by Shae Ford
“Is that why you’re in so much trouble with the crown?”
“Part of it,” she said with a nod. She sat on her haunches and propped an elbow on her knee. “Listen — freeing the shapechangers will be a tricky patch of work. Marching on the Unforgivable Mountains is one thing, but Midlan is quite another. We’ll have to pace ourselves, all right?”
He nodded, reluctantly. In the back of his mind, he wondered how many years it would take to avenge Tinnark and free the shapechangers. At the pace things were moving now, he thought he might be Amos’s age before he ever had a chance to live happily.
Kyleigh clapped him on the shoulders, grinning at the heaviness behind his eyes. “Don’t worry — it’s perfectly normal to pick up a few tasks along the way. A quest is rarely as simple as doing the thing you set out to do.”
*******
He helped her bury the remaining shapechangers — the halfwolves, as Kyleigh called them — and then they left the Pass.
Thick gray clouds curtained the sky above them and the breeze was a little cooler. The gentle curves of the Valley were far behind: ahead were sharp rocks and thin tufts of brown grass. The pines glared down like underpaid guards as he followed Kyleigh along the path that wound between them.
He never thought he’d miss the noise of the caravan: Chaney and Claude’s shouting, Aerilyn’s endless chatter and the unpalatable notes of Jonathan’s poor fiddle. Yet the longer they walked, the more he found he missed it.
He knew he shouldn’t. It was their fault that Garron was dead, and he didn’t expect to ever see the caravan again.
They ducked out from under the cover of the trees and stepped into a wide clearing. A shallow stream trickled through it, and all along its bank he recognized the familiar green tunics of the forest men as they scrubbed their wounds in the water.
He saw Aerilyn standing out in the middle of the road, away from the others. Her eyes were red and her arms defiantly crossed. The second she saw them, she started to run. Someone must have told her the truth. He could tell by her glare that they were in trouble, and he braced himself.
She went for Kyleigh first. “I know,” she said, lifting her chin to keep the tears from spilling out. “Horatio’s told me that you’re dangerous. But I don’t care. The King set those monsters on all of us — he didn’t care who perished. But the fact of the matter is that you’re my friend, and friends don’t let things like bounties get between them.” She hugged Kyleigh tightly, quickly, then stepped over to Kael.
She fell directly into the middle of his chest, and he didn’t know what to do. So he sort of put his arms around her and tried not to rumple her dress. “I’m sorry,” he began, but she clamped a hand over his mouth.
“Don’t be. I’ve already had my cry, and I know Papa wouldn’t want me to cry anymore.” She smiled weakly. “You know what he’d say, if he were here? Time is precious, my darling — so don’t you drown it in tears.”
Then she took them both by the hand and led them back to the caravan, where their friends were waiting for them.
Chapter 18
Pirates?
They didn’t have to endure the cramped forest path for long: a few hours later, the woods disappeared and an open field yawned out to meet them. The sun was beginning its descent, trailing golden light through a break in the clouds as it fell. Wind made the long strands of grass dance as the caravan moved through them.
Beyond the field, the world suddenly dropped away. Kael broke from the rest of the group and sprinted to the very edge of a cliff, drawn in helplessly by the far-off crash of waves. He stood with his toes hanging over the edge and gaped at the wonder before him.
The ocean.
Not since the sky had he seen anything so unending. Water stretched eternally, waves sparkled in the sunlight as they chased the clouds above them. Gulls rode the cool gusts of wind, squawking to one another, and he found that he envied them. From where they flew, he thought the view must be spectacular.
He could’ve stood there all day, just gaping at the way the water kissed the sky. But the caravan was moving on. They were all ragged from the lack of sleep and the village at the base of the cliffs tempted them with its promise of a hot meal.
The only way down was along a road that appeared to have been cut right out of the cliff side. The path was steep, folding over itself at the angle of a pinch. It created a punishing, zigzag slope that had the horses neighing with fright and digging in their hooves. At the bottom, a woefully chipped wooden sign greeted them: Harborville, it read.
The blue letters were faded and peeling. One of the chains had rusted through. Now the sign hung on only by its remaining chain and the wind beat it mercilessly against its post.
Along the rocks, planks of warped, rotted wood were stacked in mounds the height of a man. They smelled heavily of must and what he could only describe as old ocean: like the water had dried up and all that remained of it was the stench of fish.
After they passed the first few mounds, he began to get the feeling they were not alone: someone watched them from the shadows. He lit a torch and stepped closer, staying on the balls of his feet in case whatever it was decided to attack. The light burned the shadows away and revealed their stalker. The blurred edges of darkness became spindly arms and legs, the round smudge on top turned out to be the startled face of a boy.
He was young, younger than Claude, even. Yet he looked like an old man: his blue eyes had bags under them and his clothes were tattered and filthy. Several of his shirt buttons were missing and his stomach poked out between them, swollen and unhappy.
When the boy saw Kael watching him, he ducked behind the nearest rotting pile. Kael moved his torch to follow and the light illuminated it. He took a startled step back when he saw the many corpses curled up beneath it. Their skin was wrinkled and hanging off their bones, their eyes rimmed red and shut against the light. He was about to turn away when one of them raised its skeletal head and squinted up at him.
Sweet mercy, these people were alive.
Someone — Jonathan, by the smell of it — grabbed him by the shoulder and led him away. He held his torch up as they passed and found more miserable, shrunken people curled up under the mounds of trash. The lucky ones crouched around small fires, their gaunt faces locked on the bubbling pots between them. Others sat with their knees tucked to their chins and watched with sunken eyes as the caravan rolled by.
This wasn’t what the High Seas was supposed to look like. All of the pictures in the Atlas showed quaint, prosperous fishing villages and an ocean packed full of brightly-colored vessels. There were supposed to be miles of white sand and children who walked the length of it, their arms laden with shells. There should have been sun, not clouds. There should have been a village — not Harborville.
If Jonathan hadn’t shoved him along, he doubted if he could have moved his legs at all. He knew Duke Reginald kept his people poor, but he had no idea that he starved them. Horatio’s chickens were better fed — and they were destined for the pot.
“Keep moving, mate,” Jonathan said quietly, when he stopped again.
But Kael didn’t want to keep moving: he wanted to find Duke Reginald and club him over the head. “We have to do something,” he growled.
“We can’t, it’s against the law.” Jonathan turned him towards a freshly painted sign sticking out of the rocks ahead of them. He could read the letters clearly, even from a distance.
This colonie of thieves has been found guiltie of stealing from the Crown and is under the just punishment levied upon them by His Excellencie, Duke Reginald. Anyone caught aiding these thieves is also a thief, and will be punished accordinglie.
Beyond that sign, a few large fires burned near the water. Guards stood around them, talking and taking long gulps from their tankards. On the front of their tunics was the symbol of the High Seas: a coiling serpent being pierced in the tail by a harpoon.
He could smell fish roasting over the guards’ fires, so he knew the pe
ople huddling under the lean-tos could smell it as well. He wondered why they hadn’t tried to catch their own food. Then he read the signs at the water’s edge and suddenly understood:
The Seas are the propertie of His Excellencie, Duke Reginald. Anyone caught fishing without the Duke’s permission will be guiltie of stealing from the Crown and punished accordinglie.
The people of Harborville were not beggars, but honest men who weren’t being allowed to work. Just the thought of it put such a horrible taste in Kael’s mouth that he had to spit to keep from throwing up. Why wasn’t anyone doing anything?
Aerilyn walked with her head down, shedding silent tears that he was sure had nothing to do with the horror before them. Horatio looked angry, but kept his balled fists safely inside his pockets. He couldn’t tell what Kyleigh was thinking: she had her hood drawn up again, shadowing her face. Jonathan picked nervously at his fiddle and kept his eyes on the guards.
Maybe none of them knew what it was like to be hungry, but Kael did.
In his eighth winter, the storehouses were so low that all of Tinnark had to survive on nettle and pine bark stew. He remembered tromping to the Hall with Amos, fighting through enormous drifts of snow for his one meal of the day. By the time they arrived, they were exhausted. And by the time they left, he was hungry again. All winter long, he’d held his stomach and cried because it hurt.
He’d worked so hard to become good at trapping so Tinnark would never have to starve again. He didn’t know the people of Harborville, he didn’t know if they were really thieves or not. But law or no law, he wasn’t going to stand for it a moment longer. No man deserved to starve.
The boy he found in the shadows watched from a distance, jogging along the rocks in some places to keep up. His tiny limbs swung out beside him and his legs shook when he landed. Kael could feel those blue eyes on him, begging him, boring into his soul.
A few of the guards watched them pass, but as soon as their dinner was ready, they looked away. While they tore white flesh from the bone and licked the grease off their fingers, it gave Kael the second he needed. He slung off his rucksack and dug into it, grabbing his last orange.
Jonathan saw what he was doing and blanched. “You can’t, mate. I’m serious. If the guards see you —”
“Well here’s what I think about the guards.” He gave Jonathan the gesture he learned from Kyleigh. “And here’s one for the Duke.”
His mouth fell open in shock. Then he laughed. “All right, I can’t argue with that.” He reached into his pack and pulled out a loaf of bread. He watched the guards until they slipped under the cover of a lean-to. “Now,” he said, and they tossed their food to the children.
The boy caught Kael’s orange and a girl next to him caught Jonathan’s bread. They looked at each other, mouths hanging open liked they wanted to scream in delight. But instead they tucked the food under their shirts and, with grateful nods, disappeared into the shadows.
They made a game of it. The children would crowd around, using their bodies to shield each other from the guards while Kael and Jonathan tossed them rations. Kyleigh was next to join their game, then Aerilyn. Soon the whole caravan was passing out food. Horatio emptied every barrel and basket he had. Chaney cut dried meat into chunks and dropped them down to Claude, who tossed them into the crowd.
The children tucked their spoils under their shirts and ran back to their families, glee showing clearly on their faces. The bright red of apples and orange of carrots and green of cabbage — all the color stood out brilliantly in the gray world around them.
When they crossed some invisible line in the street, the children stopped following them. They waved excitedly and Kael waved back, smiling as broadly as he could until the caravan disappeared around the corner.
The deeper they went into Harborville, the more the houses improved. Rotten lean-tos became rotten houses, and then decent houses. It wasn’t long before they came to the nicest part of town — and the part that was truly revolting.
In the center of Harborville, men and women in gold-stitched clothes ambled through the streets. They browsed at the windows of neat little shops and occasionally opened the overflowing purses at their overflowing bellies to buy something. The men who ran the shops all bore the symbol of the High Seas on their tunics. They sold goods at Duke Reginald’s prices: no bargaining, and no exceptions. If a man couldn’t afford the price of bread, then he had to do without.
A short walk away, children were starving to death, yet these people in their fine clothes were too worried about their latest wolf skin cape or glass bauble to bother themselves with it. One man strolled by, swinging a gold-capped cane, and Kael tripped him.
“Good heavens, are you all right?” another man said as he helped him off the ground.
“Yes, quite all right,” he grumbled. He glanced about him, brushing the dirt off his shoulders. But Kael had already taken refuge behind Horatio. “Must’ve tripped myself on a bit of cobblestone …”
The caravan stopped at a sprawling inn called The Jolly Duke. Just beneath its title was the painted image of Duke Reginald. He flashed his white teeth and seemed to be enjoying his view of the village.
Kael tried to spit on him, but the sign hung too high for his range.
Several long tables filled the common area of The Jolly Duke. They sat down and Horatio went to order their meals. When the innkeeper named his price, he snorted in disbelief — but paid it anyways. Several guards lurked in the back corner of the room, testing their blades maliciously against their callused thumbs. And Horatio seemed to think that arguing over a price wasn’t worth the maiming.
Dinner turned out to be a bowl of watery, lukewarm stew. Flaky bits of fish and pieces of shell floated aimlessly through it. Kael poked it a bit, but he was still too angry to eat. Across from him, Aerilyn stared through grief-reddened eyes. She’d scoop up some broth, then tilt her spoon and watch it trickle back into the bowl.
“Listen up, gentlemen,” Horatio said, though not a soul was talking. “I’ve been able to secure us passage on a boat to the Grandforest. We leave at first light.”
The men murmured that they understood, then went back to their solemn meals.
Kyleigh had disappeared almost the second they walked through the door. But shortly after the announcement, she returned. “I’ve got us a boat,” she said as she sat her bowl next to Aerilyn’s. “We leave at midnight.”
Kael’s heart sank. He knew this moment would come eventually — he just wasn’t ready for it.
Aerilyn’s spoon clattered onto the table. “But — but you can’t leave. What will I do without the two of you? No, you must stay and winter with us in the Grandforest.” She wiped her eyes and sat up a little straighter. “Please. Surely your journey can wait until spring.”
Kyleigh shook her head. “I assure you, it can’t. We’ve got a long ways to go and the longer we stay with the caravan, the more trouble we’ll cause.”
“I don’t care about the trouble!” she said desperately. “Please stay with us for one more season.”
“No,” Kyleigh said firmly, perhaps a little too firmly.
Aerilyn’s eyes got perilously wet. “So that’s it, then? Now that we’ve taken you across the Valley you’re just — just done with us? You’re going to fling us aside like so — much — filth? How — dare you!” She took a great, shuddering breath, then fled the room as she burst into tears.
No sooner was she gone than Jonathan crammed himself into her spot, sitting as close to Kyleigh as humanly possible. “I’ve heard the tittering of adventure coming from over here,” he said in her ear.
She elbowed him away. “Don’t make me kill you with my spoon.”
“All right, I won’t.” He leaned away from her and for once, his face went serious. “I want to come with you.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Why?”
“Because where we’re going is dangerous, and I’ve already got one life I’m responsible for. I don�
�t need another.”
He glared at her. “If you don’t take me with you, I’ll go anyways. There’s nothing left for me back home. I may not have a sword as a third arm, but I still like to think I’ve got a bit of value.”
“Oh? How so?” Kyleigh said, her annoyance muddled by her amusement.
He flashed his lopsided grin. “My charm and general good looks. Besides that, I’m no stranger to the filthier side of society — if you’re going to deal with rats, then you’ve got to know how they squeak.”
“And I suppose you’re an expert in squeaking?”
“All three dialects,” he said with a nod. Then he fell off the bench and onto one knee. “Take me with you, and I swear I won’t lay a hand to my fiddle for three hours.”
“Twelve.”
“Done.” He shook her hand, grinning to either ear, and Kael could hardly believe it.
“You should know that we’ll likely all end up dead — or rotting in a dungeon somewhere, at the very least,” she said.
“I’m all for that. Maybe I’ll even get a few scars out of the deal. Ladies really go for blokes with battle wounds. Now,” he rubbed his hands together, “where’re we off to first?”
She smirked. “South. We leave tonight.”
“Oh, a bit of mystery? I like that. Well, better get the old carpet bag dusted off.” And with that, he rushed away.
“Are you sure that was a good idea?” Kael said the second he was gone.
She shrugged. “Only time will tell. Though I’ve found that having a rogue on your side can often be useful. He’s friendly, at least — which is something you and I aren’t very good at.”
Well, he supposed she was right about that. He’d just mustered up the courage to take a bite of his stew when Aerilyn returned.
She stomped up to the table with her chin firmly in the air. Her nose was red, but her eyes had a dangerous glint in them. “I’ve made a decision,” she declared. “There’s no point in returning home right away — I’ll not spend the winter alone with my tears. So, since you refuse to come with me, I’m coming with you. When do we leave?”