by Kova, Elise
“We could gamble for coin?” The way he said it told Vi he had no expectations of that actually happening. So she played right into those expectations.
“I’m afraid I don’t have much. It’d make for a boring game.” Vi made a show of thinking hard. “Say, if you’re a trader… your vessel must be nearby.”
“Anchored off the other side of the cliffs,” the fool announced proudly, further confirming all of Vi’s suspicions.
“Then how about this: if I win, you take me with you to wherever it is you’re going next?”
“And if I win?” The man asked with such obvious expectation. Vi hadn’t thought of that and she quickly rummaged her mind—but came up with nothing. Luckily, he had an idea for her. “How about you still come with me… but you’re not my guest. You’re my deck wench.”
“All right,” Vi agreed quickly. It didn’t matter what she bet. This was all going to end with him having a sword in his gut. “I’m feeling lucky.”
“Let’s hope you are, Marnie.”
Charlie shuffled and dealt. Vi’s eyes were focused on his motions, trying to catch the sleight-of-hand she knew was there. She was so intent on him that she didn’t even notice the man who had entered from around the back door behind the bar.
A hand covered the cards and Vi followed the forearm up to a shoulder, to the man who had a smirk smeared across his ruddy beard. Fallor leaned against the bar as though he owned the place; even the bartender gave him a wide berth.
“You don’t need to flip those,” he said. Vi narrowed her eyes slightly, not wanting to show for a moment that her hands were trembling. “I can already tell you, your luck has run out.” Then louder, to the other patrons, “The rest of you—out.”
As though issued a command from a lord, the rest of the bar came to its feet. There was some grumbling from particularly red-faced patrons in the back corner, but no one objected. Even the bartender calmly set down the glass he’d been polishing and left through the back door Fallor had entered from.
Fallor wasn’t supposed to be there. Vi’s heart was racing. He had been in his bird form almost exclusively according to Arwin, patrolling the edges of the Twilight Forest. They were supposed to have a chance to take out his lackeys before he even knew they were there. Or, at worst, catch him mid-fight.
They’d planned, and Fallor had been one step ahead.
“Now, last I saw you, you were traveling with the Voice himself. Where is he hiding?” A pulse of magic rushed over her, disorienting and powerful. Vi vaguely recognized it from the field that night—it was the same magic that had disrupted Taavin’s Lightspinning.
“I’ll never tell you.” If Taavin was still operating to plan, he was positioned somewhere in the square, hood up, as inconspicuous as possible, watching the entrance of the bar.
“No matter.” Fallor turned his eyes to her. “He’s not here now. Good. I wanted to speak with you alone.”
“And what makes you think I want to listen to you?” Fire crackled around her balled fists, singeing the bar. “I’m much stronger than when you last met me. I could—”
“Spare me.” Fallor waved a hand through the air, as though he could wave away her words like a bad smell. “If you so much as make one move against me, your father dies.”
“What?” Vi whispered. The spark stilled, iced over with horror.
“Adela is the pirate queen—do you think she rules by being everywhere at once?” Vi stayed silent, allowing him to continue in whatever way he wanted. “No, she delegates, as any good ruler would. As I’m sure you would understand.”
“Get to your point,” Vi ground out through clenched teeth.
“I know you’re not threatening me, are you?” Fallor looked to Charlie. Charlie leaned against the bar, fumbling with a large hoop earring in his ear. “Because, you see, Charlie here has an imprinted token of Adela’s.”
Vi’s hand went to her watch at the mention of an imprinted token. She knew what that was. It was what had started it all—it was the same as her watch. Though Vi had never seen one made, she knew they could be used to communicate over any distance.
“He’s not the only one.” Fallor’s grin grew wider, verging on the point of mad arrogance. “Each one of my crew has a token. If Charlie so much as thinks you’ll use one bit of magic, he’ll activate it. If he, or I, don’t return in due time, the rest of my crew will activate theirs.”
Each one of his words was like a hook to her flesh—digging in, pulling, peeling, exposing her. They had so quickly put together a plan… none of them had thought for one moment Fallor would have a better one to counter with.
“So, not one more word. Not one bit of fuss for my colleague here,” Fallor commanded as Charlie slowly collected his cards. “You’re going to come calmly onto my vessel, or your father dies. Do you understand?”
Vi bit the insides of her cheeks. She wanted to scream juth at him until her voice was hoarse. She wanted to burn the whole brewery down to ash, them inside. She wanted to sever head from spine with the blade of her scythe.
Maybe Fallor was lying. Maybe she could kill Charlie fast enough that he couldn’t get to Adela. But could she kill Fallor before he flew away? Could she, Taavin and Arwin take him down in the middle of Toris—a town where the majority of the population would stand for Fallor? And even if they could, how long until the pirates aboard Fallor’s ship would raise an alarm?
These were risks Vi couldn’t take—not with her father’s life on the line.
All she could do was nod.
“Good.” Fallor pushed away from the bar, starting for the back door. “Now, remember Vi, your father’s life depends on what you do next.”
More than you know. Because while Fallor had out-planned them, he had also overplayed his hand. Vi knew what she was dealing with. And most importantly, Fallor had just confirmed her father was alive. He was too valuable a bargaining chip for Adela to let him die without gaining something for it.
All Vi had to do now was get out of this.
Chapter Twenty
“Come on, pet.” Charlie grabbed her wrist and tugged. He was stronger than he looked, much stronger, and if Vi didn’t go along she risked having her shoulder popped from its socket.
The moment they were out of the bar he turned, starting for the port. Vi’s eyes scanned the crowd, searching for Taavin or Arwin, but she found neither. The sun was already setting, casting the world in a bloody glow.
“Let’s get to the boat before dark. They say pirates are in this town… we wouldn’t want anything happening to you, now would we?” Charlie gave a laugh at his own joke, carrying on for everyone to hear, knowing full well that even if someone knew what was happening, no one would dare stop one of Adela’s men. “The path is narrow. Don’t try anything funny or you may fall off.”
Charlie pushed her ahead along the narrow way that wound along the cliff-side just above the docks. Vi glanced back over her shoulder. Where were Taavin and Arwin? By now, they were supposed to be following her in some form or fashion, ready to strike against Fallor when the moment presented itself. But if they did so in a way his crew on the ship could see… her father would be dead. Unless Adela was playing games about that, too.
Vi’s hands balled into fists, her nails leaving crescent moons in her palms. She hated this game of cat and mouse. She scanned the skies until she found a large bird soaring on the updrafts off the cliffs. She couldn’t make out its color, but Vi would bet it was ruddy. Fallor was flying high enough to stay in sight of the boat on the other side of the cliffs.
They had barely crested the top of the cliffs. Vi knew from Arwin’s reports that there was a switchback on the other side of the ridge, leading down to a narrow beach. There, a boat was anchored not too far off—a rowboat used to transport men to and from the beach. Vi scanned the plateau; she couldn’t see the vessel, which meant they couldn’t see her—she hoped.
Vi intentionally tripped herself.
She caught the toe of one boot o
n the heel of the other. Her hand raked against the rough wall for support, but she prevented her fingers from catching. Vi allowed herself to fall hard, knee splitting underneath her clothes.
“Get up.” The man took a wide step around her, hand on his earring. “Get up or—”
“I tripped.” Vi looked up at him, pushing herself onto her elbows. “I tripped, that’s all. I’m coming, I promise.” She leaned back onto her heels, rubbing her palms on her pants, trying to stall for every second she could. “Shite… I scraped my knee.” Vi made a show of inspecting the bloody spot on her clothes.
“I don’t give a rat’s arse about your knee. Get up or it’s your dear old father who’s getting his blood spilled.”
Vi put her palms on the ground, tucking her head and trying to sneak a look over her shoulder. Fallor was flying lower—no doubt coming to inspect the disruption. Vi took a slow breath.
“I said—”
Magic crackled through the air. Vi could almost hear on the wind the blessedly beautiful words of loft dorh leaving Taavin’s lips. There was a spark of light, and the eagle seized mid-air.
Vi turned back to Charlie. Fallor may have tried to throw a wrench in their plans, but those plans could still be salvaged. They just had to move very quickly and stay out of sight.
“Get up or—” The pirate never had a chance to finish his sentence.
“Juth calt,” Vi snarled, going right for the heart.
Charlie seized, wide-eyed. He crumpled on the spot, just as Jayme had, blood dripping from his lips. She had vowed to Fallor that she would see Adela’s brood suffer. But Vi found herself beyond caring. There wasn’t time to exercise the dark art of vengeance.
The world was ending and all that truly mattered were results.
The screech of a bird drew her attention. A nightwisp—half the size of the eagle—shot through the sky like a black arrow. Vi watched as it twisted mid-air, wicked sharp talons leading the charge. Before the eagle could fall from the sky, the nightwisp had dug its claws into it, using momentum to pin the eagle against the cliff wall.
Vi turned away from Charlie’s body, keeping herself crouched and praying the men on the boat hadn’t seen their comrade fall. Down the path was Taavin, shifting his stance and readying more words.
“Taavin,” Vi called as loud as she dared—hoping the wind and crash of waves masked whatever of her voice would carry. Taavin looked up to her. “They have imprinted tokens to talk to Adela. If the ship sees a struggle, they’ll have my father murdered!”
His eyes widened, no doubt putting together all Vi had in an instant: they had to move fast and with certainty.
With a pulse of magic, Arwin replaced the bird, landing on the path and sliding back slightly. The dazed eagle shook its head, slowly regaining its footing. When its eyes focused, they were trained on the spear Arwin was pointing at its neck.
“Loft dorh hoolo.” Vi thrust her hand at Fallor right as he was about to take flight. Her glyph surrounded him, stalling him in place.
Even with hoolo, she could feel him wriggling and writhing against her magic. He struggled to break free of her tethers and Vi realized she didn’t know how long she could hold him. Sweat beaded on her brow.
“You’re not leaving.” Arwin ruthlessly stabbed her spear through the bird’s wing. “Free him of your magic.”
Vi did as Arwin bid. This was her kill, her moment of revenge. They didn’t have much time, but they had time enough for this.
Fallor rippled in and out of existence. When he reappeared, his clothes were torn, blood pouring from deep slashes in his chest that Arwin’s talons had made. His arm was pinned to the path, blood pooling around Arwin’s spear.
“Arwie, let’s not—”
“Don’t,” she snarled. Vi would’ve snarled too if a man like Fallor had tried to give her a nickname like Arwie. “If you have any scrap of honor, any trace of the man I loved, you will stay in place and let me gut you from naval to nose.”
“Because you love me, don’t gut me,” he pleaded hastily, holding up a hand. “I-I never wanted to hurt you.”
Arwin slowly tilted her head to the side as Fallor spoke. Vi couldn’t see her expression, but she could see Taavin’s reaction to it. And that was enough for Vi to know it was every bit as venomous as her tone.
“You had a poor way of showing it.”
“Let me fix it. I can fix this,” Fallor continued hastily. “Who would you rather leave here with—me, or the Voice and a foreigner? Adela will pay anything for them. She’ll be indebted to the Twilight Kingdom. She’s a worthy ally to have on your side against the Faithful. With her ships, you could even stand up against the Swords’ armada. Start with the seas, then attack Risen.”
Arwin went very still.
“Arwin…” Taavin started cautiously. There must have been something on her face, if only for a moment, that made him uncertain. But his expression changed in the next instant, as the woman herself no doubt swung on a pendulum of emotions.
Vi watched as Arwin ripped the spear from Fallor’s arm and, in one deft motion, gouged his throat with the blade. The man fell back, took one last gasping, gurgling breath, and died. Vi didn’t feel one drop of pity or remorse. But right now, it didn’t matter what she felt.
It mattered what Arwin did.
“Don’t think this means I like either of you now,” Arwin said softly. “It’s not that I chose you.”
“You had a job to do.” Vi finished the thought.
Arwin slowly turned and gave a nod. That was enough for Vi to count on her for what needed to come next.
“The two left on the ship. If they suspect something is amiss, they’ll contact Adela and she’ll kill my father.” Vi looked to Taavin. “You’ll wear Charlie’s clothes and we’ll ride out on the rowboat. Arwin, you fly in from behind. We strike them both at once, but only when we’re certain we can take them out cleanly. If one survives for even a second, it could be enough time to relay a message.”
A jump off the cliff, followed by a pulse of magic, and a bird rising on the updraft was all the affirmation Vi was going to get from Arwin. But she didn’t need more. Time was of the essence now.
Still, she found herself staring at Fallor for one last, long moment. He was dead. She imprinted his bloody corpse on her memory. He was dead, and he couldn’t come for her again.
Vi turned away, crawled toward Charlie’s body, and began to tug at his clothes. “Taavin, help me, he’s heavy.”
The man appeared across from her, wordlessly helping lift the dead weight to yank off Charlie’s long tunic.
“How did you kill him?” Taavin asked warily.
“Juth calt—I shattered his heart.”
“You what?” he whispered.
“I shattered his heart, maybe his lungs, too.”
“I’ve never heard of calt used that way,” Taavin said warily.
“Well, now you have.” Vi held out the shirt. While she waited for Taavin to take it, she ripped off Charlie’s earring with her other hand and pocketed it. “I’ve had a long road to get here, and I’ve had to improvise along the way. Now, wear this—the sun is getting low and I don’t want to test their patience.”
Taavin yanked off his shirt. It was the first time she’d seen him in such a state of undress. The scar on his face extended down past his collarbone. There were other scars, too. Smaller, fainter, curving and intersecting… almost as if someone had taken a knife and lazily drawn lines across his body time and again until their bloody art left a permanent mark.
No doubt from Ulvarth, she thought darkly
He finished tugging the tunic overhead, bringing her back to the present.
“Good thing pirates are embroiled in shady business.” Vi lifted the hood of the tunic. “Of course they’d have sewn a hood to everything.”
“Vi, you saw—”
“Later.” Vi gave his hand a squeeze, knowing where his mind was. She didn’t have to know the stories behind those markings to know that
it was likely something very few had seen, and that he’d want to keep them hidden. “When we’re on our new boat.”
Taavin gave a small nod as he stood. Vi did as well, taking a step in front of him. She kept her head down, starting on the switchbacks with Taavin close behind.
“Remember, I’m your prisoner. Push on my back a little, make it a good show.”
Taavin did, but the shove was so weak Vi had to intentionally put a stumble into her step. She fought the smallest of smiles. Even acting, he didn’t want to harm or demean her.
Sure enough, there was a rowboat moored on the beach. Just off the shore was a single vessel—narrow and fast looking with one main sail and a secondary. Perfectly hidden from view of the town.
Two silhouettes were drawn against the setting sun, standing at the railing. Vi held up a hand, blinking into the sunlight as they trudged through the sand toward the small skiff. She didn’t see Arwin anywhere.
“Do you see her?” Taavin asked, pushing on the rowboat. He strained against the sand—clearly not a trained deckhand. Vi hoped Fallor’s other crew would assume Charlie drunk.
“No,” Vi murmured. She wanted to help him, but she doubted Charlie would’ve asked for help, so she just stood there, waiting and watching the other two pirates aboard the boat.
“What if she left?”
“She wouldn’t. She still has to disable the shift on the Isle of Frost.” Vi hoped to the Mother above that remained true.
The skiff was in the water and Vi boarded first, Taavin behind her. He took up the oars, pulling them hard through the water and fighting against the waves crashing along the beach. Vi looked at the surf splashing up against the sides, remembering the last time she had been in a rowboat like this.
Then, she had been a prisoner. Now, she held the upper hand.
“When we get close enough that you can be sure to hit your mark… use juth calt,” Vi said under her breath. Taavin looked up at her, panting. “I’ll take the woman, you take the man.”
“I don’t think I can…” Taavin nearly stopped rowing, continuing in an instant. “I’ve never been trained to use it in that way. What if I explode their whole body?”