War and Wind: TIDES Book 2

by Alex Lidell

  “Mr. Kederic,” Domenic says with a raised brow, “we are filling ship’s boats with marines in the dead of night with the intent of absconding from a naval frigate and pressing a civilian vessel into military service. Your claim of something wrong requires greater precision to have any meaning whatsoever.”

  Kederic swallows, looking between Domenic and me as if deciding who to report to. He finally settles on a spot right between us. “The Hope was closing on us much faster than warranted. At first I attributed it to a fear of being left behind when the Aurora came onto her eastern course, and then I thought the darkness was playing games with me, but…”

  “But it still looks closer than it should?” I finish for him, and the boy nods. I turn to Domenic. “I imagine the Hope’s skipper intends to come alongside at first light to demand the reason for the course change. How much longer until we are ready to cast off? I little wish to be bow to bow with our intended prize when the sun rises.”

  “Thirty minutes.” Domenic comes to his feet. “I’ll see if I can cut that further and will send Catsper down to collect you.”

  “Very good.”

  Kederic returns to deck, and Domenic follows, but I catch his hand. There is no time for this, but there never is. Some things are just important. “Together,” I whisper to him. “We are doing this together.”

  He smiles at me, running his knuckles over my face. “Aye, Ash. We are.”

  I shake my head. “I don’t believe there is a Nile Ash anymore. That experiment ended in rather spectacular failure.”

  He chuckles. “There never was. You make a rather awful common seaman, Nile.”

  “Well, I’m not much of a princess either.”

  Domenic takes my face in his hands. “You shaped our young gentlemen into officers while you were scrubbing decks. You’ve faced injustices of ill fate and worse orders—and yet stayed loyal to the mission. You’ve reminded me of the navy beyond Captain Rima’s petty whims. Whatever title you sail under, Nile, you have the heart and mind of an admiral. And I will follow you into any storm.”

  A warmth spreads from my heart, enveloping me in its embrace. I look into Domenic’s eyes and feel the togetherness of us rising in synergy. He steps closer, letting his hand roam from my face to my shoulder to—

  My body recoils. Slightly, but enough that Domenic notices. Too many sensations, from soft and intimate to humiliating and painful, explode together through my veins. More than I can handle just now. “I’m sorry,” I whisper.

  “You’ve been through a great deal,” he says softly. “There will be time later.” He presses his forehead against mine, offering touch without restraint or pressure, offering his strength to feed my own.

  I allow myself a moment to close my eyes and breathe.

  “Captain on deck!” The shout from up above is so loud, it penetrates the Aurora’s planks. As it is meant to.

  Domenic and I spring apart. Rima is sleeping. Should be sleeping. As he always does at night.

  “Stay here,” Domenic hisses, rushing to the companionway. “I’ll try to talk him back into bed.”

  I’ve no chance to respond before Domenic is gone and Catsper swings himself into the hold, not bothering with the ladder at all. He tosses a Spade uniform jacket into my arms and waits for me to throw it over my shirt before pointing to a spot behind him. The humor is wiped from the marine’s face, and he moves like a warrior over field of battle. “The marines and weapons are in the boats, under cover of sailing cloth and darkness,” he says curtly. “Kederic is having a boat lowered and the crews are standing by.”

  I follow in Catsper’s wake, keeping my head down as I walk. The voices on deck grow louder as we approach, and I can discern Domenic’s stoic tones amidst the Eflian cackles.

  “Mr. Johina informs me that the Hope is bearing down on us, Commander Dana.” Rima sounds much more awake than I wish. “Explain yourself, if you please?”

  “Aye, sir.” Domenic sounds bored. “The merchie fell behind when we first changed course and has been struggling to catch up since. I expect they fear losing sight of us in the darkness. I saw no reason to wake you over such a nuisance.”

  Emerging on deck, I start forward toward the boat, skirting the quarterdeck with as wide a berth as the ship’s confines allow. The weak light bounces off a pair of pistols Rima has tucked into his waist. I dare a glance at the Hope’s approaching lantern and frown. She is coming much more quickly than I thought the merchant capable of. Ahead of me, shapes in the shadows stand frozen in mid-movement, afraid of attracting attention. My pulse gallops.

  “I’ve one boat streaming alongside us,” Kederic whispers once we are upon him. “But I dare not move the other right now.”

  I nod and motion for silence, listening to the conversation on the quarterdeck. Come on, Domenic. Make him leave.

  “And what is the drag on the ship?” Rima’s voice asks. “Is that a boat in the water?”

  My stomach drops.

  “It most certainly is, sir,” Domenic says smoothly. “Mr. Catsper’s marines are doing a drill. I expect the second boat to be lowered any time now.”

  Exhaling slowly, I nod to Kederic who quickly puts the men into motion doing just that.

  “Belay that, Mr. Dana!” Rima’s voice rises. “This isn’t time for children’s games. I want those boats back at once.”

  “But, sir,” Domenic starts, spinning a complex tale of the marine’s training plan. Buying us time.

  We hurry, swinging the second boat over the Aurora’s side.

  “That is enough, Mr. Dana!” Rima snaps as the boat settles into the sea. “We will have these boats up now. And then the Aurora shall fire a warning shot across that merchant’s bow, before the bloody ship crashes into our hull.”

  “Of course, sir,” says Domenic.

  The remaining marines and crew slip over the side. All we need now are Catsper, Domenic, and me.

  “Mr. Johina,” Rima calls. “Get things sorted, if you please.”

  Footsteps and a lantern hurry toward us from the quarterdeck. “Pull that boat up, you lubbers!”

  Catsper steps in front of me, pushing me toward the rail, but the Eflian’s light is faster than I am.

  “Sir! It’s the prisoner!” Johina shouts, rushing forward toward me. “She’s going for the boat!”

  Catsper’s elbow slams into the Eflian’s jaw.

  I grab on to the rail and swing myself down toward the boat, heedless of the height.

  Catsper lands beside me in one smooth motion and turns to Kederic. “Cast off,” he tells the middie.

  “No.” My voice catches. “We wait for Domenic.”

  “Cast off,” Catsper repeats.

  I lunge for the rope Kederic is untying, but the marine grabs me and pins me in place, covering my body with his own. A pistol shot sounds on the Aurora. In its flash of light, I see Domenic holding fast to Rima’s arm, the captain’s smoking pistol pointing to the sky. Rima is doubled over as if he’d been struck.

  Johina and Mic swarm toward the pair.

  “Domenic!” I shout. But it’s too late. Domenic’s large silhouette falls to its knees as the Eflians punch and kick it. The sea between us widens with each stroke of the oars. My heart constricts into a horrified fist as I struggle against Catsper. “We can’t leave him.”

  “Enough, Ash.” Catsper shifts so his face is inches from mine. His eyes are hard and his nostrils flare as he forces quiet words into the void between us. “You have a war to fight. So you will bloody well pull yourself together and fight it.”

  I swallow. Grief and shock thread through my veins.

  “He’s alive,” Catsper snarls.

  “He won’t be soon. He assaulted a ship’s captain.”

  Catsper shakes my shoulders. Hard. “Worry about a court-martial if we ever get there.”

  My gaze shifts to his, and a decade of training finally takes hold of my mind. I have a ship to take, a juncture to hold, and dozens of people to lead. I owe them a
ll of me. I draw breath.

  “Let go of me, Mr. Catsper,” I say, my voice the emotionless cool that everyone, myself included, expects from me. “And carry on, if you please.”

  The gentle splash of the oars cutting the darkness of the sea is all-powerful in the moonless night. We carry no lantern, and the marines make less noise than swaying leaves. The boat rises and falls minutely as it cuts the waves in harmony to the lapping sounds of the water.

  The boats are fuller than I’d expected. In addition to the marines and Kederic, I find Price sitting beside me and at least a dozen of the Aurora’s seamen, including two women. But not Domenic. I push the thought away and stare into the dark night. The Hope carries lights, but it is hard to judge distance in the darkness. Beside me, Price clears his throat and Kederic grabs his wrist tight in warning to keep the silence.

  Price points to the Hope’s lantern, which jumps and sways more than the calm sea warrants. I wonder if she is carrying livestock. It would explain the extra jerking and the unusual hold build. I blow a heavy breath from my nose. There is a good chance the ship will sink before we are through with her and I don’t want the animals to suffer for it. We’ll have to slaughter them if there is no chance of getting them ashore before battle. Storms and hail. As if there wasn’t enough to worry about.

  “Hold oars,” I whisper.

  The rowing stops at once, and I close my eyes to listen. All is quiet. Too quiet. The sounds of a ship underway skip over the water, but I hear no chatter of men on watch or officers calling orders. The Hope is running silent. A clanking that sounds like the scrape of metal reaches me and Catsper at the same time.

  Weapons? the marine mouths to me, his brow lifted in question.

  My brows tense. The combination of sounds and the Hope’s sudden efficiency sit ill with the vision of the helpless merchant we’ve escorted through the Siaman Sea.

  “Pass the word to the coxswain to bring us along the Hope’s intended path,” I whisper. “Use the oars as little as possible. We wait until she comes to us and pounce from the shadows.” I pause, bracing myself for the next order, one that is bound to kill people that might otherwise be spared. “Mr. Catsper, run the assault as if you are taking a hostile vessel, not intimidating a civilian craft into compliance.”

  The marine nods once and whistles a bird’s tune that’s quickly returned from the other boat. The boys’ calm movements send a shiver down my back. We sit still for the next quarter hour, waiting for our prey, and slide our oars gently into the water to vie for the final approach. Somewhere in the darkness, the second boat of marines maneuvers silently, pulling up beside us as quietly as a cat.

  The cutter shifts as Catsper rises, touching his marines to get their attention. My hand drops to the hilt of my own sword strapped to my waist. The marines pass the touch down the line. A few moments later, the Spade sitting beside me reaches back and squeezes my shoulder. Although I knew it was coming, the firm press of his hand sends my heart into a gallop.

  The boat rocks as one by one the disconcertingly small, black-clad bodies cast grappling hooks onto the Hope’s hull and hop onto the ropes. Our boarding force is a contingent of children for soldiers. Yes, Spade children, the best trained warriors in the Lyron League. But the facts remain— It will be years before most of the Spades will need a razor blade.

  I count the disappearing boys. Five left. Four. Rising, I make my own way to the grappling line.

  A hand blocks me. Standing with his feet wide apart and his free hand on his sword, Penn shakes his head. “Not you, ma’am.”

  I don’t bother inquiring as to what he thinks he is doing, and push past him.

  Penn knocks me back. Hard.

  The shock of hitting the bench rattles me, and I swallow a curse. “What are you doing?” I hiss.

  On the ship above, voices rise in alarm. Our Spades have made their presence and intentions known. My hands curl into fists. I need to be there beside them, not hiding in the boat. “We are pressing the Hope’s people on my authority, Penn,” I growl. “I have to be there.”

  “You are the only one who can captain the ship, ma’am,” Penn shouts to be heard over the rising din as he extends his hand to help me up. “Lieutenant Catsper’s orders are to keep you safe. It will be my hide if I let you up before he signals.”

  I curse. The memory of Thomas punches through me like a pick through ice. Keeping me safe. I already know how keeping me safe plays out. “And it will be your hide from me if you don’t,” I tell Penn with a venomously sweet voice. “You can keep me safe on deck.”

  Penn hesitates long enough for me to grab the rope. Then, torn between pulling me down or coming along, he hops onto the line beside me. “The lieutenant will kill me,” he informs me with a touch of self-pity that lasts only long enough for him to weigh my progress and pick up speed so he is at the rail before me, covering my entrance.

  Pressing a ship into service is, theoretically, a nonviolent affair. An officer of the navy informs the captain of the subject vessel of the press; weapons are shown but rarely used. And then a new flag runs up the mast. Given the unorthodox nature of our invasion and the oddness of the Hope’s recent maneuvers, I have little expectation of the matter going quite that smoothly.

  But nothing prepared me for what I do see. Instead of finding a ragtag flock of screaming merchants armed with whatever lay underfoot when the marines boarded, I walk into a full-out battle with screams of pain and triumph that chill my blood now that I can decipher them. Tirik screams.

  Chapter 18

  My initial cold shock morphs to a grounding cool. Fighting the Tirik is more in line with my training than scrubbing decks. My vision clears as I scan the deck, noting the dying and the wounded. The Spades have control and, though the battle is not yet finished, I’ve little fear it will not end in our favor.

  My gaze finds Catsper pointing his sword at a man with a hard set to his jaw and responsibility in his eyes.

  “Book!” the man bellows in Tirik, and I hear the tiny splash of journals with lead-weighted pages slip overboard. He wears no uniform, but I am certain he is the captain of this vessel.

  Catsper raises his cutlass.

  “Belay that!” I yell, launching myself at the Tirik to shove him from the marine’s killing blow. “Don’t kill him!”

  Catsper pulls the blow just in time to keep from slicing my arm open for me. “You’re fighting for the wrong side, Ash,” he says calmly even as his other hand brings up a pistol to fire at another Tirik seaman, all of whom are quickly becoming extinct.

  I turn to the Tirik captain, who is on one knee. “Tell your men to stand down, sir,” I say in Tirik. My voice is oddly calm, and the words feel right on my tongue. “We’ve control of the ship, and there is no need for more deaths.” For the first time in a long time, I am speaking the plain truth.

  The man’s brows twitch, the only surprise he permits himself to show before his gaze runs over the deck in a final survey that I know tells him the same story as it told me.

  “It’s over, sir,” I say.

  He nods, tight jawed and stoic. I’ve seen the look before, I realize. It’s the same one Domenic wore when he ordered me flogged. Standing so close to the Tirik captain, I see agony deep in his eyes even as his firm, confident voice rings out over the ship. “Stop! Lay down your arms! The Hope has surrendered.”

  There is a telltale clink of metal on wood. Men’s hands rise reluctantly into the air.

  The Spades hold their ground, ready for the kill.

  “Lieutenant,” I say to Catsper, raising a brow.

  “Secure the prisoners,” Catsper barks to his boys, and I feel a knot loosen in my chest. The marine nods to me once and turns away, counting heads.

  I extend my hand to help the Tirik man up. “Captain…?”

  “Quinn.” His voice is strained but clear and respectful. “The People’s Republic of Tirik. Might I know your name, madam?”

  I open my mouth and find myself with nothing
to say. When all else fails, try the truth. “Captain Greysik, of the Ashing Ship Hope.”

  Quinn’s nostrils flare suddenly, and it takes me a heartbeat to realize that the reaction is not to my words, but to something behind me. “No!” he shouts as the report of a pistol cracks through the air.

  A few steps away, Catsper grunts with pain and turns, blood already soaking the breast of his shirt. His hand reaches for a pistol, but a second shot sounds before he can bring it to bear.

  I twist back around to find Quinn discarding the now useless gun with which he had killed his own man.

  “I apologize for my man’s actions,” says Quinn, but I’ve no time to listen. I let the Spades take him below while I push my way to Catsper’s side.

  There is much blood. I press the heel of my hand into the wound to stanch the flow. A wound he wouldn’t have if I hadn’t ordered the cease-fire. I shove the guilt down, knowing it will return with a vengeance the moment I have my mind free. But for now, I have to be here on deck. All of me.

  “I’m fine,” Catsper says through gritted teeth, but his words slur and his skin feels cool to my touch. He sways, and I slide my arm under his good shoulder, my heart beating as quickly as his must now be.

  “Go below,” I tell him quietly.

  He pulls back. “I said, I’m fine.”

  “You stay, you die,” I hiss at him.

  “Then I die,” Catsper hisses back.

  I touch his shoulder in gentle apology, the reason for which he does not yet understand. Then, boldly holding his gaze, I issue orders for the two Spades beside me to escort Catsper below by any means necessary. And keep him there.

  Catsper’s rage sears me raw, but I master my face and call out in a tone whose indifference reflects nothing of what I feel, “Mr. Kederic! Situation report, if you please.”

  The middie appears at my elbow at once, though I must clear my throat to tear his attention away from the companionway, which Catsper—having thrown onto the deck the two marines who attempted to lay hands on him—has just descended. “Six subjects killed, three seriously injured, eighteen in custody, ma’am.”