Blackthorne

by Stina Leicht

  NELS

  ONE

  MERTA

  NEW ELEDORE

  NINTH OF VERIKUU, 1783

  Dizzy and queasy, Nels stumbled a few feet before he collapsed, landing hard on his backside with a wince. Merta’s newly reconstructed dock planks let out a protesting creak. “No more ships. No more ocean travel. Never again.”

  He swallowed what he hoped was the last of his stomach’s protests and tensed against yet another cold blast of wind racing up the river from the sea. It attempted to steal his tricorne, and he snatched it back before it could be lifted out of reach.

  The air was bracing on Merta’s sea-facing river docks. Freezing gusts plunged their way up the river, their force concentrated by the narrow canyon. The valley didn’t widen until it reached Merta, where it slammed into several hundred feet of granite. He’d forgotten the wind. He glanced up at the city nestled against the mountains and spied a lone Eledorean flag slapping the grey sky. A weak smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. He couldn’t fault his troops for their patriotism, but advertising their presence probably wasn’t the best idea, strategically speaking.

  Here’s hoping they’ve made more progress since the last message bird. Before he’d left the Hold, he’d ordered Overlieutenant Larsson to gather most of the troops and meet him at Merta. There were shorter routes to Grandmother Mountain from Norman Island, but a visit to the mines had been the second reason he’d risked his sister’s wrath.

  Always prepare multiple plans. Life is a thimblerig. Never let anyone know which cup holds the pea. He’d not considered before whether or not this policy should include his twin sister. Does she inform me of all of her plots? He already had the answer to that question. Suvi will forgive me. But he knew that would only be the case if the gamble paid off.

  On the other hand, the extra time spent in Captain Julia’s cabin had been an unforeseen bonus.

  Captain Gaia Julia bent next to him and whispered, “I hope I was able to make your journey more comfortable.”

  “Your surgeon’s assistance was much appreciated,” Nels said. As a result, his stomach had been fine until the journey ashore.

  “I wasn’t talking about that aspect of the voyage,” Captain Julia said.

  Nels heard Viktor’s amused snort as he passed. Sebastian Moller was directly behind, carrying the first trunk. His face was set in an expression of determined ignorance. After a sideways glance, he focused once more upon organizing Julia’s crew and unloading the supplies—food and clothing for the troops. Luckily, the Waterborne were still willing to grant Nels a more-than-fair discount.

  Keeping his tone low, Nels said, “It was extremely pleasant and … educational.”

  “Educational?” she asked. “Somehow I expected quite a bit more from that tongue of yours.”

  “I deeply regret that I am operating under a significant disadvantage at the moment.”

  “There is that,” she said.

  His troops were otherwise occupied. So he motioned her closer. “I almost forgot I was on a boat.”

  “And … you ruined it,” she said with a smile. “Good thing for you, Lorelei can’t hear you.”

  “Can’t we meet somewhere on land sometime?”

  “The ports I frequent aren’t ones you’ll want to visit,” she said. Then she got a thoughtful look. “Unless … How often can you sell your friend?”

  “I don’t think Viktor is up for another visit with the Acrasians,” Nels said. “For that matter, neither am I.”

  “Then this is goodbye.” Captain Julia put out a hand to help him up. “You’re the only kainen I’ve ever met to react to water that way.”

  “Aren’t I the lucky one?” Nels asked, took her hand, and got to his feet. Her grip was firm.

  “Everyone adjusts eventually,” Captain Julia said.

  “And I did,” he said. “Eventually. Thanks for being patient with me.”

  Captain Julia gazed off into the distance, and he caught a flash of something in her eyes that he would never have expected to see. Vulnerability. He found it as attractive as he had her tough exterior.

  She asked, “You’ll be careful?”

  He moved closer. The top of her head reached his chest. With a smile, he whispered, “Permission to board?”

  She tilted her chin up, raised an eyebrow, and just like that, her defenses shifted back into place. “Permission granted.”

  Stooping, he gave her the best kiss he could manage in spite of his twitchy stomach. Wrapping her gently in his arms, he pulled her close. Her full lips were moist and yielding, and her tongue brushed against his. She tasted of the apples and cinnamon they’d had for breakfast. It wasn’t unpleasant.

  Julia’s crew is watching and so are Viktor and Sebastian. Nels prepared to let her go.

  At that moment, she grabbed his buttocks and pressed herself against his burgeoning cockstand, and all at once, he forgot about possible witnesses.

  Oh, gods.

  After what seemed like an instant but was probably far longer, she broke the kiss and left him gasping. Her voice was so low it was almost a purr. “Too bad there’s no time for another good, long docking.” She winked. “Call me Gaia.”

  His heart thundered in his ears, as loud as a herd of runaway horses. Images from the past week seared his veins. For a moment, he couldn’t speak. He cleared his throat. “Not if you want payment before the tide turns, Gaia.”

  She paused, confused. “Didn’t you already spend all you had on those supplies?”

  Half-turning from her, he motioned to the remains of the city behind him. “Before the war, this land was to be mine. And in the time of my father, Merta was famous for one thing.”

  “And what was that?”

  “Silver mines,” Nels said.

  “Ah.” One side of her mouth curled up in a wicked smile. “In that case, I would give the matter longer consideration,” she said. “But in all fairness, I must choose your money. There isn’t enough time for you to service my whole crew, even if you were so inclined.”

  “You do have a point.”

  She laid a hand on the front of his shirt, gathering the fabric in her fist. “May I have another kiss on account?”

  “I suppose that—”

  She yanked him tight against her by his shirt, the second embrace even more energetic than the first. He’d lost track of time when a polite cough brought him up for air.

  “Sir?” Viktor asked.

  “Yes?” Nels answered, not moving from Gaia lest Viktor see how much she’d affected him.

  “Overlieutenant Larsson would like to make a report,” Viktor said. “She’s waiting at the gate.”

  “Were they successful?” Nels asked.

  “Based upon her grin, I believe the answer to that question is yes,” Viktor said.

  Nels tried not to show his relief. “All right, tell her I’m on my way.”

  “Yes, sir,” Viktor said.

  Nels tugged his greatcoat closed and gave Gaia the crook of his elbow. “Shall we go see what Merta has on offer?”

  She slipped her arm through his. “I believe we shall.”

  Making his way up the mountain slope, Nels noticed that the roadway leading to the city bore evidence of the Acrasian Army’s futile attempts to open Merta’s gates before those inside had sabotaged the mines. It’d rained before the battle. Heavy artillery wheels had plowed ruts into the hard-packed earth. Large sections of the city’s outer and inner curtain walls had been pounded into rubble by the Acrasians’ new, more mobile cannon. More than two years had passed since he’d last set foot anywhere near Merta. He hadn’t been looking forward to it. Memories of death, destruction, and betrayal weighted the air, as thick as cannon smoke. He could almost hear the screams of the dying as he mounted the last few steps to the outer gatehouse. He kept his back to the former battlefield. Yet his nose captured the faint scent of burnt gunpowder long past. He wasn’t entirely sure it wasn’t his imagination. The city was empty and had been for
some time. Merta, once the Kingdom of Eledore’s second most prosperous city, was a ruin like the rest, but there were signs of new life. The smell of fresh-cut ironwood overwhelmed his memories when he reached the castle’s newly replaced wooden doors.

  Overlieutenant Larsson waited for him in the shadows cast by the portcullis. She stepped forward and snapped to attention, her dark young face set in a professional soldier’s mask.

  I don’t think anyone who knew her before would recognize her now. She’s changed a great deal, he thought. But then, haven’t we all?

  Larsson said, “Merta is ready for inspection, sir. The barracks repairs are complete, and we’ve started work on the outer walls.”

  Nels returned her salute. “At ease.” He readied himself for her answer. “And Jarvi? How far was he able to get?”

  Relaxing, she grinned. “The tunnel leading to the first mine shaft is cleared. In truth, the Acrasians did half the work for us. Sergeant Wiberg has a surprise for you.”

  “Is that so?”

  “We stored it in the inner gatehouse great hall.” She indicated where with an over-the-shoulder nod. Then her expression grew more serious. “That’s the good news. Now for the bad. If the records are accurate—and none of us would know for sure, since we’re not miners—the first tunnel is at the end of its usefulness. It’s the second shaft that’s the active one. It’s also the problem.”

  “What is wrong with the second shaft?”

  “It’s set to blow, should it be tampered with. We expected that. But somebody got clever,” she said. “Jarvi says the trap contains a long series of complicated triggers. Amazingly, the Acrasians were smart enough to leave it alone.”

  Gaia cleared her throat.

  Larsson continued as if she hadn’t heard. “Jarvi says if he knew who sabotaged it or even if we had anyone who understood mining, it’d make removing or working around the thing easier. However, we don’t. So the dismantling process is going to take some time.”

  Shit. Shit. Shit. “How much time?”

  “A few months. Maybe more. Certainly not before winter. He says we may have to abandon the tunnel and dig a new shaft.”

  Nels frowned. He muttered more to himself than to Larsson: “We’re not wintering here.”

  “Well … that’s one of the things Jarvi wants to talk to you about, sir.”

  “Fair enough. Where is he?”

  “In shaft two, working. He’s been at it day and night since we arrived,” she said. “That is why I’m giving the report and not him.”

  “Without rest?” Nels asked. “Isn’t that a little dangerous?”

  She shrugged. “Master Sergeant Tane Jarvi isn’t someone I argue with. I know better.”

  “And Wiberg?” Nels asked.

  “He’s upstairs,” Larsson said. “I recommend talking to him as soon as possible.”

  “All right,” Nels said. “Have Jarvi meet me in the gatehouse great hall. Immediately. I’ll be there shortly.”

  “Yes, sir,” Larsson said. She saluted, turned, and left.

  “Gaia,” Nels said. “Follow me. I suspect there may be something in the inner gatehouse relevant to your interests.”

  “If you say so,” Gaia said.

  He led her through the huge double oak doors, under both portcullises, and inside the outer curtain. There they entered the outer ward and then the second gatehouse, with its set of new doors and portcullises. Once they were inside the inner ward, he turned to the left and took the stone steps up to the inner gatehouse’s great hall. Along the way, the rasp, clatter, and thump of construction echoed inside Merta’s walls. Troops repaired the barracks, groomed and exercised the horses, and otherwise prepared for the journey to the Hold. Upon reaching the gatehouse great hall, Nels laid a hand on the ornate iron door handle and gave it a twist.

  Wiberg, seated behind a writing table laden with treasure, dropped the quill in his hand, jumped to his feet, and saluted. The corps healer was shorter than Nels but taller than Gaia and Larsson. His hair was light brown, and his brown eyes sparkled with happiness. “Good afternoon, sir.”

  Gaia took in the contents of the big room and choked.

  Nels felt his jaw drop open. “Oh.”

  “I suspect all this is going to come in handy,” Wiberg said.

  Nels said, “Where did you find—”

  “The citizens hid everything they couldn’t carry and wanted to save from the Acrasians in the first tunnel, bless them,” Wiberg said. “I had all the most valuable items stored up here. Lieutenant Larsson thought it best, considering.”

  Stepping to the writing desk, Nels stuck his hand inside a small chest filled with gems and jewelry. Sacks of silver coins lined the walls, along with various items made of gold. He didn’t remember seeing anything like it outside his father’s treasury since long before the war. He finally remembered to return the salute. “Good work.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Wiberg said.

  “Captain Julia, I believe we can now discuss the second half of your payment,” Nels said.

  Gaia gave out a low whistle. “Don’t take this personally, but I made the right choice.”

  “I thought as much,” Nels said.

  Someone knocking drew his attention away from the treasure. A dirt-smudged and weary-looking Master Sergeant Tane Jarvi entered the room.

  “Welcome back, sir,” Jarvi said.

  “Thank you,” Nels said, and then motioned to the contents of the room. “You all have been busy, I see.”

  “Yes, sir,” Jarvi said. “Unfortunately, the other mine shafts have been less profitable.”

  Nels said, “As it is, this is more than what I’d hoped for.”

  Jarvi nodded. “About that—”

  “You want to stay. I can’t let you,” Nels said. “I need you with me.”

  “You can’t leave Merta unattended. There is no knowing if or when the Acrasians will return. That’s a gamble we can’t afford to take,” Jarvi said. “Also, there is no way we can transport all this back to the Hold. Not without risking unwanted attention.”

  “You’ve a point,” Nels said, and paused. “And once the walls are repaired, how many troops do you think we’ll need to leave behind to effectively guard Merta?”

  “In order to continue the work in the tunnels—”

  “We don’t have anyone qualified to work the mines,” Nels said. “Not yet. I’ll talk to Slate about … acquiring someone with the necessary experience.”

  “Good,” Jarvi said.

  “I intend to leave only enough troops behind to hold Merta,” Nels said. “How many?”

  “Once the walls are finished?” Jarvi asked.

  Nels said, “You were artillery. You’d know.”

  “Half a company,” Jarvi said.

  “Leaving me with the other half to protect what we take with us.” Nels gave the situation some thought. “Should work. Send for Larsson. It’s time to pack.”

  TWO

  SOMEWHERE SOUTHEAST OF MERTA

  FORMER KINGDOM OF ELEDORE

  TWELFTH OF VERIKUU, 1783

  Nels woke to a gentle kick in the side.

  “Get up, sir,” Viktor said. “We’re about to have company.”

  Nels sat up and took in his surroundings. The ground beneath his folding camp cot was damp, and outside his dog tent, it was dark and raining. During the time he’d been asleep, the temperature had plummeted. It was cold, bordering upon freezing. At least there isn’t much wind, he thought. Reaching for his trousers, he already had a bad feeling regarding his day. “It isn’t morning, and I haven’t had my coffee yet. Tell me, who has come to visit?”

  “Remember that Acrasian outpost we passed yesterday?” Viktor asked. “They’re sending troops our way.”

  “They didn’t know we were here. We made very certain of this before we camped, did we not? So, why are the nice Acrasians not sleeping?”

  A guilty look passed over Viktor’s face. “It may have to do with the matter of a few missi
ng cattle.”

  “Damn it,” Nels said, moving faster than before. Who needs coffee when you’ve news like this to wake to? “We have with us enough money to buy our supplies from the Waterborne for the next three years. We don’t have to steal.” Maybe not ever, if we get that mine working.

  “Where’s the fun in that?” Viktor asked.

  “Getting home in one piece with our money?”

  “Honestly, the longer you remain in charge, the more dreary you become.”

  “Being responsible for a few hundred lives will do that to you.” Nels rushed to finish dressing while Corporal Mustonen began packing.

  “Don’t you have fun anymore?” Viktor asked.

  “Being chased through half the countryside in the rain isn’t my idea of fun,” Nels said. “It never was.”

  Viktor said, “Well, you can’t blame me for this one.”

  “It wasn’t you?” Nels asked.

  “If it had been, I’d have been a swiving lot quieter about it. Also, I’d have passed it by you first,” Viktor said. “You know this, right?”

  “Maybe,” Nels said.

  Viktor gave him a hurt look filled with imaginary indignation.

  “All right, all right. Whose brilliant idea was it, then?” Nels asked. His fingers were stiff with cold, making the buttons on his jacket a bit of a challenge.

  “I can’t say, exactly,” Viktor said, helping with his overcoat. “But Groop, Kurri, and Lassila went for a late-night stroll about two hours ago and came back with ten new friends.”

  Outside his tent, Nels could hear the hushed sounds of the camp being rousted out on the quiet. He also thought he heard the calls of anxious cattle.

  “That’s just swiving fantastic,” Nels said. “Remind me to have a chat with Groop, Kurri, and Lassila later.”

  “Yes, sir,” Viktor said, stepping outside and holding open the tent flap for him.

  Nels crammed his tricorne onto his head. The camp was a soggy sketch in organized chaos. Private Nyberg ducked into the tent behind him—Nels assumed, to help Mustonen.

  Nels asked, “Where’s Moller?”