“They're my crew,” Carmine lied smoothly.
“Really,” the soldier said. “Your papers tell me differently. Flying Fish, crew of one, pilot, Carmin Rowsseew.”
“What's this? Why have we been held up?” Dylan demanded, joining us from the rear cabins where our supplies and horses were kept.
In a chain reaction, several of the soldiers put their hands on their sword hilts. The lead soldier held a hand up, and they relaxed.
“The navy?” Dylan asked, sauntering past the row of armored men. “You, what's your name and rank?”
The lead soldier went rigid. “Who do you think you are? Bite your tongue, boy, or I'll have you in chains.”
Dylan smirked in ill humor, probably because he'd worn chains so recently. The smile vanished. “Who I think I am is Lord Dylan Axton, and I've been charged with the task of escorting Historian Kestrel as she completes a much anticipated volume for the Prince. This is our pilot Carmine, and her newly hired crew. Now, if you're finished jawing back at me, I'd like to have your name and rank.”
The man looked as though he'd been knocked from his horse. He blinked rapidly. Dylan rotated his wrist signaling the man to hurry up and speak. “Sorry, sir. Lieutenant Dremmond, fifth division, Cape Hill.”
“Belated respect is better than none, I suppose,” Dylan said coming over to stand beside me. “Now, release us on our business or fetch your superior.”
I allowed a subtle breath of relief to escape my lungs.
“That won't be necessary,” came a woman's voice. I felt her presence as clearly as I'd heard her words. A terrible tension descended, lashing against my heart and lungs. I was not the only person affected. The moment she stepped aboard the deck, every soldier onboard snapped to attention. Even Carmine and Dylan straightened with the kind of wide-eyed respect that preceded a justified fear.
She was tall, well over six feet in height, and clad in exceptionally ornate black leather armor, slashed with red. A jagged helm with a smooth face shield protected her head, only allowing her lips and jaw to show. The back of her helm was a tangle of decorative grey horns, spiking out behind her. A long, dark braid of hair plunged from the back of the headdress, hanging below her waist.
She was immense. Not because of her height, or any other physical measurement. An intangible current, thick with oppression, torment and pain, flowed all about her. It was as though she wore a cloak of death and I could smell her intent on the wind. I wasn't looking at a human. Humans didn't command this kind of presence.
I found myself watching her every move with rapt attention.
Two Dragoons were with her, at her flank. I could tell by their armor. The woman came to stand near the lieutenant, creating a triangle between us. I gritted my teeth hard, fighting to keep calm.
She was a Commander. It wasn't just a military title, it was the name of a person who had absorbed the energy of another. Their strength, resilience, and power would increase from the draining, and they would gain the capacity to physically control nearby people. As a side-effect to draining another person, a unique metallic substance would tear through the skin, physically warping the Commander. Dylan had become one such mutation, but this woman was something far worse.
Dull silver metal rent her body, twisting and jutting from the armor that covered her neck, collarbones, shoulders, and arms, leaving no skin visible. Only one gloved hand appeared human in shape, the other was a mismatched set of talons. The armor she wore was specially fitted to cover certain areas of her warped body and reveal her metallic deformities. I had never seen anyone transformed to such a degree, and if the cut of her hard leather armor was any indication, she was proud of her physical corruption.
“You're dismissed Lieutenant. You may return to your ship,” she said, taking Carmine's leather book from him. Her voice was as much a duality as she was. Layered, half of it came out smooth and feminine, the other dry and raspy. Her transformation had even changed her vocal chords. The result was unnatural at best.
“Yes, Margrave,” the man said, bowing stiffly. He barked an order to his men, and they departed.
I froze with deathly stillness. I’d been frightened enough thinking she was a Commander. She was the Margrave!
She tilted her head down at Carmine's papers, flipping through the pages.
Gravity... we're dead.
Following Dylan's instructions, I bowed as lowly as I could manage. I was so nervous I had no idea whether anyone else was following etiquette. I silently begged Kyle and Sterling to keep quiet. Why did I let them come this far? I was such a massive idiot!
“Rise, all of you.” The Margrave was still flipping through Carmine's book when I looked up again. She didn't seem very interested in formal displays of subservience. “Carmine Rousseau,” she said. “What a pretty doll you are, and all dressed up as a pilot. You know, I've heard that some toymakers are able to create dolls that speak? It's a little mechanical box with pre-recorded phrases, and it fits right into the casing of the doll's body. Marvelous, don't you think? Says here that you haul trade. Have you ever seen one? Of the dolls, I mean.”
Carmine shifted uncomfortably. “Maybe, I-I don't know, sir.”
The Margrave smiled, her perfectly round lips upturned at the corners. I wished I could see her eyes, to know which of us she was looking at. She closed the book of official papers and rapped on the cover with the long claw of a single talon. “They're only made in the North, cost a small fortune to get one here. War can be such nasty business. Tell me, Pilot Rousseau, what kind of a doll are you?”
“I'm no doll, my lady Margrave.” Carmine said, keeping perfectly calm, as though her life depended on it. It did. The double meaning woven into the conversation was clear.
“Indeed, no?” The Margrave was looking her over. I could tell by the inclination of her head. “Well, your papers seem to agree. And so does your company. Common-Lord Axton the younger, I presume.”
“I am,” Dylan said, his pride undisguised. “Meeting you is an honor that could only be rivaled by the Prince, himself.”
Hest peeled herself away from Carmine and descended on Dylan. She was lean, graceful, and significantly taller than him. The Margrave circled him slowly. “I've made it my business to know each and every potential common leader of noble birth. You weren't present when I made my visit to Breakwater.”
Dylan stood straight and tall against her scrutiny, and maintained a guise of pleasant calm. I didn’t know how he could do it with her strolling around him the way she was. Why was she doing that? Could she tell that he was a Commander? If she figured that out, he was as good as dead, and we’d be sure to follow.
I tensed.
“I was regrettably detained,” he said, his polite words hiding a barb meant for me. He didn’t look worried. Then again, he was an excellent actor.
“Well, it simply makes our meeting today doubly fortuitous. You see, I am an avid reader and I've been told you travel with a Historian. Kestrel, yes? I'm afraid I've never heard of you.” She stopped beside Dylan and turned upon me, emanating a torrent of malicious energy, held back only by the web of her gentle words.
Dylan swooped in to my rescue. “This will be Historian Kestrel's first contribution to Prince Raserion's grand library. We met by happenstance and I was lucky enough to see a sample of her fine writing. The choice to champion her work was an easy one.”
The Margrave didn't look away from me. “Is that so? Tell me, young lady, what is the topic for your volume?”
I scrambled, inwardly groping for an answer that wouldn't get us all killed. Dylan was looking at me with a clenched jaw. I had to think! What subject would sound unique enough to impress a bloodthirsty prince, and draw attention away from our trespassing? I didn't know enough about the Outside World to be certain, but I could make an educated guess.
“The glory of Penalty,” I blurted, hoping beyond reason that it was the right idea.
Dylan rocked back on his heels, and the Margrave smiled at me. “Tha
t explains why you travel with a Lord of Breakwater,” she said. “Splendid. This is a book I personally look forward to reading. I'll expedite your journey to Cape Hill to the best of my ability. Pilot, I'm afraid the way to the main harbor has been blocked. An act of sabotage by those impish cowards of the North.”
My skin crawled for Carmine. If they searched the ship, they might learn about her true citizenship.
“You will wait until we are certain the waterway is safe again, at which time you will be flagged to pass,” the Margrave continued, handing Carmine her book.
“Thank you, sir,” Carmine said, bowing.
“You can reunite with your passengers in Cape Hill, pilot. I see no reason to waste the Historian’s time with waiting,” the Margrave said and faced me again. “You and the young Lord will gather your things and join me ashore. If you have horses, bring them. We'll be traveling by land. Lets see if we can't enrich that volume of yours.”
Chapter 17: Split
“That wasn't supposed to happen!” Dylan groaned, slamming his back against the inner wall of the cargo cabin.
Within his travel stall, my great grey gelding clattered and scraped a hoof against his gate. His chest heaved, his velvet ears flattened, and he snorted and squealed. The other three equines danced nervously in response.
“Calm down,” I told him. “You're scaring the horses.”
My hands were shaking so hard, I fumbled with the latch of my supply pack, but I didn't let anyone see. I rooted through the canvas bag, feeling carefully for a familiar fabric. The texture that met my fingertips was soft in some places, and coarse in others. Hands steadying a little, I pulled the long orange scarf from the pack.
“I don't care about the bloody horses, I care about living to see tomorrow,” he shot back. Dylan caught sight of what I'd brought and his eyes rolled to the side in disgust. “You still have that old rag? Don't even think of putting it on. Unless, that is, you'd like to draw even more suspicion to our doomed enterprise.”
I sighed, rolling the fabric between my fingers. In the end, I stuffed it back into my satchel. A knee length grey coat had been added to my ensemble. The weather outside was much colder than I was accustomed to. Dylan said that if we wore similar shades, I'd be psychologically associated with him and appear as less of an obvious intruder. I wasn't sure it would be enough.
Sterling got up from where he was sitting beside me, and comforted the animals. I couldn't hear him, but his quiet manner succeeded in relaxing them.
“Why did she have to be here now? She must be loving this. Hest,” the name slithered from his throat. “She's the one who chose to exact Penalty on Breakwater. It must be such a treat to find me here, with a Historian, celebrating our punishment.”
“That's a traitorous tone if I've ever heard one,” Carmine said, appearing in the doorway with Kyle.
“What is it that you're implying, witch?” Dylan asked, temper spiking.
She smiled. “Am I a witch now? Not two days ago, you told me I was lovely.”
“A momentary lapse in judgment,” he quipped back.
“At any rate, I come in peace,” Carmine said raising her delicate hands. “Your friend Kyle here told me that you've discovered my citizenship. I'd just like you all to know that you can speak freely with me. I'm from a small village in the North called Delton. I have five cousins, all children. Their parents, my aunt and uncle, were both killed in the war four years ago. The region was overrun, if you remember. I produce the only income those children see. I am a citizen of the North, and while I'm simply trying to make a living in precarious times, I'd still be slated for the axe if I were found out. It's a... a hard life, but I do what I can.”
“I'd say that warrants fifty percent off,” Dylan smiled.
“You cruel...” she began.
“Twenty percent,” he tested.
“Fine!” she said exasperated. “Just don't say anything.”
“Dylan!” Kyle reprimanded.
“What?” he shrugged. “Am I really the only practical person on this ship? Besides Carmine? We need that money more than she does.”
“How dare you?” she hissed.
“I dare,” he countered.
“Okay,” I broke in. “Stop it. I'm nervous enough right now to be queasy, and your arguing is seriously making me want to throw up. If you don't mind, I'd rather not force you to mop up my breakfast from your shoes.” That seemed gross enough to snap everyone out of it. I doubt they expected that kind of a pep talk. “Now, I really don't like the idea of separating, but me and Dylan have to go to meet the Margrave. There's a very good chance she's going to figure us out and kill me.”
“And not me? How optimistic,” Dylan grumbled.
“At least you'll all remember me like this, young, beautiful and stupid,” I chuckled and almost dry heaved. No one else laughed. “Anyway, um... I think Carmine should turn the ship around and bring you guys back to Breakwater.”
“What?” Sterling asked, startled.
Kyle frowned. “No!”
“You're right,” Dylan agreed. “And we should probably go with them.”
“It's safer this way,” I insisted, ignoring Dylan.
“No,” Kyle repeated. “It's not. You'll have no help. No quick way home. You're not thinking this through, Kat. We can still help you. Besides, what we choose to do isn’t up to you. It’s not your responsibility. We’re friends, not children.”
“I know that,” I said quietly.
“What would we do in Breakwater? Sit at the keep outside Ruby's door, wondering if you needed our help after all? Waiting to hear bad news? No. We're coming with you,” Sterling insisted, squaring his broad shoulders.
Right. Ruby. Why the heck did they have to follow me?
“It seems like a poor choice,” Carmine agreed. “You'll need a way back. We'll meet you at the Cape Hill harbor. Check for us every day. We'll be there. When you've found the person you're looking for, we'll have the Flying Fish ready for a return trip.”
“I've had some ideas for modifications that will make her run smoother and faster,” Kyle added.
“Agree to stick to the plan,” Sterling said conspiratorially. “And I'll tell you what the Margrave's Ability is.”
“That's not fair,” I whined.
He looked at me sideways and smiled.
“Ugh, fine.” Dangling an Ability in front of me was the only thing important enough to make me change my mind.
Carmine seemed to miss Sterling’s admittance to a very valuable Ability, but Dylan did not. He quirked a brow with interest. I slowly shook my head at him.
“Bone,” Sterling told me.
Dylan shuddered. “The Ivory. Ugh. No wonder she was promoted so quickly.”
“Is that what it’s called? The Ivory?” Sterling asked. “She controls bone. Why give it an extra name?”
Dylan shrugged.
“Pizazz,” Kyle offered.
I ignored the exchange. “Sterling, are you sure? You didn't touch her.”
“Didn't need to. The more a person uses their talents, the easier it is for me to notice. Go a year without using it, and I won't have any clue.”
“Great. I clearly wasn't scared of her enough. Everything's fine now that she's obviously my worst nightmare,” I complained, feeling dizzy. Was this really my life? It all seemed impossible. I was here for Haven, Ruby and my mother. I had to be strong for them, strong enough to walk into the custody of a woman that made Commander Stakes look like a misunderstood man of simple ambition. My head reeled, and I stumbled a step into a stack of food crates. I caught myself, but still managed to look like an idiot.
“I'm okay, I'm okay. I just tripped,” I said, fighting to bring my strength back, “...while standing. I do that sometimes.”
“Kat,” Kyle said worried.
“I'm fine,” I insisted.
“You can do this,” he encouraged. “Just stay on your feet.”
I smiled, in spite of myself. “So that's what I
was missing.”
“You're one of the bravest people I've known. You terrorized half of the valley while we were growing up. Control your fear, don't let it show.”
“Yeah, I'll just pretend this is a big game,” I said, sarcastic.
“Exactly! It's not an irresponsible way to look at things. You already know the stakes.”
“Please don't say that word.”
“What I mean is, you already know how serious the situation is, how dangerous. Being afraid on top of that isn't going to help you. So, the next logical approach is to pretend that this sort of thing is normal. Keep your sense of humor, and try to relax.”
“Your skinny friend is right,” Dylan said, earning a glare from Kyle. “It will be more convincing. If we're careful, we can make this work. I'm not going to say that twice.”
“Don't worry about us,” Sterling added. “Simplify things and it will be easier. Take it a moment at a time. We'll be waiting at the harbor.”
“Waiting at the harbor,” I repeated, breathing deeply. “Okay.”
“Yeah, we'll be fine. We're with Carmine,” Kyle said.
“I wouldn't strike her up as an asset,” Dylan said. “I'm a much better pilot than she is.”
“I'm still in the room,” Carmine pointed out with a huff.
“Alright,” I finally agreed. Tension was heavy upon me. I couldn't stand the close quarters of the ship a minute longer anyway. “We'll meet you in Cape Hill.”
Chapter 18: Hest
“Simplify things. Pretend this is normal. It's just a game.” That was my mantra. I must have whispered it to myself over a hundred times between the harbor and our meeting point with Margrave Hest.
It wasn't difficult to find her. We only needed to follow the army. At first, I was surprised she didn't leave an escort. The reason became clear. She'd believed us. According to Dylan's description, Historians were zealots for conflict, always hoping to see Prince Raserion's conquests with their own eyes. Where else would I go?
Not for the first time, I wished that Rune were with me. Even the thought of him being out here somewhere lent me strength. Seeing him again was too much to hope for.
Dragoon (War of the Princes Book 2) Page 10