Storm Unbound

by Leo Hull

  “You aren’t allowed to hit us! We’ll go to the Arbiter—”

  “Fuck the Arbiter and fuck the contract,” the man yelled, breathing heavily while one of the women sobbed.

  Angry footsteps tromped up the hall, doors being thrown open and clanging loudly against the walls. There was no attempt at stealth by the guard, and he moved so quickly Tristan hoped he would overlook the dark corner they hid in. He eased a dagger into his hand, just in case.

  The man’s angry stomps softened as he moved closer, and by the time he got to Tristan and Nessa’s hiding place he opened the doors gently, muttering to himself about why Sora made him hit her. He pushed their door open, sweeping his gaze around cursorily.

  It was Nessa’s anger that gave them away, her eyes glittering with rage like a prowling predator on the edge of camp waiting for the fire to die and darkness to descend to pounce. Nessa didn’t hesitate. As soon as the man’s silhouette went rigid with recognition, she called upon her Gift and Tristan’s. Lightning shot from her, crackling energy that slammed into the man hard enough for him to stumble.

  He didn’t fall.

  The guard guided Nessa’s current downwards, dispersing it into the floor and gritting his teeth as he struggled to draw his sword. Tristan sprang forward, his body crying in protest as he pushed himself one last time.

  “They’re here! Sora, Fya, to—” The guard’s cry for help ended when steel bloomed from his chest, a lightning rod that Nessa’s fury followed to his core. He fell to the ground before Tristan had taken two steps, his body twitching even after Nessa’s attack ended. Tristan threw himself to the side, expecting a counterattack, but none came.

  In the doorway a scared looking young woman backed away, her hand trembling and her eyes focused on the body of the man she’d just stabbed in the back. She wore the thin, short robes of the Fallen’s Guard and had an empty scabbard at her hip. She didn’t even bother to look at Tristan.

  “Fya, what happened?” Sora asked, an older woman approaching with puffy eyes and a split lip that was already starting to swell. She wore the same robes and had a sword in hand that drooped when she caught sight of the dead man halfway into the room. “Fuck, what did you do?”

  Fya finally looked up, yelping as she caught sight of Tristan staring at her from the dark room. He didn’t want to fight, but neither could he let these women raise the alarm. He moved forward, Fya stumbling backwards and Sora trying to get her sword up, but Nessa intervened.

  “Wait!” the silver-haired Spark cried, throwing herself between them. She looked exhausted and swayed on her feet. She had an arm on Tristan’s chest and one out towards the guards, but she struggled to keep them from drooping. “Can you help us?”

  “Help you?” Sora frowned, her forehead scrunching. “We’re supposed to be trying to capture you. You’re the ones that left the mess upstairs, right?”

  “I was held captive by those men. We didn’t have a choice, just like you two. But now you do. You can help us get out of here and we can help you.” Nessa gestured at the body of their Ground. “Say that we ambushed you and killed him. The split lip will make it believable.”

  Sora paused, licking her bloody, swollen lip and considering Nessa’s words. It looked like she wanted any reason to let them go.

  “We should do it,” Fya said from behind Sora with surprising resolve. “Talek wants them, which is enough reason for me to want to help them. We can take them to the escape hatch.”

  “Why should we trust you?” Sora finally asked, the point of her sword wavering.

  “Because we’re not done with Talek,” Nessa promised, an eager grin winning through her exhaustion. “Help us, and we’ll kill him. You’ll be free from him forever.”

  The guards looked to Tristan for confirmation, hope in their eyes. He relaxed and nodded, not bothering to wait to sheath his knife. Sora followed his lead.

  “We should hurry,” Sora said, her new task giving her purpose and distraction from her pain and the dead man at her feet. “Talek sent a mob here and we’re supposed to be down at the causeway helping keep them back. He’s gotten reckless, moving openly like this, but we can use the distraction.”

  She started off down the hall, beckoning for them to follow and moving at a pace that Tristan and Nessa struggled to keep up with. She and Fya spoke to one another, discussing both the story they would tell the Fallen Guard and Talek’s sudden change in tactics. They both agreed Saeli would have to move against Talek after the mess he’d left and the men demanding entrance to the Fallen vessel, a thought that worried Tristan.

  Annik was still in the Son of Saeli’s clutches and desperate men were unpredictable. If the city moved against him, Talek might try to use her as a bargaining chip or blame everything on the strange foreigners. At the very least, Talek wouldn’t underestimate Tristan like Perran had, especially now that Nessa was free and Talek’s best Ground was just one corpse among dozens left in the wake of Nessa’s rescue.

  No, Talek would be prepared with all of his considerable resources. The fact that he risked moving openly now only underscored how desperate he was.

  There were also the dead guard’s words about Talek’s promises and heading west, possibilities that Tristan didn’t have the energy to dwell on right now but terrified him more than trying to fight his way back into Talek’s compound. At least here in Saeli he knew where to go. There was an entire world to the west that he hadn’t the first clue how to navigate.

  His anxiety about the possibility that Annik might be carried beyond his reach was met with steady calm, first from Nessa but then echoed by Lydia and Serana. He stumbled at their unexpected outreach, surprised when Nessa helped him keep his feet despite her small stature. Her violet eyes stared up determinedly.

  “We’re going to save her.” Nessa spoke with confidence despite everything, and Tristan clung to her, wrapping her in his arms.

  “Later, you two,” Sora snapped impatiently, though she smiled when Fya whispered in her ear. “You’ll need your energy for the climb.”

  She pushed open a small hatch. It swung outwards into the night air. When Tristan stepped forward, he gasped at the view of the night sky and Albeder Sea stretching out before him. They were halfway up the back of the Fallen’s Ship, and thin rungs to his right disappeared above and below him.

  “That,” Tristan said with a swallow, “is a long climb.”

  “There’s a platform towards the bottom, maybe a level or two up from the water, with a small boat. Stay wide of the causeway. Probably best to row to the edge of the harbor,” Sora warned. “Whatever you did in there brought the whole city out.”

  It was a tortuous climb down and not one Tristan ever hoped to repeat despite the beautiful view of the sea and Nessa’s legs. The rowing wasn’t much easier and required frequent breaks and the help of the tide coming in to make headway.

  As he and Nessa made landfall on the outskirts of the city, they saw Sora hadn’t been lying. Balconies and windows were lined with seemingly the entire population, all eyes turned to the Fallen monument offshore. Luckily, no one paid any heed to the small boat or it’s two tired passengers slouching through the streets without glancing at the flashing beacons newly lit along the city’s Fallen monument.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  “There will be more dumplings in just a few minutes,” Serana insisted, hands on her hips as Nessa and Tristan fenced over the last doughy treat filled with meat, cabbage, spices and broth. Tristan smirked as he sent Nessa’s spoon flying, only to watch in horror as Nessa scooped up the dumpling with her hand and popped it into her mouth. “Nessa! Manners!”

  Nessa’s cheeks bulged as she muttered an apology, but that wouldn’t put the morsel onto Tristan’s plate where it deserved to be. Instead he settled for eggs that while delicious, were similar to fare he’d eat back in Aeol. He much preferred the foreign delicacies Serana prepared.

  “Cheater,” Tristan groused as Nessa chewed obnoxiously and Serana looked on in horror
.

  “If you two don’t stop playing I’m not going to cook anymore,” Serana huffed, turning and stalking back towards the bubbling pots, her threat as toothless as a chicken.

  Tristan and Nessa had been greeted by a feast when they arrived last night that Serana insisted they finish before going to bed. She spent the whole night cooking, and Tristan suspected it was as much to cope with Lydia again disappearing into the night as it did providing for him and Nessa.

  “She’s okay,” Tristan said softly. Serana stiffened at his words nearly dropping her spoon.

  Tristan and Nessa had kept up playful banter since waking in an attempt to keep Serana’s mood light. It felt a bit like heaping on jam to hide the acrid taste of burnt toast—the sweet could never quite make up for the bitter. Tristan’s heart wasn’t in it and he often caught Nessa gazing forlornly at Serana’s back.

  In truth, Tristan was as worried as Serana. The confrontation at the causeway between Talek’s forces and the Fallen Guard had risen to armed conflict in the hours before dawn, only calming with the rising sun. He’d gone to bed to shouts and the sounds of small forces running through the streets, and Lydia had headed into it willingly to try and get a sense of what was going on. Following up on the overheard conversation about Talek potentially fleeing Saeli couldn’t wait for the city to calm.

  Annik was still imprisoned.

  Lydia’s gesture wasn’t lost on Tristan, and he tried not to think about worst case scenarios and the guilt he would feel if Lydia were hurt or killed trying to help him. It may have been Lydia’s idea to venture into the night, but that didn’t stop Tristan from feeling responsible.

  “I know, but I still worry,” Serana replied without turning around. “I just feel so helpless when she’s out there. I feel like I should do more to help. I don’t know how to fight, but maybe I could be a spy. There’s always gossip in the kitchen and I could find work somewhere and report back. I’m sure I could go to Talek’s kitchen and lie my way back into service.”

  Tristan was surprised at her offer, but more surprised when Nessa moved from her seat to stand next to Serana.

  “I know you feel like you should do more,” Nessa said quietly, “but putting yourself in danger isn’t going to make it easier for the rest of us—especially not Lydia. She just got you back and she’d never forgive Tristan if we let you go again. Besides,” Nessa said as she tickled Serana’s side and grinned at Tristan, “we need you here feeding that bottomless pit at the table. Honestly, I think we will need two or three of you if he keeps getting injured.”

  Tristan scowled as he picked his plate up and shoveled eggs into his mouth, but inside he swelled with pride at Nessa’s comforting manner. Even last night she’d taken to Serana immediately, probably helped along by an entire cake that Nessa swore was the best thing she’d ever eaten.

  Tristan had fretted as they drew nearer Serana and Lydia that the two spheres of his love life would mix like oil and water. His worry was based on Aeolian norms, but the Saelian women accepted one another with grace and friendly banter. He wondered how much of this was cultural versus their unexpected ability to feel one another through him. Tristan tried to follow their lead, but when Nessa sleepily suggested Serana coax Tristan to bed with more than just her cooking, he realized just how far from Aeol he was—not that he minded Serana following Nessa’s advice. The openness to sharing him was just something he couldn’t wrap his mind around yet.

  Serana sighed and leaned against the counter. “Sometimes I wish I was good at other things than just cooking. Don’t get me wrong, I love cooking when I get to do it for those I care about, but mostly it’s meant being chained to some kitchen. If I were stronger, Osred wouldn’t have been able to take me like that and put Lydia at risk.”

  “You wouldn’t have met Tristan then,” Nessa said with a smile, drawing a faint blush from the curvy chef. Serana’s eyes darted to Tristan, then looked away when she found him watching her. “Plus, I really think you underestimate just how amazing a cook you are. Just wait until we rescue Annik, she’ll tell you how hopeless Tristan is.”

  “That’s not fair,” Tristan complained around a mouthful of cornbread and sausage.

  “Tristan, I love you, but you managed to burn trail biscuits! I’m pretty bad at cooking, but all you have to do is stick those in hot water. Somehow even that was too complicated for you,” Nessa’s eyes sparkled as she teased him, but Serana looked at him with horror.

  “I was distracted!” Tristan insisted. “If you’re going to tell that story, you can’t leave out the part about what you were doing!”

  “I was just washing my clothes. It’s not my fault you have the self-control of a teenager. Anyways, you could have taken the pot off the fire before you fucked me. Might have gotten cold, but at least it would have been edible.”

  Serana had a hand over her mouth, shaking her head in disbelief at Tristan’s botched cooking attempt.

  “I can cook other things.” Tristan felt the need to defend himself. For so long he’d been a helpless drunk without any reason to provide for himself, and this assault on his capability needled his shame. “The veal was good, right?”

  “Yes, but then you nearly burned down the campsite when you tossed water on the grease fire! Serana, you should have seen how mad Annik got.” Nessa dropped her voice and puffed her chest out to try and make herself big. “‘Tristan, you idiot! If you burn down the tent, then you’re going to spend the night keeping the bugs off me and Nessa!’” Nessa devolved into a fit of giggles as her attempt to imitate Annik broke down.

  “Annik sounds like just what he needs,” Serana said with a smile.

  “You have no idea! She’s so good for him. She’s the whole reason he isn’t drunk in a gutter somewhere. It was pretty awesome watching her whip him into shape on the hike over the mountains. The first time they fought each other, Annik practically put him over her knee and spanked him, but by the time we got to Saeli it was all she could do to keep him off her. Seriously, watching those two go at one another is intense, and way more fun now that Tristan isn’t a fat drunk.”

  “That sounds violent.” Serana bit her lip and ran her eyes appreciatively over Tristan.

  “I guess,” Nessa paused to consider Serana’s view. “Oh! I didn’t even tell you the best part! Annik is going to let him fuck her whenever he beats her. It’s some game they would play back when training and I’m going to get to watch! That will be a real show.”

  Serana stood open mouthed, Nessa’s openness more than even she was used to.

  Tristan studied his food, his face as red as the tomatoes in his caprese salad. Annik had hinted at the stakes of their sparring, but she and Nessa had spent plenty of time chatting outside his hearing, becoming friends independent of each’s relationship with Tristan. He shifted, his pants uncomfortably tight, as he imagined what else they had discussed.

  “That sounds like just one more reason to find her,” Serana finally said, bringing everyone back to what really mattered.

  Serana and Nessa sobered, Nessa returning to her spot with determination pulsing along the bond. Serana’s hands flew as she stuffed and twisted dumplings before dropping them into simmering broth while somehow simultaneously pulling the done ones out and placing them in a bowl.

  Annik was out there, and Talek had mobilized his considerable contacts to protect his final prize. His determination to hold onto one foreign woman baffled Tristan, but motivations could be figured out after Annik was safe. More pressing was figuring out a plan. Tristan and his three Bound were Annik’s only hope, and the four of them together likely didn’t outweigh Talek alone.

  Fortunately, it wasn’t a wrestling match. Talek had his strange speed and enough men to challenge the Fallen Guard, but Tristan and Nessa had already proved numbers alone weren’t enough to stop them, and Lydia was a hidden blade that could tip the balance through spying or knifework. Talek had also injured his foot during the fight with Tristan, which should slow him down enough
for Tristan to carve apart.

  As long as Annik remained in Saeli, Tristan liked their odds.

  Everything would come down to timing, a balance between his need to recuperate and the race against Talek’s plans. All he could do now was take advantage of Serana’s bounty to fuel his recovery and wait for Lydia to return.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  “They’re leaving with the tide,” Lydia gasped as she nearly tumbled down the stairs while trying to pull on a shirt. She wore a stolen pair of men’s pants that she’d hacked apart to make the legs short enough for her but had returned topless through the upstairs window in a rush despite the bright sun. Serana had been frantic ever since the bond twisted with anxiety and Lydia burst into action for a mad dash across town.

  Now Lydia stood, her small chest heaving and sweat plastering her dark hair to her face and neck. The shirt stuck to her skin, and with a frustrated yelp she tore it off and threw it to the side.

  “Talek just left with Annik and dozens of men including a Ground and a group of Sparks. They’re headed for the docks and his ship, the Horizon, and they plan to leave on the evening tide. That’s only a few hours from now,” Lydia added, just to drive home their tight timeline.

  Tristan was already up, moving towards his weapons. The guards on the Fallen Vessel had been right about Talek leaving, but he was moving much quicker than expected. It hadn’t even been a full day since Tristan had rescued Nessa, but Talek evidently felt the time was right to make his escape. Tristan couldn’t let Annik slip further away.

  “He has a whole army guarding the docks, and I bet every gang and thug has been recruited. They’re still loading supplies,” Lydia continued, “but as soon as Talek and Annik are on board they plan to move the ship from the dock and finish the rest by ferrying. He’s scared of you two.”

  “We should hurry,” Tristan muttered, abandoning the rest of his armament and rushing to the door. He paused and looked back at his three Bound.