by Rob Scott
‘Erynn!’ Hannah shouted, her voice bouncing about the cavernous room. ‘Erynn, what are you thinking? Do you know how much trouble you’re in? How worried your parents are?’
‘Leave us alone!’ Erynn shouted, shocked that they had been discovered.
Hannah ignored her and started around the pier. ‘Milla? Are you okay, sweetie?’
‘It’s cold in here,’ Milla replied, ‘but I’m all right.’
‘We’re coming to get you, Pepperweed,’ Hoyt said.
‘Stay there,’ Karel warned, drawing his sword, but still looking like a child playing soldier in his father’s clothes.
‘And Karel, you stupid shit,’ Hannah was too angry to stop, ‘what’s wrong with you? Are you so lovestruck, you ignorant little bastard, that you’ve lost your mind? What are you planning to do, hand her over to the army? Sell her to a seaman? I’ll tell you this, Karel, you’re in over your head. Officers don’t take clandestine meetings in abandoned smokehouses. So do you know who’s coming here? Do you have any idea what you’ve done?’
Still snarling and brandishing the blade, Karel puffed up his chest to respond, but Erynn cut him off. ‘It’s you, isn’t it? You and Hoyt and Alen? You’re not her parents, you’re terrorists. I know it was you; I heard Hoyt saying he was going to bury them. He said it that night in the front room. I told you, I don’t try to overhear things, but sometimes I do. And, anyway, I know it was you who attacked that wagon train. You killed those soldiers, and you burned all that wheat. There are people in Treven who needed that wheat, Hannah! My grandfather is there, and he needs that wheat. He’s sick; you knew that. How could you be a terrorist?’
Hannah continued to make her way around the rectangular dock. ‘Erynn, you have it all so wrong – that wasn’t wheat, and it wasn’t headed for Treven.’
‘Liar!’ Karel shouted. ‘Don’t listen to her, Erynn.’
‘You’re wrong, Karel,’ Hoyt said, staggering beside Hannah. ‘It wasn’t wheat, but enchanted tree bark on its way to Welstar Palace, where it will be used in a monstrous spell. There are unimaginable horrors going on at the palace, and if you’ve got any bit of brain left in that empty head of yours, you’ll try to avoid being stationed there, ever. Tell me you haven’t heard rumours.’
Karel looked down at Milla. ‘They’re liars, Erynn. They’ll say anything to get her back.’
‘So what exactly are you planning to do?’ Hannah asked, trying to sound concerned, friendly. ‘You’ve kidnapped a little girl. How can you imagine this will end well for you?’
‘They’re just going to keep her until you tell the truth,’ Erynn said. ‘You have to turn yourselves in and tell them where the others are hiding.’
‘"They’re going to keep her"?’ Hannah echoed. ‘Who’s they, Erynn?’ Hannah and Hoyt were nearly all the way across the interior pier, rounding the final corner.
Erynn started to cry.
‘Who are you waiting for? Who’s meeting you here?’ Hannah realised she and Hoyt been so desperate to rescue Milla that they had come through the building without checking their flank. She looked now, quickly, for other routes to the outside.
‘We thought you would go quietly if you knew they had Milla,’ Erynn tried to explain, ‘otherwise you might have been hurt.’
‘You’re nothing but a pawn in their evil game, Erynn, and you too, Karel.’ Hoyt sounded disgusted. ‘They know Milla at Welstar Palace. They’ve been searching for her for the past Moon – surely you’ve seen them in their black and gold leathers? They’re Malagon’s personal police force. You think you’re heroes; you’re not. You’ve done nothing but endanger an innocent child, and you’d better pray to the gods of the Northern Forest Alen doesn’t find you.’
Exactly on cue, three men emerged from the smokehouse. Their black and gold uniforms outshone even Karel’s polished army leathers. Hannah had seen soldiers like these before, with their distinctive ceremonial capes; she flashed back to those chilling moments astride the flying buttress, hearing Churn call for her and then watching him slip away. ‘Oh shit, Erynn, what did you do?’ she said softly, despairingly.
‘Are these the ones?’ the tallest of the soldiers, a sergeant, by the markings on his sleeve, demanded of Karel.
Don’t do it, you prick, Hannah thought, please don’t turn us in.
‘Yes, Sergeant; that’s them,’ the boy said, shaking. And there’s another. He’s here somewhere, here in the district, anyway. His name is Alen Jasper and he’s from Middle Fork.’
‘Disarm her, and take them into custody,’ the sergeant ordered. ‘If they resist, kill the sick one; keep the woman. She can explain herself to the captain.’
Hannah had forgotten the knife, which she was still holding loosely; Hoyt had his scalpel beneath his cloak but he was in no condition to wield it, especially against these two. When the soldiers started for her, Hannah smiled nervously and tossed the blade into the sea. She held her hands up in surrender.
‘Wise decision, girlie,’ one of the soldiers said. ‘You’re going to live through the day. How about that?’
Hoyt mimicked Hannah, lifting his cloak over his shoulders and raising his arms.
‘Some terrorists, huh?’ The soldier elbowed his squad mate.
‘Deadly dangerous, eh?’ He twisted Hannah’s arm behind her back, ignoring her cry of pain, and ushered her towards Erynn and the others.
‘You injured, son?’ the second guard, a lean fellow with a rapier, asked Hoyt.
‘Just my shoulder,’ Hoyt replied, ‘a stab wound, but I’ll come quietly.’
‘Then I’ll lay off the arm, how’s that?’
‘Seems fair,’ Hoyt said and fell in behind Hannah, the soldier following with his rapier drawn.
The sergeant crossed to Karel and Erynn. ‘Surprisingly good work, soldier.’
‘Thank you, sir.’
‘Sergeant,’ he corrected the boy.
‘Sergeant, sorry, Sergeant.’ Karel flushed.
‘What’s going to happen to Milla?’ Erynn was still crying.
‘She’s going to Welstar Palace where she’ll be enslaved by Prince Malagon,’ Hoyt said. ‘All thanks to you, Erynn.’
‘Shut him up,’ the sergeant ordered. The soldier guarding Hoyt stabbed him through his already injured shoulder.
‘Ah, gods!’ Hoyt screamed as he fell, hitting his head on the chilly planks as blood soaked his tunic.
‘Hannah?’ Milla said, trying to disappear inside her blankets. ‘What’s happening?’
‘Don’t worry, sweetie.’ Hannah kept her voice calm, despite the pain in her elbow. Another inch and she was sure her arm would simply pop off.
Erynn stepped between the sergeant and the little girl. ‘No,’ she said, ‘you can’t have her until you tell me the truth. You have these two; why do you need to take-?’
The sergeant backhanded Erynn hard enough to knock her reeling. She stumbled to one side and Karel tried to catch her.
‘Hey,’ the boy shouted, ‘keep your hands off her! We’ve done our duty!’ He drew his sword, a toy compared to the array of weapons the Welstar guards carried.
‘No!’ Hannah screamed, but the boy was already staggering backwards, the sergeant’s short blade hilt-deep in his chest.
The sergeant picked up Milla and rewrapped her protectively in the blanket. ‘Come, my dear,’ he said. ‘We have a long trip home.’
Karel stumbled then collapsed. Stupid bastard, Hannah thought bitterly, he never had a chance.
The soldier holding Hannah’s arm said, ‘You, too, girlie. Let’s go.’
‘Let me help him, please,’ she said, nodding towards Hoyt.
‘He’ll be all right,’ the soldier said, then just stared at Hannah, a look of shock and confusion on his face. He released her arm as he cried out and fell, clutching his ankles.
Hoyt rolled onto his back after he’d used his scalpel to slash the guard’s heel tendons. The man stood for a moment, then folded up, cursing, and tugging at his short
-sword. The guard with the rapier tried to run Hoyt through, but the moment’s distraction as he’d watched Karel die had allowed Hoyt to slice into the man’s knee, straight through the ligaments.
Hoyt would have preferred to disable both legs, but he had lost the element of surprise and had no option now but to dive outside the rapier’s range before attempting a second attack. He didn’t know how he would deal with the sergeant; the man already had Milla in his arms and might kill her before Hoyt could get off the floor. He was dizzy, sweating with fever, and bleeding, but he had to stay lucid.
What would Churn do? he thought, but came up with nothing except: Beat the grettanshit out of everyone. That wasn’t much of an option for the weary would-be surgeon.
‘Stop!’ the sergeant screamed, drawing his sword. He was still holding Milla, but he knew he could best Hoyt one-handed. He didn’t give Hannah a passing glance as he hurried to assist his men.
‘No,’ a small voice interrupted imperiously, ‘don’t you hurt him.’
The sergeant felt pressure in his chest, but he ignored it. This fight would be over in two breaths. One of his men lay crippled, the other was bravely trying to attack while dragging a bloody leg.
‘I said no!’ The voice was angry this time, and the Malakasian felt an iron fist grip his heart. He gaped at the little girl in his arms. She had a tiny hand pressed flat against his chest and was pouting up at him, her bottom lip trembling in the cold.
He dropped his sword, ignoring his men as they fought on, determined to kill everyone in the warehouse, and stumbled around. He stared at the tiny girl, little more than a baby, frowning back at him and held her tightly – he had no other choice – as he staggered to his left and fell into the freezing waters of the North Sea.
‘Milla!’ Hannah shrieked. She turned to Hoyt, but he was already crawling to the pier’s edge. The rapier-wielder, still armed and deadly despite his knee injury, thrust as Hoyt passed; he missed, but only by an inch or two. Hannah saw an opportunity and took it, shoving into the guard with her shoulder. As she crashed into him, they seemed to hang in mid-air, then went over the side and through the thin sheet of ice.
‘Milla,’ Hannah choked, and kicked away from the injured Malakasian. The cold hit her like a train; she would only have a few minutes before hypothermia set in. ‘Milla! Sweetie, where are you?’ she called urgently.
‘I’m over here,’ the little girl said, ‘watch me, Hannah! Watch this.’ She was swimming furiously, kicking and paddling with her determined little chin thrust out of the water. ‘I’m doing the scramble!’ she howled with pleasure, completely ignoring the dead body floating beside her. ‘Watch me, Hannah, watch how well I’m doing.’
Certain her skin had already turned blue, Hannah turned to look at the second soldier. He’d managed to get to one of the slippery supporting pylons, but couldn’t get a grip on the ice. He was shouting up to his comrade, the one with the severed Achilles tendon, but apart from calling down words of encouragement, the third Malakasian was able to offer little help.
Hannah paddled over to Milla, and wasn’t surprised to find the water around the little girl was as warm as a summer bath. ‘You are a great swimmer,’ she said, and dropped a kiss on her head.
‘We have to tell my Mama, and Alen,’ Milla said excitedly, and then she remembered the sergeant. ‘I’m sorry, Hannah,’ she started to say, downcast, ‘but he wanted to get Hoyt, and I thought-’
‘Milla, it’s fine, sweetie,’ Hannah said, and kissed her again. ‘Don’t you think about it another moment, all right?’
‘All right!’ She looked around. ‘Do we have to go now?’
‘We should. How about we swim together to that wooden ladder outside the big doors?’
‘All right,’ Milla repeated as she started to paddle away. ‘Do you think there are sharks?’
‘No, sweetie, no sharks; it’s too cold.’
‘Good, because I’m afraid of sharks.’
‘I’m afraid of sharks too,’ Hannah told her, then shouted to the Malakasian guard who was screaming and tearing his fingernails on the pylon, ‘Hey, hey! You want to live? You’d better come with us.’
‘I can’t- I can’t do it… I need-’
‘Shut up!’ Hannah shouted, surprising herself. ‘Get over here, the water’s warmer.’
Hoyt was kneeling above her, watching through glazed eyes. ‘You sure you want to do that?’
‘We’ll be fine. How are you?’
‘Never better,’ Hoyt murmured. ‘I’m just going to lie down for a bit while you two climb out of there.’
‘Stay awake, Hoyt,’ Hannah shouted, then to Milla said, ‘come on, Pepperweed. We’ve got to hurry.’
Captain Ford drank his third beer. It wasn’t enough to get him drunk but it would soften up his corners a bit. He never got drunk before going to sleep; he needed to be able to get on deck in a hurry should the overnight watch cry out. He skewered a piece of Tubbs’s jemma, simple but hearty fare, and with the schools running south, there were plenty for the taking. He never tired of watching the old sailor heave his ancient net over the rail. Tubbs would never allow anyone to help him, and sometimes he had a hard job of it to keep from being dragged overboard.
Save for two lamps the captain’s cabin was dark. The Morning Star, riding the heavy, rhythmic swells towards Averil, rocked gently. Other than when he was at the helm, this was Captain Ford’s favourite time at sea.
He thought of Kendra, back home, and wanted very badly to be with her. She wouldn’t mind if he came into Southport with an empty hold; she knew the run from Strandson to Orindale had been a gamble, but she also knew that he had to take it. They had plenty of money to see them through the winter Twinmoon, even without an inbound shipment, but Captain Ford had his crew to think of. He needed to keep them working, earning enough that they wouldn’t need to consider leaving the Morning Star for a bigger, more lucrative boat. He was happy with the brig-sloop; she was not the biggest of ships, but she was quick. His crew knew their jobs, got on well with one another, and were invariably ready for the next run. He was lucky; there wasn’t much turnover of manpower on the Morning Star, so he rarely had to worry about new people getting used to the culture established over time and adventures together.
But this journey had put all of that in jeopardy. He had put everything in harm’s way – his lifestyle, his crew, his ship, everything – for a bag of silver, and he felt sick to the stomach about it. He regretted ever letting Brexan talk him into delaying his Orindale contracts for this ‘daisy-run’ into Averil – daisy-run? He was shipping sorcerers, partisans, killers to Malakasia. What would Eastland partisans want with Averil? Were they planning to burn the city down? Poison the flour shipments, maybe sink a few galleons? Who knew what these people were capable of? He propped his elbows on the table and rested his forehead in his palms and sighed. ‘But you brought them there, didn’t you?’ he said out loud. ‘You rowed them to shore, even gave them a big, wet slathery kiss as they said farewell and began planting their explosives. So they all get killed, but not before they mention you and your boat during the interrogation. Then you get to spend the rest of your life shipping dirt to dirt farmers in Dirt Village for free, because no one in Eldarn will hire you. Or, even better, you get to run from the Malakasian navy until they finally corner you in some gods-forsaken cove at the arse-end of nowhere and burn your ship to the waterline. And all because Marrin Stonnel got you thinking about tits one night after one too many beers. And maybe it would have been different if she had just walked over to the table, but no, the place was crowded, and she almost danced her way to us. That’s all there was too it: bad luck, bad timing and bad decisions.’
Captain Ford finished his beer, tried to steer his thoughts back to his wife, and considered opening a fourth bottle. Maybe it would help him sleep after all. He stabbed another mouthful and cursed, ‘No, you bastard, no easy rest for you tonight.’
A knock at the door derailed his thoughts. ‘Marrin
,’ he growled, ‘bugger off-’
Brexan stepped inside. ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘I didn’t know you were eating.’
‘Of course they sent you,’ he muttered.
‘Of course who sent me? For what? Did I miss something?’ she sounded genuinely confused.
Have you not been huddled all day in the forward cabin with Garec, Kellin and those new fellows, the two young men we picked up this morning?’
‘Yes, but-’
‘So they sent you.’ He reached into his crate for another beer. It was heavy, clumsy to ship in bottles, but he didn’t care for fennaroot, and wine was a luxury, like tecan, a port drink. And I’m certain I know why they sent you. I’ve had my dose of Garec Haile and his esoteric brand of diplomacy. Does he kill everyone he meets, I wonder? So that wouldn’t work; after all, I’m already in fear for my life, my crew and my ship. So you wouldn’t get any further with me by sending Garec. But you’re not stupid, are you? You know I’ve taken a fancy to you, call it a schoolboy crush, maybe, or a feeling of getting a bit older and losing a step and wanting badly to have it back. And ka-blam, you enter my life, bat your pretty eyes at me and ask me to ship your friends to Averil. Of course, I say yes. What else can I say? It’s a huge amount of silver for almost no work, and I get to spend the better part of the next Moon watching you, Brexan, I watch you hauling lines, and mopping decks and even helping Tubbs dole out the evening crud for supper. I’m getting older, and I should know better, I should have known better, but I didn’t, and now I’m here, waiting to see what bucket of grettanshit they’ve sent you in here to sell me.’