m sorry. I’ve made a mess of everything. I should never have tried to—”

  “Stuff and nonsense,” Maklavir said. “You have nothing to apologize for.” He shot a glance at the merchant captain, who was slouching against the far railing. “Perhaps if the rest of this crew had shown as much backbone as you had, things might have turned out a bit differently.”

  “Maklavir,” Kara started again. She brushed some stray strands of red hair out of her eyes. “I—I didn’t know.”

  “Yes,” said Maklavir as he looked down at the deck. “Well, I really was going to tell you. I just—it never seemed like a good moment, you know. And then—” He glanced over at Joseph, who was still unconscious by the railing. “And then there’s Joseph. He’s a good man, you know. I didn’t want to—”

  “I see,” said Kara softly. “That’s what the two of you were fighting about then, wasn’t it?”

  Maklavir gave an awkward smile. “Yes, well that was just silly of both of us. We were both acting like children.”

  Kara glanced over towards the pirate ship. “I can’t let you do this, Maklavir. If you go with those pirates, there’s no telling what could happen to you.”

  “Especially,” said Maklavir in a low voice, “when these lot discover that the King of Valmingaard would probably enjoy seeing me dead, and certainly won’t pay any ransom for me.”

  Kara took a quick look to make sure they weren’t being overheard. “We’ll come back for you,” she whispered. “Get you off this ship. Just keep—”

  “My dear Kara,” said Maklavir with a resigned smile, “how would you even find this pirate ship, much less rescue me from it?”

  “We could try to escape right now,” Kara said, grabbing his arm. “Come on, Maklavir, we—”

  “Now you’re not making any sense,” said Maklavir sternly. “Joseph is still unconscious. Even if we could get him into a boat without being seen, we’d never escape that pirate ship on the high seas. And we certainly can’t swim away.”

  “There has to be something we can do,” said Kara with an edge of desperation to her voice.

  “There is,” said Maklavir quietly. “And I’m doing it.” He put both his hands on Kara’s shoulders. “Get to Redemption, Kara. Find Kendril and make sure he doesn’t get himself killed, eh? Just like that oracle of yours.”

  “Oh, Maklavir,” Kara said. She looked up into his eyes. “I wish you would have told me—”

  “Yes,” said Maklavir with a feeble smile. “Well, I suppose I’ve always been a bit of a coward.”

  “You’re a lot of things, Maklavir,” said Kara. “But you’ve never been a coward.”

  Maklavir opened his mouth, but didn’t say anything.

  “Maklavir!” Sadira waved her hat from the deck of the pirate ship. “It’s time. Say goodbye to your girl and let’s go.”

  “Goodbye, Kara,” Maklavir whispered. “Sorry about everything. I—don’t know when I’ll see you again. If I’ll see you again.”

  Kara bent in suddenly and kissed Maklavir on the cheek. “Stay safe,” she whispered. “And stay alive. I will see you again. That’s a promise.”

  “Maklavir!” Sadira tapped her foot impatiently on the deck.

  For a moment Maklavir looked as if he was going to say something. Then he squeezed Kara’s shoulders hard, and turned for the boarding plank.

  Kara stood silently, the wind whipping her short red hair as she watched Maklavir go.

  The moment Maklavir’s feet touched the deck of the pirate ship, the boarding planks were grabbed and drawn in. With a series of shouts and barked orders the pirates disengaged their ship from the larger merchant ship, and pushed off.

  Maklavir stood with folded arms, watching as Kara’s form began to grow smaller and smaller.

  Sadira stepped up beside him. The feather on her tricorn hat bounced jauntily in the wind. “You’ll get over her,” she said. “Trust me, Maklavir, the sea is big. There are other fish.”

  “Really?” Maklavir murmured. He could just make out Kara’s green cloak fluttering in the wind.

  Sadira pushed Maklavir’s cap down over his eyes.

  “Hey!” Maklavir said angrily. He pushed his cap back up and glared at the pirate queen.

  “Sometimes,” Sadira said with a sly smile, “it is just a matter of knowing where to look.” She turned and sauntered back up the deck.

  Maklavir watched her retreating figure for several seconds. For a pirate, she certainly was very—

  He shook his head, and glanced back at the shrinking merchant ship.

  He couldn’t make out Kara’s figure any more.

  Chapter 10

  Captain Beckett stormed up the steps of the blockhouse. His boots were covered with mud, his buff coat splattered with rain and dirt. He pushed inside, looking around wildly.

  Wilkes shrank back away from the giant, red-faced man.

  “Where’s the General?” Beckett thundered.

  Wilkes pointed down the hall. “In-in his office, sir. But I don’t think—”

  Beckett tramped down the hall and straight into Kendril’s office.

  Kendril stood by his desk, looking out the small window onto the rain-drenched parade ground.

  “Sir!” Beckett saluted sharply. “With respect, sir, I request permission to return to Hangman’s Hill. The defenses have barely been started. If the Jombards hit again—”

  Kendril turned from the window. “It’s out of my hands, Captain. The Lord Mayor has disbanded the militia. He’s given us until the end of the day.”

  Beckett’s face turned even redder than before. “Why that blustering, snake-faced buffoon! What does he think he’s doing?” Beckett pounded a powerful fist down onto the desk, causing the pens and papers to jump. “The dragoons are spread too thin.”

  Kendril turned his face back to the window. “I know.”

  “When the Jombards come back, they’ll sweep over the Wall and head straight for Redemption. There’ll be nothing to stop them.”

  Kendril took a
slow breath. “I know.”

  Beckett straightened. He glanced back at the doorway of the office.

  Wilkes was just peeking his head around the corner. His eyes grew wide as Beckett spotted him.

  “Don’t you have something useful to be doing, you little pipsqueak?” Beckett roared.

  Wilkes nodded. “Sir, yes sir!” His face vanished.

  Beckett turned back to Kendril. He lowered his voice to barely over a whisper. “You’re going to do this, sir? Follow the Lord Mayor’s order to disband?”

  Kendril kept staring out the window. “I don’t have a choice.”

  Beckett took a breath. He glanced back towards the doorway. “Begging your pardon, sir,” he said in a voice so quiet that the rain hammering against the windows almost drowned it out, “but I think maybe you do.”

  Kendril turned slowly. He crossed his arms, but said nothing.

  Beckett crossed over to the doorway of the study. He glanced out into the hallway, then shut the door softly. “Give me the word, General,” he said, “and I can have five hundred men at arms and ready to march. At least a hundred mounted.”

  Kendril’s face was like stone. “March where, Captain?”

  Beckett looked at Kendril for a long moment. “To Redemption, sir.” He cleared his throat. “Look, the men are with you. You’ve led them well, and they respect you. But the Lord Mayor, well frankly sir, the man is a viper.”

  Kendril looked down at the surface of his desk. His face was troubled and lined with thought.

  “I don’t know why Blackstone’s disbanding the militia,” Beckett continued, “and frankly sir, I don’t much care. You and I both know that if that happens it will be the end of Redemption.” He took a step back. “You’re the man to lead us through this, sir, if you don’t mind me saying so. Not Lord Blackstone.”

  Kendril lifted his eyes to meet Beckett. “So you’re saying I should march into Redemption at the head of an army? Take over city hall by force?”

  “I’m not seeing as how Blackstone’s given you much choice in the matter, sir.” Beckett pushed his wide-brimmed hat further back on his head. “The men would be with you, sir. Nine out of ten of them, anyways.”