Chosen by Fire

by Harriet Locksley

  The square patch of sky was a rich, deep blue by the time Ewan descended the stairs again with a tray of food, ale and rushlights. Kaetha’s appetite returning, she ate more haggis, neeps and bread than she thought she ever had before. She even had room for pears and honey cakes afterwards.

  “Can we afford all this?” she said, tucking in to her second honey cake.

  “That’s right, ask after you’ve eaten it all,” laughed Donnan.

  “It’s fine,” said Alistair. “I’ll pay whatever Ewan will let me.”

  Ale flowed and, as the sky darkened, they talked cheerfully, as if they had all agreed to forget the parting that loomed ahead. Alistair had them all laughing as he recounted stories of the drunken expoits of his youth which involved contriving to place a large hog in the bed of a sleeping laird.

  “He was dead drunk,” chuckled Alistair. “So we then decided to see how many fish we could put down his trews without him noticing. We even—” he caught Gwyn’s eye. “Well, perhaps the rest is a story for another time.”

  Silence fell. One rushlight dimmed and went out.

  “It’s time for me to go, isn’t it?” said Kaetha.

  “Aye,” said Gwyn. “I’m afraid so.”

  Kaetha got to her feet and put on her cloak.

  With an involuntary groan of pain, Aedan got up. “Here lass,” he said. “I forgot to thank you for this.” He took Morwena’s copper clasp and pinned it onto Kaetha’s cloak. “Seeing it gave me hope. May it do the same for you.” He smiled at her then, his old, familiar smile and, in that instant, it was as if none of this had happened, as if they were back at home in Braddon and all of this had been a story. But then her aunt was handing her the leather bag and the reality that this was goodbye flooded back.

  “The ship’s moored at the end of Orach Bay furthest from the citadel,” said her aunt. “It’s called the Tide Turner. Now, remember, there are many ears on a ship, so best not use your real name to the crew and passengers. I’ve paid for you to go as far as Roustowe in Angaul.”

  “But this money will allow you to travel much further if you need to.” Alistair pressed a purse into her hands.

  “And here, take my ring,” said Gwyn, pulling the gold signet ring with the symbol of the crownstar flower off her finger. “There. it’s yours now. If you happen to meet any Edonians on your travels, show them this and they are bound to show you hospitality.”

  Aedan took Kaetha aside. “Vinbourg isn’t far from Roustowe,” he said in a low voice. “Countess Margaret Brodeur of Vinbourg is a relation of the late Queen Donella. She’s an ally of Rhona’s and no friend of Svelrik’s. I believe she would help you if you found yourself in need of someone powerful to protect you.” Returning to the others, he spoke so that all could hear him again. “You should find work in trading goods. You’ve a good mind for that. You’ll do fine, lass.”

  “Or you could join a troupe of travelling players,” suggested Alistair. “That’s always been my dream.”

  “I’ll think about it,” said Kaetha with a smile.

  “In any case, there’s enough money to keep you going for a long while,” said Gwyn. “Just keep it safe.”

  “I wish I could see you to the ship,” said Aedan.

  “I will,” said Mairi.

  Donnan stepped forward. “And me.”

  “I could go with you too.” After catching Kaetha’s eye, Gwyn’s gaze fell to the floor. “If you like,” she added. “Make sure you get there safely.”

  “Too many might draw attention though,” said Aedan.

  “And I’ll have Tam,” said Kaetha. “He can be hidden at the same time as watching out for us.”

  Gwyn nodded. “Of course.”

  Kaetha hugged everyone, trying not to cry as she said her farewells. Upon reaching the door that led to the alleyway, she unconsciously touched her sleeve, beneath which sat the stones, secure in their copper bands.

  “Ready?” said Donnan.

  “Aye.”

  She, Mairi, Donnan and Tam left The Star, winding through the dark streets, down to Orach Bay.

  “Look,” whispered Tam.

  The glimmer of a lantern came nearer.

  “What if he’s a Bluecap?” said Mairi.

  “Shh. Tam, you should hide.” Kaetha knew it was too late for the rest of them to hide from the man who approached, so she tried to sound confident, as if it was perfectly normal for them to be on the docks at that hour. “Good evening,” she said.

  The man grunted. “What you doing here?”

  “My master has a shipment of goods waiting to leave the country. He sent us to make sure no one steals from it,” said Kaetha.

  “Oh, aye? Which ship?”

  “The Tide Turner,” she said. It was, in fact, the only ship in port which she knew the name of.

  “What’s the shipment?”

  Kaetha hesistated.

  “Chickens,” said Donnan.

  “Gwyn Trylenn sent you?” said the man.

  “Aye.” Kaetha felt a wave of relief. “You’re Abel Mercier?”

  “You’re lucky I am. Bloody chickens?” he exclaimed. “If I’d have been a Bluecap you wouldn’t have got far with bloody chickens. You were better off letting the lass do the talking, lad.”

  “Sorry,” said Donnan.

  Abel grunted again. “Come on then. Follow me.” He took them to where his ship was moored. It was too dark to see it, but Kaetha heard it creaking gently, water lapping at its sides. “You must stay below deck until I fetch you. Crew are at the inn tonight, along with a couple of other passengers but people will be about before dawn. You need to stay hidden.”

  “We will,” said Donnan.

  Kaetha turned to him. “We?”

  “Here’s enough money for me too,” he said, handing Abel a purse which, by the sound of it, was fat with coins.

  “Only expected to have one to smuggle out,” said Abel.

  “One more won’t make much difference,” said Donnan.

  “Where did you get the money?” Kaetha asked.

  “Alistair. You didn’t think I was going to let you go off to Angaul on your own, did you?”

  “But Donnan, you can’t come, it might be dangerous,” she said. “Mairi, tell him.”

  “I think,” said Mairi, “that this plan is better. I know you have Tam but I’d much rather that Donnan was with you too.”

  “Come here a moment,” said Kaetha and she pulled Donnan out of earshot of the others. “Donnan, I need to go alone. You see, I’m not just escaping. I’ve thought about it. I’ve decided I’m not going off to an easier life. I’m going to find Rhona. I’m going to use what power I have to serve and support her. Svelrik cannot continue to rule.” Unconsciously she made her hands into fists. “I want to persuade her to come and take back her throne. With my magic, I might be able to help her. Only with her ready to take the throne can we defeat him, get the Water stone, end his power and put the right power in place.”

  “You said ‘we’.” From his tone of voice, she could tell that he was smiling.

  “I meant—”

  “Then that’s what we’ll do,” he said. “Or we’ll do the best we can at any rate.”

  “But I don’t want to put you in danger.”

  “You need to stop feeling responsible for me. It’s my choice. We’re doing this together.”

  “I don’t know what it would take to scare you off.”

  “To be honest, I think you’re scarier than the prospect of a battle for the throne.”

  She laughed. “Come on then. We shouldn’t linger.”

  When they returned to the others, Kaetha hugged Mairi again. “Tam will walk you back,” she said, raising her voice a little to make sure that Tam heard her, wherever he was. She knew that he would have no difficulty in finding his way back to the ship and hiding himself somewhere on board. “Goodbye, Mairi.”

  “A fair wind to your sails.” Mairi held Kaetha’s face and kissed her forehead. “I’ll miss you.
”

  “And I you.”

  “Look after each other,” Mairi said as she hugged Donnan.

  Abel looked up suddenly.

  “Is someone there?” asked Kaetha.

  Abel held up a finger and was silent for several moments. “We’re fine,” he said, eventually, though Kaetha thought that she saw a movement in the shadows too. “Hurry now, this way.” He led Kaetha and Donnan to the ship. “Watch your step.”

  They followed the bobbing light of his lantern across the deck, through a door and down a flight of steps into the hold. They negotiated their way between barrels and crates, breathing in the musty fragrances of hides and fleeces.

  “Here.” Abel held his lantern before a narrow gap between high stacked crates. “Squeeze through there and don’t come out until I tell you to.”

  When they were both in the dark hiding place, they listened to the sound of his footsteps as he went back up the steps. When the door shut, they were in total darkness. Kaetha couldn’t spread out her arms without touching crates at either side of her.

  “I feel like I’m in a cell again,” she said, her chest tightening.

  “Just breathe,” said Donnan. “This is the opposite of a cell. It’s a step towards freedom.”

  “Thank you, Donnan. For coming with me.”

  “You’re glad of it?”

  “Aye, I’m glad of it.”

  Kaetha didn’t know when she had last let herself fall into a deep sleep. When she woke up, she did not feel as though she had slept long. She was lying beside Donnan with her arm over his chest. She blinked a few times, then sprang to her feet.

  “Good morning,” he said, getting up too.

  The boat lurched, sending Kaetha into Donnan’s arms.

  “Careful,” she said as they managed to steady one another. Then she realised what this meant. “We’re at sea.” She grinned and hugged him. “We’re at sea!”

  He laughed.

  “I hope Tam got on board alright.”

  Abel came to get them and, as he led them up onto the deck and into daylight, she told him what name she had decided to travel under.

  The crew were busy manouvering the vessel. Kaetha gazed up at the huge sails which bulged in the wind. Turning, she saw Ciadrath shrinking away, the last sanctuary she had shared with her family along with the place that had left her scarred.

  “And so we go,” she said, “away from those we love and those we hate.”

  “We’ll come back some day,” said Donnan. “With Rhona.”

  “Aye,” she agreed, holding his hand. “We’ll return.” She smiled as Tam, in mouse form, scuttled into a crate of grain sacks. Watch out for rats, she thought.

  The sails rippled, then a blast of air smoothed them out, speeding the ship along. The air was cold, crisp and salty. To Kaetha, it smelt like freedom. She looked up, a tingling tracing her neck. Thank you, friend, she thought, sensing Gaoth flying unseen, the fair wind to their sails.

  I hope we meet again, he thought back to her.

  She nodded.

  Wobbling a little with the motion of the waves, she and Donnan made their way to the bow of the ship.

  “Mairi Trylenn?” said a short, muscular member of the crew who approached them.

  “Aye?” she said.

  “Compliments of the captain,” he croaked, handing each of them a cup. “We all have a dram to start the journey, for good luck.”

  Donnan raised his cup. “Good luck.”

  She tapped his cup with hers. “What’s for us won’t go by us,” she said, just as her father had on their first drink together on their journey to Braddon what seemed like a lifetime ago. The whisky was like fire going down her throat, warming her against the chill air. The ship veered in an easterly direction. Ahead of them, the sea gleamed in the pale morning sun, like the hot steel of a weapon being forged.