Purveyors and Acquirers (The Phosfire Journeys Book 1)

by Unknown

  ***

  Izlan studied the Wave Dancer with an eye toward the surest way to assault the ship. During her mercenary career, she had never been called upon to board and take over a vessel, but still, to her, the crew of the Dancer appeared too attentive. Their demeanor was one men acquired prior to going into battle, not that of curious men whose work had been interrupted. As the two columns approached the gangplank, she turned her head to Martell, who was directly behind her, and quietly said one word. “Ambush.” She heard Martell pass the message to the rest of her Raiders.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  TULIP WAS FRUSTRATED. Just before they were all about to leave the workroom at the back of The Silver Bell and head to the wharf, the Mouse announced he had to make a stop and the “business” he needed to conduct wouldn’t be quick. The problem was where to go; the closest privy was back in the warehouse. To make matters worse, everyone else decided they, too, needed to relieve themselves, but there was only one privy. So back to the warehouse they went.

  Tulip was determined to show them the error of their ways. “I don’t believe you all. Why didn’t you take care of yourselves before we left the Temple?”

  No heroine had ever had to suffer through such an inconvenience. Then, to her horror, her own bladder betrayed her. She suddenly had to pee… badly! She endured the others’ smug looks she received on her return and stuck her tongue out at them. “Can we go now?”

  Zeal seized the moment. “We’ve all been ready and were just waiting for you.”

  If Fronc and Nester hadn’t held Tulip back, he might have become one squished rodent.

  She inwardly laughed at her displeasure before jerking free from them. “Come. It’s time we headed out.”

  She left for the workroom not caring if the others followed. Her excitement had returned by the time they finally stepped into the alley. Zeal, exiting last, reset the trap then closed and locked the door.

  Tulip pointed to the building across the alley then used her rope and grapple to gain access to the roof. With the water tower as a beacon, she led them toward the wharf. When they’d traveled about a half a mark, they had to stop and determine the best way to navigate an intersection without having to climb down to the street below. She had just estimated they had five roadways to cross to reach the tower when a piercing scream was heard from the alley off to their left. Someone young, female, and terrified.

  Tulip saw the disquieted yet curious reactions on the others’ faces and said softly, “Follow.”

  She traveled quickly and quietly as she led the others with care through the darkness, leaping to the next building and crossing the roof. Now was not the time for someone to injure themselves. She heard voices, slowed, dropped prone, crept to the edge, and peered over. Mehrle joined her. The rest of the party held back.

  Just then, the moon peeked out; its light broke through the clouds and improved her view. In the lane below, Tulip observed a bearded man dressed in dark garb. He knelt beside a whimpering girl of nine or ten seasons. Her hands and feet were tied. Her light-colored hair and clothing were covered in the filth of the alley. Her bare legs glistened in the light as she kicked in an attempt to struggle free. The girl had been injured and was bleeding. The man cuffed his captive upside the head, leaned over, and said something Tulip couldn’t hear. The girl stilled. A gag was placed in her mouth and a hood pulled over her head. He then took out a large dirty sack. Starting with the girl’s legs, he stuffed her inside.

  Tulip and Mehrle backed away and joined the others. Out of view of the man in the alley, Tulip whispered, “It’s an abduction, maybe just like Liddea’s.”

  Zeal asked in a hushed tone, “What do we do?”

  Tulip glanced back to the alley. “Stop him and save her. We’ll not let anyone else be taken when we can do something to prevent it.”

  Fronc spoke up. “What’s the plan?”

  Tulip leaned forward. “Mehrle and I stay up top with the crossbows. Nester, climb down and follow the man. Fronc, get ahead and drop in front of him. Your voice is deepest, so you do the talking. Tell him to let the girl go. Zeal, move over to the other side of the alley and position yourself where you think you can best help.”

  Zeal gestured toward the alley. “Maybe we could capture the guy.”

  Mehrle firmly interjected. “I think rescuing the girl will be more than enough of a challenge. We let the man leave if he surrenders the girl.”

  Tulip nodded agreement then stole back to the edge. The man was already heading down the alley with the sack over his shoulder. He whistled as he sauntered off but took care to avoid the main road. She waved everyone forward to allow them a good look at their prey. “Let’s do this.”

  ***

  Zeal accessed the roof by climbing the rain chain. He spotted Nester using the alley’s cover to shadow the mark. His three other companions had disappeared from view beneath the opposite side of their building’s ridgeline. He followed suit and hurried to get in front of the abductor. When he thought he was far enough ahead, he moved to the alley side of the roof, dropped down, and crept forward. The target was four buildings away and headed toward him. Out of the corner of his eye, he noted Fronc crouching behind a stack of crates, hidden from the abductor’s view. Zeal studied the roofs across from him. It took him a moment to locate Mehrle and Tulip, situated further up the alley, past his position. They were ducked out of sight behind the building’s large chimney, readying their crossbows. Nester was nowhere to be seen.

  The kidnapper was approximately twenty paces from Fronc’s position when Fronc stepped out and assumed a heroic stance, hands on hips, spine straight, and feet apart. Zeal wanted to stand and cheer, but, except for breaking out in a grin, he resisted. The man stopped and turned in a slow circle before once again facing Fronc with a puzzled look on his face.

  “Get out of my way, boy.”

  Fronc spread his arms out, open palms toward the adversary. “I have been tasked to ask you to put the girl down and go on your way, if you wish to leave this alley alive tonight.”

  “Is that so?” The figure quickly took another look around. “Are you are the one who is going to make me, boy?” He moved his free hand to the hilt of the knife on his belt and took a step toward Fronc. He stopped moving when the dirt from the roadway suddenly swirled up into the air, momentarily blinding him.

  Zeal wondered what had caused that to happen.

  Fronc remained still. “I am just the messenger. It’s up to you to decide how this meeting will conclude.”

  The man blinked several times to clear his eyes. “It will end with you gutted in the road and your ma crying over your corpse. You’re alone here, aren’t you?” He stepped forward.

  Zeal saw one of the girls briefly stand before ducking back behind the chimney. He was not sure who fired the bolt, but time seemed to slow. He had never experienced such intensity of focus. Captivated by the flight of the missile, he could have counted the turnings, if he’d wished. When the bolt was above Fronc, the angle of its flight abruptly changed. The head clipped the toe of the man’s boot when it loudly slapped into the dirt. The man jumped back as the air once more swirled around him.

  Zeal’s vision reverted to normal. What is going on?

  The tone of Fronc’s voice darkened. “That was your last warning.”

  Fear and uncertainty crossed the mark’s face as he lowered the sack to the ground.

  “The girl is yours.” The abductor retreated ten paces from Fronc, his hands held in sight, before turning and hurrying away.

  Fronc yelled, “He is leaving and coming your way! Let him pass!” He then stepped up to the unmoving sack.

  Zeal kept an eye on the man, who’d begun to run and soon turned up a main road off the alley. He still saw no sign of Nester but knew Fronc had shouted to warn Nester, as well as confuse the mark.

  Fronc was joined by Mehrle, who bent down to retrieve the spent crossbow bolt as she approached. Zeal heard a noise to his right and turned to see T
ulip coming toward him.

  She leaned forward to him and whispered, “Mehrle wants us to stay hidden while she and Fronc free the captive. She doesn’t want the girl to see all of us and talk about us later.”

  “Why not just let Fronc do it? His is the only voice the girl has heard.”

  “Fronc is a male, silly. The presence of a female’s voice will reassure her that we mean her no harm.”

  “What of our other plans for the night? We could split up. Let Mehrle and Fronc take the girl to the Temple while the rest of us head to the wharf.”

  Tulip shook her head. “And if they run into trouble on the way? It’s best that we stay together. This girl has become our responsibility. Liddea has others to see to her.”

  Zeal nodded. “You’re right. You know, I haven’t seen Nester since we parted.”

  Tulip grinned. “Nester is the best sneak of all of us. Don’t worry, I expect him to join us soon. Be still a moment. I want to see what happens.”

  Zeal saw Fronc squat and use his Fang to slit open the sack exposing the trembling form inside. Mehrle placed her hand on Fronc’s arm and said softly, “Be gentle with her. She might be hurt.” She knelt and removed the hood from the girl’s head. “Don’t be scared. We’re here to help. You’re safe. I’ll remove your gag while my friend gets you untied. Are you injured?”

  The girl looked around fearfully but kept returning her gaze to Fronc and Mehrle.

  There was a touch of hysteria in her voice when she spoke. “Where did that man go? Is he coming back? What are you going to do to me? Let me go!”

  Mehrle brushed the hair from the girl’s face. “We are not going to hurt you. We saw your capture and intervened. We’re taking you to the Temple of the Ladies of Life. Once you are there, your parents can be notified to come for you.”

  The girl shied away from Mehrle’s touch. “Why not just take me home?”

  “Did you recognize the man who grabbed you?”

  “No.”

  “Do you have any idea why he targeted you?”

  “No.”

  “It may have been to ransom you back to your family. He might get friends and try to recapture you, given the chance. The journey to your residence might provide such an opportunity. At the Temple, at least you’ll be safe. Can you walk?”

  “I can try. My knees hurt. I scraped them trying to get away.”

  Mehrle and Fronc helped her to her feet.

  “Why are your faces covered?”

  “We are trying to keep our identities secret. We are not supposed to be out tonight. You can call me Lily, and this is Torin. What’s your name?”

  “I’m Inara. Thank you for helping me.”

  “It is nice to meet you, Inara. Why are you out traveling alone this late in the evening?”

  “I would rather not say. Believe me, it won’t happen again. I’ve learned my lesson.”

  “We have our secrets. There is no reason you shouldn’t have a few, as well.” Mehrle turned to Fronc. “Will you lead the way?”

  He nodded but let Inara set the pace.

  Zeal felt a tap on his shoulder. When he turned, Tulip was pointing off to the left, from where Nester approached.

  ***

  Kaid smiled to himself, pleased by the evening’s outcome. He watched the apprentices head in the direction of the Temple. A boot scraped the roof’s surface behind him. Knife at the ready, he turned to face the sound. He saw a lanky man dressed in dark clothing with hood in hand.

  “Put your blade away, Kaid. You don’t need it for me.”

  He returned the knife to its sheath. “Well done, Shalis.”

  “Don’t be thanking me. That there weren’t my doing.”

  Kaid was puzzled. “What do you mean not your doing? You were going to help me distract them.”

  “Aye, I was making arrangements when yon cherubs became occupied with that there gentleman.”

  “The kidnapping wasn’t staged?”

  “Nope.”

  “The children pulled off a real rescue?”

  “Yep.”

  “Well, I’ll be.”

  “I’ve got me a tail on the culprit. His kind won’t be long for this life. I plan to see to the interrogation meself. Can’t have Turk be the only one having a little fun. You go on now and keep track of the young ones. The Trade Master will be informed of all the details.” Shalis stepped into the night.

  Shalis was a good man to have on your side and a bad one if he wasn’t. Kaid smiled as he hurried to catch up to his charges.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  QWEN HOVERED HIGH enough above the vessels to view the activity on both the Wave Dancer and Chantil’s Delight. He enjoyed the freedom his elemental form gave him. His companions directed sound and voice to him, allowing him to clearly hear the conversation between Sloan and the captain.

  Captain Naider quickly read over the warrant before crumpling it in his closed fist. “Come aboard then.” Naider stepped back quickly, putting a bit of space between him and the document-deliverers, and drew his sword. Three men, weapons in hand, quickly joined him.

  Qwen saw the subtle sign Naider gave his crew. The men at the starboard railing picked up bows, nocked arrows, and fired on those standing at the dock and on the gangplank. Qwen, anticipating their attack, quickly cast the conjure he’d held ready, speaking the verbal element, “Pare Arae.”

  A semi-transparent wall of swirling air bloomed between Izlan’s Raiders and the Watch members targeted by the ship’s archers. The arrows became trapped in the barrier, unable to pass through. A second volley of arrows stuck into the wall like pins in a cushion. The sailors dropped their bows, retrieved their handheld weapons, and then ran to engage the force charging onto the Dancer.

  Martell yelled, “Move forward now!”

  Qwen dropped the airy barrier to enable them to board. Death was about to receive a payment. He hoped the rescuer’s lives were not the coin used to make the deposit.

  The hatch to the crew’s quarters opened, spilling men who were determined to defend the Dancer. Izlan pointed toward them, shouting to her Raiders, “Cover that door! Let the Watch engage the archers!”

  Sailors on the port side crossed to join the defenders starboard. In silent a dance, Slag, Turk, and the Set leaped from the Delight’s rigging to the Dancer’s, moving spar to spar. They threw the grapples on the end of their ropes ahead, where they looped and wrapped around the thick poles, their tines locked firmly into place by each individual’s body weight as he followed his falling coil of rope and slid down to the deck to land behind an unsuspecting sailor. A pommel strike to the back of the skull rendered each opponent unconscious, allowing Slag, Turk, and the Set to continue on and attack the targets with their backs to them.

  A Zephyr swirled through Qwen, directing him to the lookout in the crow’s nest. There, a sailor held a bow and his target was Sloan. Qwen had forgotten about this threat and didn’t have another wind wall prepared. He was about to ask his companion to interfere with the missile’s flight when, suddenly, a silver-fletched arrow erupted from the base of the man’s skull, and a bloody broadhead protruded past his chin. The sailor shook as the muscles in his arms and legs began to spasm, and then he collapsed, falling forward over the rail to the deck below. His arrow flew harmlessly into the bay. Qwen turned and spotted Charion in the Delight’s crow’s nest, calmly selecting her next target on the Dancer’s deck.

  He refocused his attention to the activity underneath him. At the ship’s stern, the odiferous sailor, opened the hatch to the short corridor that led to the girls’ cell.

  Simultaneously, the sailor who’d joined Naider at the top of the gangplank was attacking Sloan with a sword. Sloan pivoted his left foot back and then caught the downward sweep of the sword with the handle of his ax. He shifted his weight and kicked the sailor in the knee with his right foot, making a crunching sound as the sailor’s knee buckled inward, immediately followed by the man’s cry of pain. Sloan allowed the man’s blade to
slide off to the side. He grasped the axe with both hands and punched the advisory in the face with the spike on top of his weapon. The man collapsed to the deck. Sloan turned to face the captain who stood with his sword drawn.

  To Sloan’s right, Izlan lunged, allowing her charging advisory to impale himself. Her blade pierced him in the chest. Using a quick twist of the wrist, she opened the wound further and prevented her weapon from becoming trapped. Blood began to bubble out of his mouth as she shifted the blade free and allowed the man’s momentum to carry his dead body past her.

  She recovered from her lunge and gestured for the sailors nearest her to come forward. “One at a time or all together, it matters not,” she taunted.

  Two attackers came forward together. Izlan stepped between them, decreasing the space they had to maneuver against her. As the sword on her right slashed toward her, she guided the blade into the path of the man on her left, disrupting his attack, and then she punched the distracted fellow in the face with her fist. She pivoted, sliced the initial attacker’s sword arm off at the elbow, and finished her motion by sweeping her blade back across her body. The intestines of her second opponent spilled to the deck.

  “Come now, I haven’t warmed up yet. Who is next?” She gracefully repositioned herself where she could continue to fight alongside Sloan.

  The Raiders had plugged the forward deck access, cutting down any crewman who was brave or foolish enough to step out. The Watch seemed evenly matched against their opponents. One of the Watch went down.

  Qwen was momentarily distracted when Tempest joined with him and directed his attention toward Slag and the Set. One of the crew, initially put down when they had dropped onto the deck, was sneaking up behind Slag. The man brought his sword back as he drew close, an ophidian coiling to strike.

  Qwen was unable to use speech in his current form so could not yell a warning. “Tempest, help the Trade Master.”