by Max Irons
"I'm sorry that happened to them," Galeron said. "If I were a Drake, wouldn't I be telling you an easier lie than insisting Prince Lattimer lives?"
"Deathstalker, it doesn't matter what you do or do not think," Frontino said. "I have no way of trusting you or verifying your information. You insist a dead prince lives, and that your friend is in danger, yet all you have to prove it is your word."
Galeron bit the inside of his mouth. "Then go ask Tondra. She'll confirm my story, in between swearing at me."
"Your only proof is a captured mageling, whom you spared?" Frontino shook his head. "No, I think not. The two of you may have colluded, and her capture was but a part of the plot."
Boiling bones, but the man was paranoid. Galeron ran a hand through his sodden hair. That was pretty much it. Were there any tricks left to play? If so, he couldn't think of them. Ice chilled the inside of his stomach, and his gut gurgled.
"Bring me her head, and then we may see if I trust you," Frontino said.
Galeron's eyes locked on to the commander. Had he heard right? "You want me to kill her?"
"If you are no Drake sympathizer, you should have no qualms about it." The commander met his gaze. "What do you say? Trade her life for the life of your friend."
He blinked. What kind of madness was possessing him? "I can't just go kill her."
"Why not?" Frontino asked. "She's destined for the chopping block. Perhaps you can give her a more merciful death."
Galeron gaped. He couldn't just kill her in the infirmary. Then again, he was facing an enemy who disregarded the law, who could be as brutal and manipulative as he needed so long as the job was done. Atreus certainly didn't care about the morality of his actions. Perhaps this was one instance where he would have to match his enemy's tactics with his own. What choice was there?
And why couldn't he say yes?
He had no feelings for her, and he'd been forced to kill Delktian women, who fought alongside their men, during his long years behind enemy lines. Taking a life was nothing new, but they'd all been during the heat of open war. A time and place where everything he loved stood at the breaking point. Staying his blade condemned thousands, even tens of thousands, to death.
Tondra was different. He'd captured her, ensured she was given proper care, and he'd even gotten vital information without having to really interrogate her. On one level, he knew she was destined to die, but, whether he agreed or not with Soren's laws, they applied to everyone. She had known the consequences of her actions. Death by the king's headsman was more...justified. He, Galeron, did not have the right to dictate the when and where of a man's death.
In battle, both combatants surrendered that right. It was an unspoken agreement. In the infirmary, even in prison cells, no such agreement existed. Could he live with himself, every time he saw Iven, knowing that to save him, he'd killed a woman in cold blood? He could almost hear Iven shouting at him.
"Boiling bones, Galeron, this pretty face isn't worth that much."
Galeron looked at Commander Frontino. "No."
Frontino nodded. "Then go pester someone else with your sob story." He grunted. "I knew you had a soft spot for them."
CHAPTER TWENTY
Galeron turned away. If Iven wasn't dead already, now he soon would be. He walked out of the building, head low. That was it. There were no other options. No more cards to play, no more dice to throw. He could send word to King Soren, but it would be a week with a currier just to get to Harracourt, and a further week to receive a response. Iven might be able to hold out, if he kept moving in the caves, for a few more hours, perhaps even a day or two at the most, but after that, well...
The wind tore at his tunic, snapping it about like a flag on a pole. It stung his eyes, so he kept them at a squint and studied one of the ships bobbing at port. A barnacle-encrusted hull surfaced every so often in the rolling sea. The bronze drake mounted as a figurehead snarled down at him with its wide, lizard-like maw. It was taunting him. He couldn't seem to get away from a drake in one form or another.
Galeron scowled back and kept walking. His bare feet padded over the stone walkway, leaving damp footprints in his wake.
He stopped moving at the stairs to the naval yard parapet. Galeron slumped against the wall and sat on the ground. He breathed deeply, but his mind continued to wander, to obsess. The Drakes were too well defended and outnumbered him. To return was to die, and a fat lot of good that would do. He slammed his head back in frustration and hit the wall. His skull throbbed as silver stars danced in his vision.
"That won't help anyone."
Galeron looked up. Lonni stood over him, arms crossed beneath her breasts. "What do you want?"
Lonni arched an eyebrow and sat across from him, folding her legs to one side. "Iven is in trouble, and this is your response?"
"What do you expect from me?" asked Galeron. "I can't go back to the caves on my own. I'm outnumbered and outclassed. The commander doesn't believe me. In fact, it's worse than that. He thinks I'm a Drake sympathizer. Anything I say is going to sound like I'm trying to lead him into an ambush. Where exactly is my next move?"
Lonni stared at him for a moment. "Then we try it another way."
Galeron snorted. "What's that?"
She looked him dead in the eye. "He doesn't believe you, but you're assuming all of this is on your shoulders."
"It is," Galeron said. "My job, my friend, my problem."
"Galeron, blast it, why are you so thick?" Lonni asked. "Have you not considered asking for help?"
He scowled at her. "There's no one to ask. My only option accused me of treason...again."
"Honestly, why do I bother?" Lonni put one hand to her forehead and fell silent for a moment, eyes closed. She opened them after a bit and glared at him. "You still don't..." She bit her lip. "What am I, an invalid?"
Galeron blinked. What did that have to do with anything?
Lonni let out a guttural sigh before standing up and jerking him to his feet. "Go back in there. We're going to convince that pig-headed commander that you're right."
"We?" asked Galeron. She didn't have a stake in this. "Why should you care? You said yourself that your debt is paid up."
"Have you considered the possibility that this isn't about you?" Lonni asked. "Maybe I believe Prince Lattimer is still alive. If I can, I'm not going to let some cautious commander dig in his heels because he doesn't like the person with information. This is my homeland, too."
With that, she grabbed him by the arm and dragged him back into the commander's quarters, slamming the door open and causing everyone to look up. Rand frowned at her and opened his mouth, but Lonni spoke before he could get a word out.
"Commander, you may not trust him, but I do," she said, boring holes in Frontino's skull with her eyes.
Frontino looked up from the map on the floor and sighed. "Lonni, you're a firespeaker, not a naval commander. You are allowed to be a bit more...lax with those you trust."
"You accept my dust blends without question, but you don't think I can judge a man's character?" she asked.
Frontino glared at her. "There is a great difference between dust and men. Your ingredients have no motives. Men do."
"I could just as easily give you unstable dust, or dust that won't burn, if I wanted," Lonni said.
"You'd destroy your father's business," Frontino said.
She nodded. "That's my point. Galeron is a sell-sword, and his business is the king's business, so long as the contract remains." She glanced at him. "Am I right?"
"Yes," Galeron said. Why was she bringing all this up?
"Sell-swords are inherently selfish," said Lonni. "They aren't known for their dedication to anything but coin."
Galeron winced. Ouch, Lonni. What do you really think of me?
"Right now, the king is paying him, so until his contract is up, his loyalty lies with the crown." She looked at Galeron again. "When is the contract considered complete?"
"When Atreus, or his corps
e, lies in front of King Soren," he said.
Lonni raised her eyebrows. "There you have it. The best guarantee of loyalty: greed."
"Then why wouldn't he kill the mageling?" asked Frontino. "Answer me that."
"I was hoping for a harder question," Lonni said. "If you're good at something, why do it for free? You wouldn't have paid Galeron to kill her, and you didn't even guarantee anything beyond a few vagaries."
Frontino paused. "The Drakes could be manipulating him without his knowing."
Lonni nodded. "It's always possible, but I could claim the same thing about you."
"Preposterous," the commander said, his mustache quivering.
"Maybe, but your evidence is all about coincidence," said Lonni. "What if Galeron is right, and word gets out that you did nothing to help the prince?" She put her hands on her hips. "If Prince Lattimer and Iven die because of your cowardice, I'll make sure everyone knows."
Frontino narrowed his eyes. "Are you threatening me, girl?"
Lonni drew herself up to full height, allowing her to look at the commander eye to eye. "I thought it was obvious. My father and I might operate from Azura, but all of the Broton fleets do at least some business with us." She smiled, but the expression didn't reach her eyes. "I've known Admiral Turner for years. He likes to drop by and ask my opinion on naval gunnery from time to time. He'd be very interested to know that one of his commanders knew Prince Lattimer's location and did nothing with it."
"He would never believe you," said Frontino, though his voice quivered.
"Wouldn't he?" Lonni laughed. "Who has more of a reason to lie? The firespeaker, who has no rank in the navy, or the commander who wants to preserve his career?" She intertwined her hands behind her back. "Do I need to explain anything else?"
Frontino clenched his jaw and glared at her. Galeron squashed the butterflies in his stomach. It might work. The argument might hold. Frontino's face contorted as he stood, junior officers and aides watching him. The entire office had grown silent, and no one shuffled a single piece of parchment. Galeron's muscles stiffened the longer the silence held. He had to agree. There wasn't another way out of it, not that he could see. Maybe they'd save Iven after all.
"There is one condition," the commander said.
"What?" asked Lonni.
"If you trust him so much, you'll go with him," Frontino said.
Galeron stared at him. Lonni go with them? "Out of the question," he said.
"Consider it done," Lonni said.
Frontino turned to one of the junior officers. "Assemble the marine officers. Get them back in here in the next few minutes." The officer nodded and bolted out of the room. Frontino shuffled about with maps and papers. "Get everything together for a sea assault. Target: Tearlach Cave."
The room exploded into action as dozens of people scrambled to retrieve information.
Galeron's heart plummeted from his throat to his gut as he pulled Lonni aside. "Why did you do that? You know what I'm going back into. You've seen what Tondra could do. Hektor and Atreus are far more powerful than she is. You're going to get yourself killed."
She glared at him. "I am not some helpless maiden from a tapestry. I take care of myself, and we're going with hundreds of marines."
"Hundreds of marines that either of those mages could wipe away in a few short minutes," Galeron said. "I can't promise you'll come back alive."
"Then don't promise," she said, poking him in the chest. "Make sure of it. Otherwise my wraith will come back, and you won't have a moment's peace."
Rand slid out from behind a few of the officers and made his way to them, putting one arm around Lonni and pulling her aside. They exchanged a few heated words Galeron couldn't hear over the mad scramble. Rand stormed away and had even more animated words with Commander Frontino while Galeron continued to watch the proceedings.
Marine officers filed in and stood at the borders of the map, swords hanging by their sides. A few more minutes passed, and more officers entered, clad in the dark cloth and leather armor that set them apart from the ground forces and their plate armor. Frontino squeezed away from Rand and walked to the middle of the map, pointing at a position now marked with several black figurines and consulting a few random pieces of parchment. Rand, an uncharacteristic scowl plaster to his face, shoved aside a few junior officers and returned to Lonni.
"The Drakes have holed themselves up in the Tearlach Caves," he said, jabbing at the cluster with his cane. "There's only one way in or out for a large company of men, the sea cave itself. There are five openings in the cliff face that we know of, but that survey was done over ten years ago. Expect a lot of attacks from above on the initial approach." He scowled at the officers. "There's no hiding our ships. The storm might help, but it will hurt us more than them." Frontino pointed at one of the officers. "Arno, you and Gil will command the ketches and provide covering fire for us on the approach. Make sure you get your mathematics right."
Galeron slipped between officers over to Rand and whispered, "What's a ketch?" as Frontino assigned commands for the troop vessels.
"A ship with a culverin that fires straight up," Rand whispered back. "The cliffs are too high for anything else. Beastly slow, but they're loaded with night dust and iron shot. Horrible place to be during a pitched sea battle. It's like riding a turtle, but not so bad during a land assault."
"The rest of you have your own units to command," Frontino said. "Lieutenant Mason, you and your men will guard and escort the Deathstalker and his companion. Don't leave his side, and engage only when there is no other choice."
Lieutenant Mason, a tall and broad beast of a marine, squinted at Galeron through beady eyes and scowled. "What about the Drakes?" he rumbled.
"Leave them to the other units," Frontino said. "Your concern is for Prince Lattimer. His rescue is the whole point of this strike."
Mason nodded. "So be it."
"Are there any questions?" asked Frontino. The marine officers shifted in place, but they didn't say anything. "Assaulting the caves in a storm is not the ideal, I know, but, if our spies report correctly..." He glanced at Galeron. "The prince may not have much longer. Courage, men. Our king crushed thousands of them at White Mountain. Surely you marines can handle a few hundred." That elicited a few laughs from the officers. Frontino nodded. "To your ships, then."
The marines slammed fist to chest in salute and filed out of the map room. Galeron and Lonni followed, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him. Rand pulled him off to one side, gripping his arm tightly enough to cut off blood flow.
"Look at me," he said.
Galeron met his gaze. His gray eyes didn't contain the fire and flash of his daughter. They were harder, unmoving, like stone. He knew that look. It haunted him every time he chanced a look in a mirror. Some men had seen too much. The eyes gave it away.
"Lonni is taking a big risk for you," Rand said. His voice was cold, devoid of the excitement and warmth Galeron had grown used to on the road. "I did not agree to it. I still don't, but she is a grown woman and can make decisions for herself." He swallowed. "Even so, I can't stop being a father. You know what you'll find at Tearlach. Many of those marines, no matter how fierce they are, won't come back." He got up in Galeron's face, grip tightening. Galeron could smell soured grapes on his breath. "You make sure she comes back to me. You make blasted sure she lives."
Galeron nodded. "I didn't ask for this either, but I swear to you, I will take better care of her life than I will my own."
Rand grunted. "See that you do. I tried to go in her stead, but Oliver wouldn't have it. Said if I really trusted you, I would trust you with her. I know your skill. I've heard the stories. Today, I hope the legends understated everything."
Legends, blasted legends. "I'll bring her back, Rand, or I won't come back at all."
He released Galeron's arm. "Smooth sailing to you then, Deathstalker."
Galeron sighed. "I hate that name."
Rand gave him a small smile. "As a good sol
dier should."
Galeron left the map room, the blood returning to his fingertips with pinpricks of pain. Lonni was waiting for him outside the door.
"What took you so long?" she asked.
"Rand had a few pieces of advice," he said.
Lonni frowned. "He made you promise to look after me, didn't he?"
"Something like that," Galeron said.
"I can take care of myself." She gave him a sly grin. "I don't actually know Admiral Turner. I met him one time, but I thought my bluff turned out rather well. Let's get to the armory. We can't fight rebels dressed like this."
She'd been bluffing? He sighed inwardly. Women. You just never know with them.
Galeron followed her to the other end of the horseshoe-shaped harbor and into a structure facing the infirmary on the other side. They entered and found the place buzzing with activity as marines donned their boiled leather armor and collected weapons from the barrels against the walls. Most of them carried short spears or polearms of some variety, but a few, maybe junior officers, walked about with short swords. Three marines filed past them and out the door with large bronze canisters strapped to their backs. What were those for?
"Grab whatever strikes you," Lonni said. "I've got to speak with the master at arms."
She left his side, and Galeron wandered about the armory. Whatever struck him? He ignored the shiny suits of armor. If he fell out of the boat, there would be no coming back from the deep with that. He swapped out his wet clothes for a new, or at least new to him, set of trousers, tunic, woolen stockings and boots. Galeron grabbed a mail shirt that dropped all the way to his knees, though thankfully it split at the waist for easier walking. He pulled a leather jerkin over it, covering his chest, and strapped his sword to his waist.
His left hand felt empty, and he searched the armory walls for a shield to his liking. Most of the available models were door-sized greatshields that lockmen hid behind on the battlefield. Useful, but only for those two-man teams. Galeron kept searching. None of them had his old shield's thin metal coating, which didn't really surprise him. It had been a Delktian model he'd scavenged from a battlefield. He sighed. If only it hadn't been so heavy. He slipped a flanged mace into his belt to replace the ax, and he was still missing a helmet.