by Claire Frank
“Hey,” she said, keeping her voice to a whisper.
The guard looked toward her again, narrowing his eyes, but he didn’t move.
“Hey,” she said again, a bit louder. She wanted to be careful not to attract the attention of the second guard, but this one seemed rooted to the spot. “Over here.”
“Who’s there?” he said in a whisper. Rhis cracked a smile at his quiet tone.
“I thought I saw something,” she said. “This way.”
The guard’s brow wrinkled in confusion, but he walked toward her. As soon as he was close to the bow, she tagged him with a dart and pulled him behind the other ship. “Shh,” she said into his ear as she eased him down onto the dock, well away from the central wharf.
“Lawrence?”
Rhis paused behind the bow of the other ship. She had a feeling she’d just put Lawrence down for a lengthy nap. Peeking around the bow, she saw the other guard taking slow steps toward the spot where Lawrence had just been standing. He craned his neck and looked around.
“Lawrence? Where’d you go? If you’re sleeping again, I’m not covering for you.”
Taking a deep breath, Rhis counted her heartbeats as the guard walked closer, a dart held ready. She had to resist the urge to move too soon; the adrenaline coursing through her veins was making her jumpy. His footsteps clicked on the wood, slowing as he approached the ship. His head peeked around the bow and his eyes widened when he saw Rhis. She threw the dart, tagging him in the neck, and sprang forward to grab him. He got out a sharp yell before she could stop him, the noise cutting through the quiet. With her hand over his mouth, she held him tight until his eyes rolled back in his head and he slumped. She hauled him next to Lawrence, all the while casting wary glances at the ships next to her, certain someone would come to investigate the sound.
Her heart pounded as she stole from behind the ship and crossed in front of the Maiden. There was still one more guard, and she couldn’t give Rickson and the others the signal until he was dealt with. She slipped into a shadow near Rickson’s ship and watched as the other guard made his round. In the dim light, she couldn’t see his face, but his pace picked up as he neared the Maiden. He knew something was wrong.
She hoped he might assume the two were simply shirking their duty, but she wasn’t that lucky. He gripped his spear with both hands as if he expected to use it. Rhis pulled out another dart and kept it ready in her hand. She only had two left; she needed to make this one count.
As the guard crossed out of the circle of lamplight, Rhis threw. The dart disappeared into the darkness and the guard gasped, reaching up to his neck, just below his jaw. He was hit. His grip on his weapon faltered, and the spear crashed to the ground. Rhis dashed forward and tucked her arms beneath his, letting his weight lean onto her. His head slumped down on her shoulder, and he let out a low groan as she dragged him off the wharf and down the dock alongside the Maiden.
Rhis laid him down and went back for his spear, then placed it alongside him. She made her way around to the side of the Maiden, then turned and whistled. The sound carried across the silence and a heartbeat later, Rickson answered. She blew out a breath in relief and hauled herself up onto the deck of the ship.
A man stood on deck, looking at her wide-eyed. “What? Who are you?”
He fumbled with his spear and Rhis slipped a small blade into her hand. With a flick of her wrist, she threw, and it sank into his thigh. His mouth dropped open and let out a pained groan, but the blade was small and Rhis knew it hadn’t done any real damage. He lunged for her, but his legs wobbled and he blinked hard, shaking his head. Biting her lip, Rhis hesitated. She’d prefer to dart in and ease him down, so he wouldn’t make too much noise as he fell, but he still held his spear as if he meant to run her through. He opened his mouth again, but his eyes rolled back and his spear clattered to the ground as it dropped from his limp hands. With another groan, he pitched forward, falling face first onto the deck.
Rickson climbed aboard, followed by Ewan and Asher. He stopped when he saw the man lying face down. “Dead?”
“No, but he’s not going to be pretty when he wakes up.”
“Let’s get him off my ship,” Rickson said. They grabbed the guard and dragged him across the deck, then Rickson and Ewan hauled him over the side and laid him down on the dock below. Rickson picked up the spear and tossed it to Asher.
“Here, it’s yours now. We’ll learn that next.”
Rhis led the way below deck to make sure there were no more guards on board, while Ewan began untying the ship from the dock. The crew were locked in one of the cargo holds, and Rhis found a heavy chain and padlock securing the door.
“That guard probably had the key,” Rickson said. He knocked on the door. “Boys? It’s the Captain. I’m getting you out. Be ready to set sail.”
Rhis and Rickson hurried up top, and Rhis glanced at the sky while Rickson dashed down to the dock to hunt for the key. A pale pink glow colored the eastern horizon. Daybreak.
Rickson rushed across the deck and down the stairs, waving a ring of keys as he passed. Rhis let out a sigh of relief. Within moments, the crew poured out of the hold, rushing across the deck in a sudden swirl of chaos. Rhis grabbed Asher and took him toward the stern, trying to keep out of the sailors’ way. They searched Rickson’s cabin to make sure there were no more surprises, but found it empty and apparently untouched.
Back on deck, the crew worked in near-silence, communicating with hand gestures and quick words spoken quietly and passed along the line. Rhis had a feeling they’d done this sort of quiet pre-dawn departure before. Rickson’s Wielders ran for his cabin, making for the hidden paddle wheel, and the rest of the crew got the ship underway with practiced precision.
The Maiden lurched into motion as the wheels began to turn and they pulled away from the wharf. Rhis reached for Asher and put an arm around his shoulders. They watched the city shrink as the sun rose, casting its light over the clear blue water of the sea.
Rickson stood on the quarterdeck, watching his men unfurl the sails. Ewan approached and Rickson put a hand on his shoulder. “We’re going home, boys. Set a course for the Amber Isles.”
A murmur rose across the decks as the sailors greeted the news with smiles and words of satisfaction. Despite having just been imprisoned on their own ship, the crew’s mood was light. They hustled around the ship, hurrying to their tasks, and although the sails hung limp the ship plowed forward into the sparkling water, leaving Capena behind.
Fatigue stole over Rhis, and she patted Asher’s back. “Let’s get some rest.”
He nodded and made his way back to his small bunk while Rhis went to Rickson’s cabin. She shut the door behind her and nodded to the two Wielders working the wheel. They were on the far side of the room, and all she needed was a couple hours of sleep. She fell into Rickson’s bed, feeling the odd sensation that she was somehow home.
She didn’t realize until voices woke her later that she’d forgotten to tap the door frame.
***
Rhis’s heart lurched and she sat up in bed with a start, the sound of alarm in the crew’s voices waking her from a dead sleep. She jumped out of bed and hurried on deck. One of the sailors was high on the lookout, pointing behind them. Rickson stood on the quarterdeck, looking through a spyglass.
“What’s going on?” Rhis asked. She squinted into the distance and could see a ship coming at them from an angle.
“We’re being followed,” Rickson said.
She sighed. Of course they were being followed.
“I should say we’re being chased. They have the wind and they’re coming in fast,” Rickson said. “We can’t get more than a breeze in our sails. We’ll have to change course to catch the wind and try to outrun them.”
Rhis watched the other ship, seeming so small against the vast blue expanse of the sea. Rickson put his eye to his spyglass again and Asher wandered up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
“Bloody hell,” Rickso
n said.
“Who is it?” Rhis asked. “Gray Cloaks?”
Rickson shook his head as he lowered the spyglass. “That’s Athon’s ship.”
“That’s not possible,” Rhis said. “Would his crew keep following us?”
Rickson took a few steps closer to the rail and raised his spyglass again. He stood still for a long moment, watching. Rhis’s stomach turned over and a feeling of dread passed through her. She glanced over her shoulder at Asher, her fingers twitching at her sides. The boy’s face was pale and he stared at Rickson, chewing his lip.
“That son of a bitch,” Rickson said. “It’s him.”
“What?” Rhis said, holding out her hand. Rickson gave her the spyglass and she held it up to her eye. The other ship jumped to life as if it had suddenly grown close. She saw the tall masts, their sails billowing in the wind. Moving down, she could see sailors working, moving about their tasks. She combed the deck and there, standing near the bow, was Athon. He wore a leather vest that left his metal arm bare, the strange silver glinting in the sunlight. He seemed to look her in the eye, giving her a hard stare as if he could see her as clearly as she saw him.
Rhis put the spyglass down. “How in the hell did he live?”
Rickson shook his head slowly. “This guy just won’t die. Are you sure he was down there in the crack with you?”
“I couldn’t see him,” she said. “But I could hear him talk.”
“Maybe he was above, standing at the edge,” Rickson said.
“I suppose,” Rhis said, thinking back on their conversation. It was possible, but it didn’t seem likely. “He would have gloated or something. He seemed … upset, but relieved that even if he was going to die, at least I was, too. As soon as we started hearing you call for me, he went silent.”
“See, he must have been up above, and he ran off when we got near,” Rickson said.
“Um….” Asher spoke, but he trailed off and Rhis and Rickson turned to look at him.
“What?” Rhis asked. “Can you see something?”
“No, I….” He stopped again.
“Spit it out, kid,” Rickson said.
“Athon was in the crack,” he said. “I saw him before we left.”
“Was he climbing out?” Rickson said. “You should have said something.”
“No, I didn’t see him climbing,” Asher said. “But….”
Rhis crossed her arms. “Ash, what is it? We have a bit of a problem here.”
Asher swallowed hard. “I tossed the warming stone down to him.”
Rhis’s mouth dropped open and Rickson took a step forward.
“You did what?” Rickson asked, his voice rising.
“I couldn’t leave him to die like that,” Asher said, the words tumbling from his mouth. “It wasn’t right. He was stuck and he was going to freeze. That’s no way to die. I could see him down there and it was so … sad. I couldn’t walk away. I had the stone with me, so I tossed it to him. I figured it would at least keep him warm enough to stay alive until he could figure a way out.”
Anger flared through Rhis and she fought to keep her voice even. “Did you forget this man has been hunting us? That he tried to kill us? That he’s arguably the most dangerous bounty hunter in the Empire, and his most sought-after quality is that he never fails to bring in a contract?”
“No.”
“Did you think he couldn’t catch up with us? Gods, Asher, what did you think would happen when he got out?”
“I … I guess I thought maybe he’d be glad I saved him and let us go.”
Rhis opened her mouth but couldn’t find the words to reply. Apparently the naivety hadn’t been worked out of him. Yet. This should do it.
She put a hand to her forehead as she closed her eyes, and counted her heartbeats until she reached seven. Her fingers twitched, itching to tap the door frame to Rickson’s cabin, eager to make up for the ritual she’d missed. It wouldn’t make Athon a frozen corpse covered in snow, but it might slow her pounding heart. “Damn it all, Asher.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I know you’re sorry,” she said, and turned to Rickson. “Can we outrun him?”
“We’re sure as hell gonna try.”
THIRTY-THREE: MAKE A DEAL
As the day wore on, even Rhis could see Athon’s ship was closing the distance. The small shape on the horizon grew, and by the time the sun set the ship was visibly closer. Rickson worked the crew hard, making adjustments to the sails and changes to their course to maximize their use of the wind.
Rhis hardly slept that night, tossing and turning while she wondered whether they could outrun Athon. Rickson joined her for a few hours of rest, but he rose before dawn and made his way back out on deck.
When the sun began to stream through the portholes, Rhis gave up on sleep and rose. The two Wielders shuffled in to take their place at the hidden wheel, looking as if they hadn’t slept much more than she had. She gave them a nod and wandered out on deck. She already knew what she’d find, but indulged in a moment of hope that Athon’s ship might have been left behind in the night. Instead, she looked back to find him closer than ever.
She found Rickson at the wheel, staring ahead, his hands on the smooth wood handles.
“How many Wielders do you have?” she asked. “Just the two?”
“They’re the only ones who can move the wheel,” he said. “I can’t make them work all night. They’ll collapse if they don’t get some rest.”
“How is he moving so fast?” she asked. “Aren’t we using the same wind?”
Rickson shook his head. “I don’t know. His ship is smaller, and probably lighter. For all I know, he pitched half his crew into the sea to save on the weight. I knew his ship was fast, but damn him. Damn him to the abyss.”
“If his crew is smaller, we might outnumber them,” Rhis said.
“I don’t want it to come to that if we can help it.”
“He’ll keep coming, even if we lose him now.”
“He’ll have to find us first,” Rickson said. “If we can get far enough ahead, we’ll lose him. I know a dozen places to hide between here and the Isles.”
Rhis paused and tucked her hair behind her ear. Bringing up money suddenly felt awkward, but she didn’t want to leave the issue hanging between them. “Asher lost the stone, and I can’t go back to Altia. That means I can’t pay you.”
Rickson’s face softened as he glanced at her. “Let’s not worry about that now. We have more pressing problems at the moment.”
***
For two days, Rickson pushed his crew, struggling for every last scrap of wind. The Wielders worked from dawn to dusk with hardly a break, looking increasingly haggard as time went on. Rhis could do nothing but pace the deck, counting her footsteps, and watch as Athon’s ship drew ever closer. Asher avoided her, spending most of his time in his bunk. She had to admit, it was difficult to stay angry at him. Although she couldn’t fathom how he could have been so foolish as to save Athon’s life, what was done was done. If, or more likely when, Athon caught up, he’d be after Rhis, not Asher. At worst, she could convince Athon to take her and leave Asher with Rickson and the crew. She doubted she’d live to see Altia if that happened, but it was probably no less than she deserved.
On the third day, Rhis woke to find Athon’s ship so close, she could have swum the distance between them. The crew armed themselves, readying for the inevitable confrontation. Several brought out bows and supplies of arrows. Others sharpened curved short swords or wicked looking daggers. Rhis treated her blades with poison, handling them with care so as not to nick herself. She kept her staff strapped to her back, its weight small comfort. It was a weapon she’d kept with her since her flight from Thaya, something she only used when all else failed. She preferred to keep her enemies at a distance, and strike before they knew she was there. Knowing she’d need her staff before the day was out was not a pleasant thought.
Asher walked out on deck, a spear in his hand, and took
up a position among the rest of the crew. He looked like a miniature sailor, with his loose pants and threadbare shirt, both hand-me-downs from one of the crew, and too large on his wiry frame. Still, Rhis was certain he’d grown. The roundness was gone from his cheeks, and his silver eyes stood out starkly against his tanned skin. His dark hair blew in the wind.
Rhis nodded to him and he followed her across the deck. “You need to stay below,” she said.
“No,” he said. “This is my fault. I need to help.”
“This is going to be bloody, Ash. People dying. I can’t protect you from this.”
He clasped his hands around the shaft of the spear and looked her in the eye. “I know.”
Rhis took the spear. “You don’t know how to use this and you can’t go into battle with an untested weapon.” She pulled her largest knife and handed it to him. “Hang onto this and keep your other knife ready. But stay hidden. You can stab any of Athon’s men who come close, but don’t come out into the fighting. And for the love of the Emperor, stay away from Athon. I don’t know what he’ll do to you if he gets his hands on you, and I don’t want to find out.”
Asher took her knife and tucked it into his belt. He gave her a solemn nod and turned.
“Asher,” she said, and he looked back over his shoulder. “If this doesn’t go well, you’ll still be okay. Rickson will take you to the Isles and….”
“I know,” he said, his voice quiet. “And Rhis?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks for saving me.”
Tears sprang to her eyes as Asher walked away, his back straight and his stride sure. She swallowed hard, choking back the sudden burst of emotion.
He’ll be fine.
Athon’s ship approached on their port side. Rickson walked among his men, delivering a speech that was no doubt meant to shore up their courage, but the words washed over Rhis. She moved back to the quarterdeck, wanting the advantage of higher ground for as long as she could keep it. Glancing around the ship, she looked for Asher, but she didn’t see any sign of him. Good. Stay hidden, kid.