by Kim Allred
"You kept it in fine condition." He ran a finger along its single edge. "It could be sharper." He reached for the whetstone. He repositioned his seating, and AJ edged closer to watch. After a few swipes of blade against stone, he handed both to her.
AJ rolled up her shirt sleeves and settled the knife against the stone. She glanced up, and when he nodded, she went to work, studiously altering the position of the stone when Lando suggested changes to her technique. When she slid the dagger in her pocket, he stood and pulled her up so quickly she almost flew into his arms. They laughed as they walked a few steps before Lando turned her toward the wall of the forecastle.
"Let me see your blade stick."
Nerves ran along her spine as she dug in her pocket for the dagger. She'd become comfortable with Finn and Ethan's watchful gaze, but Lando made her squirm. She didn't understand why his opinion held more importance than Finn's but assumed it was because Lando had been her first instructor. She wanted to make him proud.
She steadied herself and widened her stance. The ship rolled beneath her. She acclimated to its movements as she relaxed her shoulders and blew out long breaths. She aimed and released the dagger in a single movement. The blade stuck a few inches left of the rigging.
Lando grunted. "And where were you aiming?"
She grinned. "A few inches to the right."
He beamed. "You've been practicing."
She shrugged and shared a devious smile. "You should see me with a bow."
In the shadows, several yards from AJ and Lando, Beckworth rested against the bulwark. He'd talked the captain into allowing him time on deck, and the men had graciously bound him to the rigging. He'd be there until they made port.
He couldn't take his eyes off AJ. She listened to Lando after each throw of the blade, then made the appropriate adjustments with immediate results. If her suggestion that she was better with the bow had any truth to it, she'd become more deadly than he imagined. She might prove useful after all if he could mold the conditions to his favor. He rubbed his shoulder. Assuming she didn't find a reason to stick him with that blade again, though she never seemed to require a reason to do that.
This next stage of their journey would be interesting. He almost wished Maire was at Waverly. It would be like old times with the three of them at his dining table again.
15
Ethan tossed the thick stack of blankets aside, then braced for the chill of the room. Sleep had been impossible, and he doubted he'd get a decent night of rest until he reached England. He had a bad feeling about this Valentin, but their choices were limited. He'd understood AJ's unwillingness to wait another two months for Jamie's return. Time pressed in, and with little to do but wait, his impatience grew.
After lighting the lantern, he dressed and checked his bag, though he'd repacked twice before he'd gone to bed. He sat and stared at the shadows that played against the wall. Unable to resist, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the frayed letter. He'd kept it close since he'd received it several months ago. It was the last letter he had from Maire.
She'd been in Peterstow for less than a day and had quickly found the person she'd left Hereford to meet. He held the letter close to the light, mesmerized by her delicate handwriting, so clear and precise. She could have been a scholar had she lived in a different age. She spoke of working at the Trinity Library in Dublin, but Ethan doubted she would be happy there. As a woman, she'd be nothing more than a housemaid—able to look at the books but never touch.
He laid the page on the table, scared to hold it too long. Maire had instructed him how to handle the delicate pages of The Book of Stones without damaging it. Her letter wouldn't be considered sacred to anyone else, but to him, they might be the last words he'd ever have from her.
He read past her normal opening, her apology for leaving without telling him her true intentions, and her strength of conviction that she was on the right path. When he reached the last few paragraphs, he ran a hand through his hair, his breath hitching as he read.
"I spoke to the young girl, her name is Hannah. She's no more than fifteen, yet on her own, though she's found a good family that owns the apothecary here. At least I didn't completely lie before I left. The merchant has several herbs that would benefit the earl's stores. I've purchased a few samples to bring back with me."
He reread the last line several times. She planned to return to Hereford. It was the one light that kept him going. He cleared his throat and kept reading.
"Hannah had been terrified when I mentioned Waverly. I thought it might require days to convince her to talk to me. Yet, even through her fear, she shared her story. In the end, she had little to tell me. She was a housemaid, working mostly in the kitchen. On occasion, she cleaned the hearths. It was during one of her cleanings that she overheard two men talking about something called The Mórdha Stone Grimoire. She asked the cook about it, and before she knew it, another servant had packed her belongings. The cook told her she had to leave for her own safety. Before leaving, Hannah confided in Ella, the young woman who'd been my lady's maid while I was at Waverly. Hannah left for Peterstow the next day and moved in as a maid with the local apothecary.
"When Ella wrote, I tried to ignore it. The duke was dead. Beckworth had disappeared into the mist, and the Heart Stone was with AJ somewhere in the future. All should be well. Yet her words haunted me. We know the Mórdha Stone was what The Book of Stones called the Heart Stone. We also know the druid book is out there. What if this grimoire is what we've been searching for?
"Here's the part that troubles me. It's silly of me to be writing this letter at all when I plan to leave soon. When I pressed Hannah for who she thought she'd overheard in the east wing, she insisted it had been the viscount and his bodyguard. The whole house had confirmed the viscount had returned. How could that be, Ethan? We saw the fog take him. What does this mean for Finn and AJ? I need your help, my love. I don't think this is over."
Ethan bent his head, his eyes misting over his loss of Maire and the weight of lies he'd sown with AJ and Finn. He should have told them straight away about Maire's letter. If Maire hadn't given the letter to a guard before her last visit to the apothecary, Ethan would never have known what happened. Yet, by the time he arrived at Waverly with Thomas and the earl's men, there had been no sign of Maire or the viscount.
His first thought had been to lay it all out for Finn. He hoped Finn would see something he missed. When Ethan had learned Beckworth was in the future, everything Maire had written became suspect. Had Hannah been a ruse? The girl had seemingly disappeared as quickly as Maire had.
He folded the letter and returned it to his pocket. He almost laughed when he thought about the secrets Finn and AJ had each kept. Even Adam had kept his gambling debt from others. Everyone tried to protect someone they loved through lies. And now the secrets had come full circle. He'd wait until they reached England, tell Finn everything, then take the right cross he justly deserved, assuming Finn didn't run him through with his blade.
He picked up his duffel, blew out the lantern, and raced down the tunnel to reach the warmth and light of the kitchen fires. Sebastian and Finn sat at a table, their heads bowed in deep conversation, mugs of coffee steaming in front of them.
"It appears you couldn't sleep either." Finn's smile ate at Ethan's gut, but he gave Finn a slight grin as he turned to search for a mug.
"I wanted to make sure we don't miss the ship."
"I've arranged for Luis to take you to town. I think it best I not be seen with you." Sebastian sat back and scratched his head. "I wish I had more information to help you." He glanced around the kitchen. "Cook, where are you? We need another bowl of porridge and some meat for Ethan."
"I think you've done more than enough by giving us shelter and ensuring AJ's safety." Ethan sat with his mug and nodded to the cook when she dropped a bowl and small plate of meat, cheese, and bread in front of him.
He ate quickly, and when done, Sebastian walked them to the courtyar
d.
Ethan tossed his duffel in the cart after Finn's, then climbed into the back with the bags. Before Finn joined Luis on the bench seat, Sebastian rested a hand on his arm.
"I'll review the translations from the book once again. If I find anything that we've overlooked, I'll forward it to the earl with one of the next ships. Godspeed in your journey, but I have faith you'll find both women."
The monk's last words revived Ethan's spirits, but when Luis dropped them at the outskirts of town, his previous concerns about the ship's captain returned.
Finn glanced around, slung a duffel onto each of his shoulders, then turned to Ethan, his voice terse. "Let's hurry." Then he broke out in a quick jog toward a back alley.
Ethan kept his eyes open for early morning patrols and hoped Finn's heightened apprehension had nothing to do with mistrust of the captain. They moved like ghosts in the early morning hours. Finn kept the pace as he ducked down alleys and made a detour toward their destination. Whether Finn was concerned about being followed or had seen someone, Ethan didn't ask.
Even with the circuitous route, they arrived at the smithy within ten minutes. Finn ducked behind a row of barrels near a building across from the smithy. "We wait here."
Ethan crouched next to him, both of them facing the street as they searched the darkness for movement. "How long do we wait?"
"Until they find us."
Those were the last words Ethan heard as something hit him in the back of the head.
16
AJ stood on the bow of the Daphne Marie as the crew guided the ship into the cozy port of Poole, some distance from Southampton. The last part of the voyage into this small village had been uneventful. It seemed once past the main fleet of the Royal Navy, few ships patrolled the shores this far west. Strong memories assailed her from the last time she'd sailed into England on this very ship. Finn had been with her. She reached into the pocket of her pants and squeezed the necklace that held the Heart Stone and her wedding ring. Instead of tears, a powerful resolve settled over her.
He was out there somewhere. She could almost feel him drawing nearer.
She turned her focus back to the task at hand. During the last hours of the sail, AJ had practiced different holding positions with her dagger, using both her right and left hands. The evening before, when she'd practiced with Lando, learning to use the weaker side of her body, she'd kept an eye on Beckworth. He'd been conveniently tied to the rigging in plain sight of her and Lando.
When throwing with her weaker left arm, her aim went to hell. By the end of the first short session, she'd improved her distance. She continued to work on her aim during their journey north. Whenever she returned to her resting spot, she found Beckworth watching her, a touch of something in his gaze she thought might be admiration. Unwilling to participate in whatever game he might be playing, she responded with a cold smile. She always made sure to face him when she sharpened her dagger, and whenever she glanced his way, he turned his head. First step of intimidation accomplished.
Once the ship was moored, AJ waited for the men to remove the cargo before she picked up her canvas bag and backpack to disembark. Before leaving the ship, she glanced back along the deck of the Daphne Marie then up to her sails. The last time she'd left the ship, she hadn't thought she'd see it again. The ship wasn't the same without Finn. Then she turned to the sleepy town of Poole. It was nothing like the busy Southampton port. One other ship rested on the opposite dock, its sails stowed, only a handful of men on board. Carts and people moved about, but there seemed to be no hurry to get where they were going. The town smelled of the briny air and wood smoke from the chimneys.
AJ sucked in a lungful of that scent, held it for a count of ten, then blew it out as she descended to the dock. Lando was waiting for her and guided her to the single inn. It was only mid-morning, but her stomach grumbled when they entered the establishment. Fresh-baked bread and cooked meat made her eyes water and gained another growl from her belly.
A young woman, her hair tied back in a long braid of raven-colored hair, stopped in front of them, sharing a pleasant, if distracted, smile. She offered a bowl of stew along with a plate of bread and cheese. AJ nodded enthusiastically and almost sighed with pleasure when a mug of ale followed the plate.
AJ turned an eye to Lando. "Aren't you eating?"
He shook his head. "I took an extra ration at breakfast since we'll be restocking the stores."
She closed her eyes as she chewed the beef from the stew. The warm meal was a delight after two days on limited rations and hardtack on the ship. The men would be well fed once they finished their final chores and were released for a day of shore leave. She nibbled at the cheese and studied Lando, whose gaze swung to the door each time it opened. "I would think Jamie could use your help."
"I'm doing my job." He glanced away, watching a gruff man leave the bar and stumble to the door.
"I thought we'd been through this. If you can't trust me to be safe sitting at an inn, a mere two hundred yards from Jamie's crew, what are you going to do when I leave town and you go back to the ship?"
Lando crossed his arms and said nothing.
She chewed her bread and followed it with her ale before returning to the stew. "I could use your help with something else."
After a moment, he finally turned an eye toward her.
"I need two good horses with stamina for long days." When he didn't comment, she reached into her pocket and placed a small bag of coin on the table. "And I'll need a well-balanced bow and a full quiver."
With that, he lifted a brow. He watched her eat her meal, scratched his ear, then mumbled something that sounded like a curse before stalking out.
17
The gentle sway and creaking of boards forced a smile from Finn. He nestled deeper into the warmth of canvas as the smell of sea, old wood, and oil tickled his nose. An old longing of wind filling sails and the chatter of seabirds as they chased the Daphne Maire out of port filled his sense of adventure. His inane curiosity of not knowing what lay ahead quickly morphed into a sense of urgency. A great loss pitted his stomach and jangled his nerves.
He slowly raised to consciousness, and a blast of pain stabbed his head as he pried his eyes open to nothing more than a slit. When he moved his legs, they hit a hard wall. Something poked at his side before he remembered his ribs. A deep ache from where they'd been battered by fists soon followed.
After the pain subsided, he opened his eyes again to a dim light from a lantern swinging in rhythm with the ship. Even if he'd been blindfolded, he'd have recognized the pitch of a ship as it matched the roll of the waves. He stretched his body, performing a physical inventory. Other than the stitch in his side and the ache in his head, he was whole. When he tested the spot where his head hurt, he felt a slight bump. Then he noticed the hooded, silver gaze, filled with anger, following his movements.
At least he wasn't alone. He cleared his dry throat before whispering, "It appears we made it on the ship."
"Perhaps you should have been clearer on the accommodations." Ethan's tone matched his angry stare.
Finn untangled himself from the old sail that had covered him and gingerly pushed himself to a sitting position. Ignoring Ethan for the moment, he scanned the area. They were in a massive iron cage within a cargo hold. Based on the bulkhead and height of the ceiling, he guessed somewhere in the aft of the ship. Whether it was Valentin's ship, he couldn't say, but they would know soon enough. Crates and sacks of unknown inventory filled the room. Several narrow paths curved out of sight between the crates and into the darkness. Finn presumed they led to the door of an inner passageway since he couldn't see a ladder or opening to the upper deck.
When he noticed smells, his nose wrinkled in distaste at the odd mix of foreign spices and something wickedly foul. Inside their cage, most of the space was taken by short stacks of crates and bags of flour and grain. There was a narrow six-foot aisle to stand or pace. Once he settled back against a stack of grain sacks, he
took stock of Ethan.
The man didn't look any worse for wear, though his squinting gaze spoke of more than anger. Finn assumed Ethan suffered from a matching lump on his head. An old sheet of canvas wrapped around Ethan's feet, and he sat on his own stack of bags. Finn let him glower as he took in the rest of their cell. A tin sat on top of a crate in one corner, and a crate in the opposite corner held a jug with two mugs. Water and place to piss. He'd laugh if he could confirm which ship they were on. Nothing about this jump had been simple.
He turned his attention to Ethan. "Have you seen anyone?"
Ethan shook his head. So it was going to be like that. Finn had gotten them on a ship. It could be worse.
"Are you going to pout the entire way to England?" Finn rolled his neck, and after a short snap, his head felt better. "Someone will bring us food. Eventually."
"Why do I feel more like a prisoner than a guest?" Ethan's question wasn't far from Finn's own thoughts.
If this was Valentin's ship, why were they stuffed into a hold? Something the captain had mentioned at the inn scraped at Finn's memory, but he couldn't put his finger on it. He'd have to wait until his head cleared.
"Until we know more of the situation, we could speculate the entire journey. And while we clearly need to consider our situation, can it wait until my head stops spinning?" Finn slid from his perch and tested his legs. They immediately registered the movement of the ship, and his body fell into rhythm with a natural sense of being one with a ship. He doubted that instant connection would ever leave him after years of walking decks.
He picked up the jug. It was full. He poured liquid into one of the mugs, sniffed, swirled the water, then tossed it onto the floor outside the cell. He filled the mug and offered it to Ethan, who accepted it with a slight nod. After pouring another mug for himself, Finn returned to his seat.