by Jay Swanson
He closed his eyes and thought of all the things in life he wished he could change. All of the decisions made, the battles fought, the lives lost. He had wanted recompense, vindication, perhaps even to be reconciled with those he had failed. The fisherman didn't think he would be so lucky to have any of that now.
The gun never fired, instead he heard the latch on the door lift as his cage was opened. He didn't bother turning. Bullets were bullets, he'd been shot before. He figured that dying would take the edge off the pain this time.
“Aren't you coming?” a smooth, deep voice said from behind the fisherman.
He turned to see the Shadow King standing in the door, the Chief unconscious on the ground.
“There's a fire alarm going off and all you do is sit there like a lump.”
“My, aren't you a sneaky bastard.” He stood and walked towards the door. The Shade stepped gracefully aside to let him pass.
“I thought I might find you in here; getting in trouble all over town I hear.”
The Chief lay unconscious on the ground just outside the cell, the sight giving the fisherman reason to smile. They made their way out into the lobby. It was mostly empty as people had fled the building to await the fire department.
“To your right,” the Shade pointed. “The back alley.”
They strode behind the front desk of the station and through a side door that led them into a narrow alleyway. There was no one to be seen, save three police officers unconscious on the ground.
“They didn't believe I was on official business,” the Shade shrugged.
“Was that you that set off the alarm?”
“No, I simply took advantage of an opportunity.” The Shade took him down the long side of the alley, away from the commotion in the adjoining street.
“Not a moment too soon neither,” the fisherman fell in line behind him. “Coward was ‘bout to shoot me in the back.”
“Sounds like you made quite a splash today.” They rounded a corner and wound up a long set of stairs.
“Aye, but still leaves me surprised you're here.” The fisherman stopped and waited for the Shade to turn around. “What are you doing in this neck of the woods? I haven't seen you in decades, but I can tell. You're different somehow.”
“I'm looking for someone.”
“Aye, I wager the same girl the whole city's looking for. I'm not interested in that, I'm interested in what happened to you.”
“Cid.” The Shade ignored the inquiry. “Where did she go? I know you helped her escape, I need to find her.”
“She's plenty safe by now,” he said. “I set her on a ship to the south. Run by a good friend of mine.”
“The Droning Ingrid?” the Shade asked.
“Aye, how'd you know?”
“She didn't make it on board.”
The fisherman was surprised, and as much as he wanted to hide it, it played across his face.
“And how would you, as mystical as you may be, know that?”
“I've spent a lot of time building connections, Cid. I checked into it, she's not on board.”
“And why do you want to find her so badly?”
“To protect her.” The Shade seemed earnest enough.
“From what?”
“From what?” the Shade repeated sardonically. “Have you not been paying attention or are you just succumbing to your old age? The whole city is after her. Elandir put a price on her head! She landed you in jail, almost got you killed, and you're wondering what I'm trying to protect her from?”
“You know more than that.” The fisherman called Cid didn't budge on the point. “You obviously know what's driving all of this attention, and I want to know what it is before I help you any. You can't just walk me out of prison and expect that to stand as enough ground to trust you. Not when you've changed like you have. Something's very different about you, and you'll either tell me what it is or find your own way.”
The Shadow King's brow furrowed. With arms crossed he raised a hand to his chin as he thought on the proposition. He looked frustrated at the prospect of making a trade.
“You've crossed over,” the fisherman said as it dawned on him. Awe fused with suspicious wonder in his voice. “It actually happened, you're the last of your kind.”
The Shadow King didn't respond, he simply stared the big man down.
“God in heaven, it is possible. When the Magi told us they had made you to do it, to jump bodies like that, I never thought it could happen. That's what makes you different... you have emotions!”
“Quiet!” the Shadow King hissed, concerned that someone might hear but also irritated at the fisherman's perception.
“I see you're still working on controlling them,” replied the fisherman with a laugh. “Don't you worry, it takes most of us our entire lives to learn how to do that properly. You'll get the hang of it.”
The Shadow King didn't look thrilled at the prospect.
“Who was the unlucky bastard that killed you?”
“A man named Silvers.”
“God in Heaven!” Everything seemed to be coming together for the fisherman now. “Troy Silvers, the pride of Elandir? No wonder he moved up so quickly and fought so well. It's not fair to go about cheating like that then, is it? Why aren't you dressed as him now? Or is he as wanted as that girl.”
“I've lost the ability to conjure up his image,” the Shadow King admitted.
“I didn't know you would have the ability in the first place. When they made you they said the last of your kind would jump into his killer as a sort of safeguard... I didn't know it was true, though. I guess I never imagined the Shadow could be so utterly decimated as to make it necessary... so you're half human now, eh? How did you lose your ability to look like Silvers?”
“Charsi took it from me when she died.”
“You were there?”
The Shade instantly wished he could retract that last sentence, but it was too late.
“I tried to save her,” he lied. “I tried to protect her from the army, but they killed her. They almost did away with me in the process.”
“Why would she take away your power then? How'd she even manage it? I hear they had her in Atmospheric suspension in the Northern Range.”
“She almost killed me when she went, you know how they go. Killed a good portion of a battalion when she released.”
“Is that all?” the fisherman sounded surprised. “I'd imagine she would have taken out an entire mountain range when she went. The amount of power she'd accumulated over the centuries was ungodly.”
“Perhaps it atrophied over time,” the Shade would have checked his watch had he owned one. “But I need to find her daughter. Those that sought her mother's life now seek hers.”
“Easy enough to believe, though I can't imagine how they discovered she was even alive. Charsi's stunt on the Peninsula drew a lot of attention, but the girl was as much a secret as anything ever has been.”
The big man took his turn to think things over. It was a strange turn of events to have the King of the Shades save him from prison. Beyond strange, really. But crazier things had been happening.
“Alright,” he finally said. “I'll help you figure out where they went. But I won't go with you.” He continued past the Shade, away from the Docks. “We'd best lay low till sunset though, eh? Lots of prying eyes about, can't trust much of anyone anymore.”
The Shade simply nodded his agreement as he followed the big man up the rest of the stairs. He smiled to himself. The day was taking a promising turn.
TWENTY-TWO
ARDIN WAS SICK of life at sea in a sense that was all too literal. The waters had gotten choppy a few days out and they hadn't improved in well over a week. He wasn't nearly as sick as he had been, but being tossed about endlessly hadn't been received well by his stomach. Even as he began to get his sea legs, he couldn't wait to set foot on dry land. Sweet, wonderful, dry, motionless land.
They had discovered that only three or four men ever came down into th
e hold. And they only ever checked on equipment that was near the middle of the ship. So Ardin and Alisia stayed in the bow, which unfortunately moved as much as any part of the ship. They'd found food stores among the crates, and had done their best to dispose of leavings and their own waste without drawing suspicion.
Alisia's plan to reveal themselves to the crew had gone out the window the instant she discovered what they were. Or at least what they did.
Ardin had tried to ask her questions about Grandia, what she knew and how she knew it. But she'd kept her silence. He wasn't sure if it was seasickness or stark terror, but whatever was going on in her mind she didn't share it. She simply said that her mother had warned her of the forbidden continent, had told her things that kept her up at night. She had been there before, but only as a child. It was a dark place. She wanted nothing to do with it.
But as it stood, neither of them had much in the way of choice. They were only a few days out from Grandia. They had heard as much in the few exchanges they had been willing to eavesdrop on. Maybe they were closer, he didn't really know. He hoped they were closer, but he was afraid they weren't.
He was worried about Alisia more. She had closed herself off so much it was frightening to him. He wasn't even hurt by the fact that she had almost stopped talking as he didn't think there was anything he had done or could do to affect it. She cried a lot and his attempts at consoling her, while not entirely rejected, certainly didn't do much good either. He might as well have put his arm around a tree; it would have felt about the same level of comfort she seemed to.
Ardin was getting the sense that things were bigger than he perceived. What all it meant was beyond him; especially where it concerned himself. How all of this had conspired to come to pass was a mystery, as was the driving force behind his helping Alisia. Granted she was beautiful, and from time to time he thought he might love her, but that wasn't enough to step into this. Thinking you might love someone, and then only in rare moments of honest vulnerability, wasn't enough to throw your life away.
Or was it?
He sighed as he thought about it, the act both refreshing to his soured stomach and relieving of some tension. Whatever was to come, it was best they stepped into it and accepted it. Like the old fisherman had said. There was no point in denying it or wishing it was any different; he simply needed to lower his head and press on.
That was assuming they ever got off the damned ship. He looked over where Alisia lay sleeping in the dark. His heart and stomach bounced off of each other. He just wanted to talk with her. For her to reach out to him in turn. She needed time, and space. He understood that. But he needed a friend right now. He stood and made his way cautiously towards the crate of food they had broken into. The pitch and roll of the ship made it dangerous to walk among the shifting crates, but he managed well enough.
They had to work hard to stay fed, the seasickness making it difficult to keep food down at first. But even now he found himself never wanting to take so much as a bite. He got to the crate some distance off and opened it, rummaging through the food to find something appealing. There wasn't much to choose from, and even if there had been, he doubted anything would have sparked a desire. He wondered if he would ever enjoy food again.
Then he saw it, a light flashing against the bulkhead ahead through the crates behind him. He dropped to the deck instantly, shutting the lid of the crate as silently as he could manage. He waited, listening through the creaks and moans of the ship. The light had turned off again, leaving him in the near pitch blackness of the hold. Outside of the light that broke through ventilation shafts and loading ports in the ceiling, the place was totally dark. He suddenly felt sick to his stomach, different than the seasickness. It was the same sensation as when he had rescued Alisia from the Hunters.
A faint glow came from the other side of the crates, between Ardin and Alisia.
“Well well well, you was right,” came one of the familiar gruff voices.
“Told you we was missin' supplies.”
“Well yeah,” said the other. “I just figured maybe it were one of our own boys that done it.”
They'd found Alisia? Why didn't she fight them?
Ardin moved as quickly as he could, navigating the boxes as they rolled with the ship. He turned the corner to where they had been hiding just as the lights disappeared around a bend farther down the path. As he ran to catch up, he could hear laughter. The sound made his stomach sink. Why had he left her alone?
“Nah,” he could hear one of the voices say. “Don' tell the captain! Not ‘til we've had a bit o' fun with 'er.”
“You know she's worth more than all we's gonna make on this rotten trip?”
“Aye,” said the first. “But you know we might not make it back livin'. Might n'er see a woman again, and sure won't n'er find one looks so good.”
“Oi, you two!” A shout came from farther down as the lights flickered on. Ardin could see he had closed the distance and dove for cover before the light exposed him. Alisia was hanging limply between the two men.
“What you doin' back here?”
“Nothin' Clive, keep it down!”
“Aye Clive, you dog. You'll get half the ship down here,” said the other.
“Well what you doin' then?”
“Look what we found!” said the first.
“We was gonna get you,” said the second. “If'n no other reason than to say we done told you so.”
“A stow'ay!” The first cut in, “And a beauty at that.”
“What's wrong with 'er then,” Clive asked. “You didn't go and hurt her now, did ye?”
“Not yet,” the first spat. “Not proper. She's a witch, eh? We just flipped on one of these here rods and bang, limp as a rag.”
“Well that's nice then isn't it?” There was a pause.
Ardin's skin was crawling. The whole conversation made him want to scream and throw up all at once. Save her, came the thoughts burrowed deep in his mind. Kill the bastards.
“Take her aft, there's still stables back there from when they used to haul horses. We can have 'er there.”
The three men continued walking, paying the tears streaming down Alisia's face no heed. Not caring much in any case. What had started as a potential nuisance might prove to be the most profitable and pleasurable part of their voyage.
“Not just any witch neither,” the first piped up again. “A right fugitive we found here. Price on her head that'd pay ten men's wages for life! Elandir wants her alive, no one knows why, so we best be careful 'n not hurt her too bad.”
“Oh shut up, Bill.”
Clive wasn't missing this opportunity, whatever may be at stake. They made their way past the mechanical equipment in the middle of the ship and towards the stables aft. The engines were yet farther down on the deck below them, their rumble and vibration more pronounced the closer they got.
“You and Tom think you know what's goin' on, but I'll tell you what's goin' on. We're havin’ a grand time with this whore and if she makes it through, then good fer ‘er. And if the captain catches wind of it, she were just some girl and we threw’d her overboard.”
Ardin could see them clearly again, working his way up but wanting to keep his presence secret. He grabbed a large wrench as he passed the workbenches. Bill wasn't buying Clive's pitch.
“Oi!” He dropped the girl to shove Clive. “You listen good, she's worth a fair price and Tom and I found 'er, we ain't given that up for nothin'. Not you nor nobody!”
Clive decked Bill square in the face, who slammed into the bulkhead and slid to the ground with as much violence. Clive laughed as the other man covered his face.
“Well that's what you get for being a right puff then.”
He grabbed the arm that Bill had dropped and dragged Alisia roughly into one of the stalls. Tom was almost dragged along as much as she was before letting go. Clive took her and threw her easily into a corner of the small stall so that she was barely leaning on the bulkhead.
&nb
sp; “Right Tom, give a man some space then,” Clive said as he unbuckled his belt. “Smells like she ain't had a bath in weeks! Woman after me own heart.”
Tom backed out of the room and checked on Bill. He didn't like seeing his friend get punched like that, but there wasn't much he could do. Of all the thieves and murderers aboard the Capsatian, none were as bullish or lethal as Clive Fiske.
“You alright there, Bill?” Tom asked.
“I'm good,” Bill shook Tom's hand from his arm.
There was some blood on his upper lip, but he didn't seem in too bad of shape.
“Bastard's gonna ruin her for us,” he said. “In more ways than one.”
“Don't worry your head about it, Bill,” Tom tried to reassure his friend. “Besides, ain't likely the rest of the crew would help us out much different.”
They didn't really get to finish their conversation, as they heard a loud crack followed by Clive's wailing.
“You turn off the MARD then, Tom?”
“No! Did you?”
They rushed in to find Clive writhing on the floor with his hands on his head. Blood was pouring from between his fingers. The girl was still lying in the corner, eyes wide open, unmoving.
“The hell?”
“She do this to you, then Clive?”
Clive simply cursed at them, but the words came out mangled and strange.
“He'll not be on his feet for a while then will he?”
“Look out!”
Tom pushed Bill in time to avoid a blow from a large wrench as it swung through the air. He lunged for it and caught the hand attached to the other end. He pulled hard and brought Ardin tumbling down from the empty storage racks above.
“The hell is this then Bill?” He gave Ardin a swift kick in the guts and pulled the wrench from his hands. “I think the lad was tryin' to do you like he did poor Clive over there.”
He kicked Ardin again for good measure.
“Right.” Bill walked over. “Two sto'ways, then? You know what we do to sto'ways?” he asked as he bent over the boy. Ardin couldn't answer for fear; he simply looked up at the big man and clutched his stomach. “We kills 'em, we does. And seeins how you ain't as pretty as your girlfriend over here, we won't keep you ‘round for any fun in the meantime.”