Shattering of the Nocturnai Box Set

by Carrie Summers

  “Just when I was beginning to wonder if I had a single competent man left,” Trader Ulstat muttered. He crossed his arms over his chest and waited for the dripping-wet sailor to stagger down the beach.

  The man stopped in front of his master and sketched a small bow. “It’s done, sir.”

  “That much was obvious in the large spout of flame,” the trader said. “I assume we were successful?”

  “She sank with no survivors,” the man affirmed.

  The words felt like I’d been kicked in the chest. A gasp leaked from my throat, and my hand found Nyralit’s. Captain Altak . . .

  “You’re sure of this?” the trader asked. “We won’t encounter unexpected resistance when the longboat fetches us?”

  “I waited on the shore. None swam free of the wreck.”

  “And where are your fellow volunteers?”

  “Drowned, sir. The pull of the ships sucked them down.”

  “Yet you survived . . .” The trader narrowed his eyes at his man. “Were you just lucky? Or did you leap free of the decks sooner than you were instructed.”

  The man shifted his gaze back and forth. “I . . . well . . . Perhaps you could say I had a better sense of timing than some of my fellow crewmen.”

  “Interesting,” Trader Ulstat said. “Yet I’m sure you waited until there was no doubt of success. I suppose you can’t be blamed for the others’ inability to make the same judgment.”

  “No, sir.”

  Like a cracking whip, Trader Ulstat hit the man across the face with a savage backhand. Staggering, the sailor made a weak attempt to get his forearms up to defend against another blow.

  “I’m inclined to punish you further. But you’ve brought me good news, so I’ll be merciful. You might as well start back. It’s a long walk overland to Ilaraok, and you’ll be thirsty before you arrive.”

  With a nod, the man trotted off along the beach and disappeared over a rise. I turned to my friends, horrified.

  Nyralit chewed her lip, a single tear slipping down her cheek. However destroyed I felt, she had to be experiencing that ten times over—she and Captain Altak had been lovers for years. Hugging her tight, I moved so that Trader Ulstat couldn’t see the grief he’d caused.

  Around us, the night was as cold as our hearts. Even the guards seemed chilled by the mood; they didn’t dare come close again. Finally, the eastern horizon paled. In the cold hours of the early morning, my bleak rage had turned to resolve. My heart was harder than before, and I knew I would do whatever it took to ruin House Ulstat.

  The coming sun offered no warmth. My joints had stiffened from enduring the night’s cool in damp clothing. Starting with my fingers, I worked out the chill. Given the opportunity, I wouldn’t hesitate to wrap my hands around Trader Ulstat’s neck and choke the life from him.

  I stood, pretending to stretch. Moving on to loosen my wrists and ankles, then my knees and hips, I got ready to act. I shuffled in a circle at the limit of my chain, scanning the trees behind us. With a deep breath of the sea air, I smelled a faint hint of the refineries drifting all the way from Ilaraok. Trader Ulstat had mentioned a longboat. Maybe I could manage to get a chain wrapped around his neck before our ferry—and more guards—came.

  Jaret worked his way toward me, hopelessly tangling the chains that bound us.

  “Do you really think they’re dead?” he asked quietly.

  I glanced at Trader Ulstat—his ear was cocked toward us. The man enjoyed our grief.

  “Many people have sacrificed to stop the Ulstats,” I said. “And I intend to avenge every single one.”

  Jaret’s lower lip sucked between his teeth. I knew he wouldn’t cry, not with Trader Ulstat watching. But he hadn’t had the experience I’d had with violence and death. I hated that he had to learn about it now. When I got on tiptoes to put my arm around his shoulder, one of our guards stepped closer, growling.

  “Oh, let her comfort her baby brother,” Trader Ulstat said, sneering. “Our ride will arrive soon. Will be easier for us to manage him if he’s not sniveling and whining all the way back to the capital.”

  Beneath my arm, Jaret tensed. He raised a fist, ready to strike at the Ulstat prime. As I stepped between him and Trader Ulstat, I collided with Da.

  Even shackled, Da was an impressive presence. His gentleness with us made it easy to forget, but as I watched Trader Ulstat’s eyes shift up to look Da in the face, I remembered what other people saw. My father’s jaw was set, his eyes blazing.

  “My son is one of the bravest boys in the Islands,” Da said.

  Trader Ulstat smirked. “If you say so.”

  “Let it go, Da,” I said. “Jaret’s too smart to let an Ulstat bother him. Right?” I squeezed Jaret’s shoulder.

  “You always told me that traders had no self-respect,” Jaret said. “Now that I’ve met this man, I understand what you meant. If you can call him a man, that is.”

  Da smiled crookedly. “Compared to you, he’s still a suckling infant.”

  Trader Ulstat’s cheek twitched, but he didn’t respond.

  I touched my father on the elbow. “Sit. We should save our strength.”

  “Trader,” said one of the guards, pointing over the water. I glared at his back. If just two of the Ulstat guardsmen had wandered off, we might have been able to overpower the rest. But they’d been annoyingly steadfast in their duty.

  Following the direction of the man’s finger, I spotted a longboat entering the bay. Six men pulled the oars. The boat sliced through wavelets lit orange by the rising sun.

  A guard unlocked us from the tree and dragged the chain across the beach, forcing us to stumble toward the waterline. I grimaced when dried blood peeled away from the cut on my ankle.

  As the boat drew nearer, an oarsman called out, “Rough seas, sir. Will be a difficult trip back.”

  “I hired you for your strong back, not your opinion,” Trader Ulstat said.

  The man’s lips clamped shut over his next words. As the longboat scraped the sand in the shallows, the guard yanked again on the chains. “Hurry up.”

  Surveying his oarsmen, Trader Ulstat’s brows drew together—the men looked absolutely exhausted. I squinted and peered toward the strait. From here, the large, rolling waves looked innocent enough. But a glance at the point where they slammed against the shore cured that impression. The frothy spray fountained higher than a ship’s mast. I shuddered.

  “I really don’t want to drown,” I said. “Your men are exhausted.”

  Trader Ulstat rolled his eyes. “Oh, all right.” He nodded at the guard with the keys. “The father will help row. Unfasten his wrists.” He paused. “And Trader Ovintak’s.”

  Raav’s eyes met mine, questioning. Was I trying to get us ready to escape? I shook my head, a subtle motion. Not now. Too dangerous.

  After the guard had unfastened his cuffs, Da rubbed his chafed wrists, squinting into the morning glare. I could see his thoughts working. After a moment, he glanced at the terrain behind us and gave a slight shake of his head. He’d reached the same conclusion I had. Better to wait before we tried anything. Da might be a gutterborn egg-seller, but he was smart.

  “All right, everyone into the boat,” said the trader.

  As if just noticing the cuff on my ankle, I raised my leg and inspected it, then reached down and lifted the chain. “I'm not sure how you expect us to get in there all tangled up.”

  “Guess she’s as stupid as she looks,” a guard said, jabbing me in the back with his elbow. I stumbled and fell to my knees in ankle-deep water. Raav leaped to my side and helped me up. I glared at the guard.

  “Like you said, hold on to that emotion. We’ll need it later,” Raav whispered as he stepped away and shuffled toward the boat.

  We clambered gracelessly aboard, settling into the bottom of the hull. Trader Ulstat took a seat in the bow facing the sea. As we made space for the oarsmen, I glanced toward the trees. Another shadow moved through them. Having heard tales of the Ulstat obses
sion with trophy hunting, I hoped the pitiful creature would keep to the shadows.

  When the men had taken up the oars, Trader Ulstat nodded at the guards. One climbed into the boat and grabbed the tiller while the others sloshed back to shore.

  “See that you’re back to Ilaraok by sunset,” Trader Ulstat called. “I’ve recalled men from the strongholds. Until they arrive, I need all available fighters defending our grounds.”

  Raav was nestled behind me, and his legs provided a backrest. I turned my head and laid my cheek against his knee. He released an oar and ran his palm over my hair. I smiled, if a bit sadly. I knew Raav cared about me, but my chest panged every time I remembered how cold he’d been toward me in Trader Council Hall after I’d had him freed from the gallows. My eyes strayed to Tyrak, shoved into the sheath on Trader Ulstat’s belt. I missed him so much.

  As the oarsman tugged at their paddles, pulling us toward the mouth of the bay, I tried to prepare myself for the sight of the shipwreck. What would we see? The sunken husks? Burned flotsam? Or maybe there’d be nothing to mark the site of my friends’ deaths.

  As we crossed out of the bay, the first wave grabbed the boat and threw us skyward. My hands shot to the gunwales as we plummeted back down. The waves were two or three times as tall as our low vessel; in this swell, I wouldn’t be able to see past the next wave crest, much less look for wreckage. The men dug at their oars. As we rounded the point, the crash of the waves drowned their shouts.

  Eyes wide, Da and Raav pulled hard. Trader Ulstat yelled and gestured to his men, directing them into deeper water where the waves wouldn’t break over the top of us. Still, the vessel pitched steeply over each wave crest, threatening to toss us from the boat. With the heavy chain binding us together, we’d never survive being thrown overboard.

  “Unfasten us,” I yelled. “We’re no good to you drowned.”

  Teeth gritted, Trader Ulstat fixed me with his stare. After a moment, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the key. Nyralit sat nearest him. Without speaking, he handed her the key. Despite the violent pitching of the boat, within minutes we were free.

  Raav’s knuckles were white around the oars, and behind him, my father bared his teeth in a snarl of concentration. As the bottom of the boat filled with water, I grabbed pails from beneath the benches, passed one each to Nyralit and Jaret. We bailed as fast as we could, barely keeping ahead of the water that poured over the rails. Even the hardened sailors pulling the oars looked terrified. But we had to keep working.

  For what felt like hours, we struggled against the waves, ducking into the shelter of the island where possible. Finally, long past midday, we reached Ilaraok. Once inside the shelter of the harbor, we slumped against the rails, exhausted. Only Da had the strength to keep rowing for the wharf.

  As we neared shore, I raised my head from Raav’s knee and looked past Trader Ulstat’s shoulder at the approaching city. I’d spent my childhood dreaming of adventures in foreign places. Seeing Ilaraok squatting over the water, filthy and square-cut, that dream withered.

  I ran my eyes over Trader Ulstat, wondering whether he was too tired to be vigilant. Ugly and dirty it might be, but Ilaraok was still a major port. If we could escape here, we had a good chance of securing passage back to Istanik. Or maybe even supplying an expedition to Ioene. In his exhaustion, Trader Ulstat hadn’t yet bothered to have our chains re-fastened. We wouldn’t get far if we tried to swim now, but if I could catch him unawares, spring forward and pull Tyrak free . . .

  I glanced at the sheath buckled to the trader’s belt.

  My heart stuttered.

  Tyrak was gone.

  I couldn’t help it—I cried out. The seas had been so rough, but I hadn’t even considered what we might have lost overboard. Plenty of things, no doubt.

  But for me, only the dagger mattered.

  I sat stunned. Despondent. As we approached the wharf, I didn’t even bother to look up.

  Chapter Three

  THE BRIGHT, ARAOKAN sun pressed down on the island like an iron, casting stark shadows on the harsh, soot-stained architecture. When our boat was around a hundred paces from the dock, Trader Ulstat ordered the guards to fasten our chains. Once Da’s hands were cuffed, the oarsmen groaned, reluctantly took up their paddles and rowed the final distance.

  A pair of dock workers extended a rickety gangway to join our small vessel to the sun-bleached dock. Once the lines had been secured, our captors shoved us up the tilting plank and onto Ilaraok’s shore. Unlike the waterfront at Istanik, with its precise stonework—before the Ulstats had shown up anyway—the wharf edging Ilaraok’s harbor was constructed of old, warped planks. Gaps on the boardwalk showed the black waters beneath. Beyond the narrow boardwalk, earthen streets led off toward the mines and the city center. Ilaraok was indeed an ugly place, the buildings blocky with small windows, the streets rutted. As if cowering beneath the craggy hills on either side, the city wedged into a flat-bottomed valley, at the head of which sprawled House Ulstat’s compound.

  As I looked up the potholed street toward House Ulstat, the ache in my ankle worsened. I clenched my jaw as Trader Ulstat strode up.

  “Tired?” he asked, smirking.

  When I rolled my eyes, he took my chain himself, yanking hard to set me in motion. A fresh spurt of blood gushed from beneath the shackle, soaking my foot. I balled my fists, fighting tears as the pain joined my grief for Tyrak’s loss.

  “Lilik,” Da said. “Your foot . . .”

  I shook my head, but it was too late. Trader Ulstat spun and, after glancing down at my foot, cast me a smile laden with false sympathy.

  “My apologies, Councilor Boket. I’ll see to it the healer visits you. Now move,” he growled as he jerked my chain.

  As we marched through the streets of Ilaraok, commoners peered from alleys and darkened windows. At home, gutterborn had always moved freely through the city, but here guards patrolled the streets, shoving back onlookers. More than one cudgel landed hard on someone’s spine. With every blow that fell, I cringed, reaching for the dagger that would never again ride at my hip.

  Near the harbor, light sea breezes had dispersed the dust and smoke. As we marched deeper into the city, the still air was stifling. Coughing at the reek of burning coal, the hot-metal smell of the smithies, and the airborne haze of pummeled stone, I understood why the buildings were so stained. Every niche and crack was black with coal dust and soot, and where weeds had managed to sprout on the earthen street, the leaves were limp and coated with dirt.

  Movement in an alley caught my eye, and I halted, peering. The way the shadow darted, almost furtive, reminded me of the figure I saw in the trees back at the beach. Before I could catch another glimpse, Trader Ulstat yanked my chain again, sending me stumbling. My toe caught in a rut, and I hit the ground, dust puffing into my eyes and filling my mouth.

  Behind, the guard carrying the chain binding my family laughed.

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” Trader Ulstat said. He extended a hand to help me up. I glared as I stood without help and started marching forward again.

  After maybe half an hour of the agonizing procession, we reached the gates to House Ulstat’s grounds. A stone fence topped with iron spikes surrounded the compound, and a heavy slab of metal that ran in a wheeled track had been pulled across the opening. Upon reaching this gate, Trader Ulstat pounded on the metal.

  A boy of about thirteen peered over the fence. “Yes?” he asked before immediately blushing and disappearing. Moments later, he called through the gate.

  “A minute, Trader. I’ll fetch someone.”

  I caught Raav’s eye. Had Trader Ulstat sent so many guardsmen to attack Istanik that he couldn’t post an adult sentry at his own home? If a force from Istanik sailed here now and attacked, they’d have little trouble wresting Ilaraok from Ulstat control. Judging by the interested expression on his face, Raav was thinking similar thoughts. If we could just get a message back . . .

  Trader Ulstat looked at me with narr
owed eyes, probably guessing the gist of my thoughts. As if to remind me who was the prisoner here, he lifted my chain and raised his eyebrows.

  After a moment, the gate rolled open with a shriek. Beyond spread the desolate grounds of House Ulstat, a sullen place of unadorned buildings and gardens that might once have held blooming trees but now boasted bare-limbed brush and jagged stones.

  “Welcome to House Ulstat,” the prime trader said with only a hint of irony.

  Dragging us forward, the guards remained stony faced. As I entered the compound, I glanced over my shoulder, hoping for a last glimpse of the harbor and the waves that had taken Tyrak. No luck—between the big, ugly buildings and the smog, I saw no water. But as the gate rolled shut, I caught another flicker of motion. I peered, getting up on tiptoes for a better look.

  My breath stopped and my eyes widened when I finally recognized the small figure who’d been shadowing us through the streets.

  Geren, otherwise known as Skink, was a little rat who’d stowed away on the Nocturnai. He’d nearly been killed for it, but that hadn’t dampened his enthusiasm for the resistance on Istanik. Following our capture, he must have hidden aboard the schooner, somehow managed to swim ashore in the night, and followed the guards back to the city. And now, he probably had plans to sneak into the compound and rescue us. If the Ulstats caught him here, he’d never see Istanik again.

  I gritted my teeth so hard I felt the pressure in my eye sockets.

  A dour mood hung inside the Ulstat manor. Trader Ulstat stalked into the entry foyer, a wide, low-ceilinged area floored with black and gray slate, and threw aside my chain. It clanged against the floor while blood from my ankle oozed into my leather shoe. When the front door shut with a thud, plunging the room into near-darkness, the guards dropped the other chains. I squinted through the dimness, trying to get an idea of how secure the door was and whether it had a sturdy lock. A pinch-faced butler stood beside the entrance, eyes fixed on Trader Ulstat. If his loyalty to the House wavered, he wasn’t showing it now.