by Ben Cassidy
Kendril smiled bitterly. For a moment he seemed lost in thought.
“We go along with those orders, sir,” Beckett said into the silence, “and we may as well just hand Redemption over to the Jombards now.”
Kendril lifted his head. His face was calm and stern. “I will take the matter under advisement, Captain. In the meantime, I want you to help Colonel Root in preparing the men for demobilization. Colonel Yearling is going to take control of Stockade this evening.” He nodded towards the door. “Dismissed.”
For a moment Beckett just stared at Kendril. Then he straightened, and gave a sharp salute. “Yes, sir.”
Kendril watched as the captain made his way out of the study. Once Beckett was gone, he turned his face back to the window.
Wilkes poked his head around the corner of the door again. “Get you some coffee, sir?”
Kendril sighed. “Yes.” He looked at the streaming rain on the window panes. “It’s going to be a long evening.” He glanced down at his desk and frowned. “What’s this?” he asked, half to himself. He snatched up a folded brown parchment from the top of a pile of letters.
Wilkes looked up at the paper. “Oh, it’s a dispatch fresh from the Wall,” he said. “From Colonel Yearling, sir.”
Kendril nodded absently. He had already opened the dispatch, and was skimming through it.
Wilkes gave an awkward nod. “Well, sir, if there’s nothing else I’ll get that coffee for you—”
Kendril looked up suddenly. “Forget the coffee,” he snapped. “Get me Colonel Root. Now.”
“How’s the head?” Kara put a hand on Joseph’s arm.
The man pulled away a seawater-soaked rag from his forehead. “Fine. Just fine.”
Kara glanced up at the large purple bruise that covered Joseph’s forehead. “It looks like it hurts.” Her green cloak flapped in the strong ocean wind that swept the deck of the merchant ship.
Joseph squished the cold compress against his head again, wincing as water dripped down his face. “I said it was fine.” He glanced over the railing of the ship towards the empty horizon. “I can’t believe Maklavir did that.”
Kara took her hand away. “I thought it was terribly courageous. He saved my life.”
“Yes,” said Joseph as he rubbed water away from his face. “Well that’s Maklavir for you. Always as dramatic as possible.”
Kara took a step back. “How can you even say that? He’s risking his life for us.”
Joseph took the rag away from his head. “Sorry. I guess—” He gave Kara a sidelong glance. “It’s the head. I don’t mean it. Feels like someone banging on a kettle drum.”
Kara took a glance back up the deck. “Maklavir told me,” she said quietly.
Joseph looked over at her.
Kara looked back at him. “You should have said something, Joseph.”
“It wasn’t my place,” Joseph said. “Besides, things have been...complicated lately. Then suddenly out of the blue Maklavir decides he has feelings for you?” He shook his head, wincing again at the pain. “And through all this there’s been that vision you had, and the race to get to Redemption, and—”
Kara looked out at the ocean. “I haven’t made it easy for either of you, have I?”
“We’ll get him back, Kara,” said Joseph after a moment. “Pirates or not, we’ll find Maklavir again. As soon as we put in at Redemption—”
“As soon as we put in at Redemption,” Kara interrupted, “we need to find Kendril.” She looked over at Joseph. “Don’t ask me how I know. I just do. That oracle I had, the visions that keep coming to me every night...they are always about him. Not Maklavir.”
Joseph tapped his fingers against the railing of the ship. He pressed the wet cloth further against his head. “Let me see if I can get this straight, Kara. You’re saying that the man who vanquished a demon of the Void needs our help, while the man who can’t figure out which end of a sword to hold doesn’t?”
Kara exhaled. “Look...I know this sounds crazy. It always has.” She stared out at the white-capped waves. “But ever since Vorten I’ve known that this is my purpose, my destiny.” She tightened her hands on the wooden railing. “Kendril needs my help or he’s going to die. I just know it. And right now that’s more important than going after Maklavir, or even—”
“Us?” Joseph asked quietly.
Kara blinked and looked over at Joseph in surprise.
Joseph put the soaked cloth down on the railing. Water dripped from it down into the sea below. “If there even is an ‘us’,” he said slowly. “We haven’t talked about it at all. Not since before Vorten.”
Kara looked quickly away. “Like you said, things have been complicated. We were running for our lives, and—”
“We’ve got time now,” Joseph said. “And I’ve finally stopped hurling my guts every five minutes.” He turned to face the beautiful young woman. “And with everything that’s happened between me and Maklavir, I think you and I need to talk.”
Kara still didn’t meet his eyes. “It’s these visions, Joseph. They’re all I can think about right now. Getting to Kendril, and saving him from—”
“Let’s start with Kendril,” Joseph said. His voice was quiet, but there was a soft kindness in it. “Do you love him?”
“Of course,” said Kara. She finally looked over at Joseph. “But not in the way you mean. He’s like a brother to me. He always has been.”
Joseph nodded. There was a strange sadness in his eyes. “And what about me, Kara? Am I like a brother too?”
Kara looked at Joseph for a long moment, the wind battering her hair and cloak. She looked away.
Joseph stared out at the ocean. “That wasn’t fair of me.”
“It was perfectly fair of you,” Kara said in a dull monotone. “I remember that kiss, Joseph. The one we had in Vorten, before...before everything that happened.”
Joseph kept his eyes out on the waves. “I’m not good at this, Kara. You know that. But things have been so tense the last few weeks. And not just between you and me, but between me and Maklavir—” He put the cloth back up to his head, gingerly touching it to the bruise. “And now we’re going after Kendril, too, and I just need to—” He looked over at Kara. “I need to know. To know where things are between us.”
Kara was quiet. She looked down at the ship’s railing.
Joseph looked down, too. “You know how I feel about you,” he said quietly. His voice was almost lost in the snapping ocean wind. “I’ve been pretty stupid about it almost since the day I met you. Made an idiot out of myself more than once.”
Kara gave a small smile. “Yes you have.”
“I’m in love with you, Kara,” Joseph said. He scratched the back of his head, giving the woman a cautious glance. “That’s why I’m here, following you over the ocean to a place I’ve barely heard of.” He shrugged. “I’d...I’d follow you to the ends of Zanthora, Kara. I mean that.”
Kara looked up at him. “I know.”
Joseph looked out over the buffeted sea again. “But...well, I need to know if you share any of the same feelings for me. Because if you don’t, then I’m just being unbelievably stupid.”
Kara looked down again. She rubbed a hand across her eyes. “I—” she started to say. She stopped and took a shaky breath. “Joseph, I just...I don’t know. Not anymore.”
Joseph looked as though he had been punched in the stomach.
Kara put a hand on his arm. “Let me finish,” she said quickly. “I care about you, Joseph, I really do. And, and I...thought that I loved you, too.”
Joseph sucked in a breath. “You thought that you loved me?”
Kara made a face. She anxiously brushed her hair out of her eyes, looking out over the water again. “When Maklavir told me that he loved me, it—” she paused, fumbling for words. She turned pleading eyes on Joseph. “It’s thrown everything out of whack. I don’t really know how I feel anymore. How I should feel.”
Joseph took a step back. One of
his hands tightened against the railing. “But that’s not all, is it?” His voice was low, but not sharp. “There’s something else between us, isn’t there?”
Kara hesitantly raised her eyes. “You really want to go here?”
“I think we have to, don’t we?”
Kara gave a long, heavy sigh. She opened and shut her mouth, searching for the right words again. “You—” The wind caught her cloak and flapped it like the wings of a bird. “I mean, you aren’t—” Her voice faltered off.
Joseph’s eyes grew hard. “I’m not the same.”
Kara hung her head. She seemed afraid to meet his gaze. “There’s...something different about you,” she said. She glanced up, finally meeting his eyes. “You’re...harder. There’s an edge to you that wasn’t there before Vorten.” She put a hand quickly on his chest. “That doesn’t mean I don’t still care about you, Joseph. I do. But sometimes when I’m looking at you it feels like you’re someone else.”
It was Joseph’s turn to avoid eye contact. “When you were in that coma...it was a dark time for me,” he admitted. He made an effort to look Kara in the eyes again. “It made me question a lot of things. Become a lot of things that I never expected.”
“You’re still the man I met in the Howling Woods so long ago,” Kara said softly. “But you’re also...well, different enough that I feel like I’m getting to know you for the first time all over again.”
“You know,” said Joseph with the faintest hint of a smile, “I don’t think any of what you just said makes a lick of sense.”
Kara laughed. “I suppose you’re right.” She removed her hand and leaned back against the railing. Her voice turned more serious. “All the same, I think you know what I mean.”
A shadow passed over Joseph’s face. “Yes,” he said at last. “I do.” He glanced over at Kara, his voice soft. “You’ve changed yourself, you know. Ever since the Soulbinder, and Indigoru—”
Kara looked down. “I know.”
Neither of them said anything for a long moment. The wind howled over the surface of the ship’s deck, sending sprays of mist curling through the air.
“So what happens now?” Kara asked in a small voice.
Joseph looked up and met her gaze. There was a kindness and gentleness in his eyes that surprised her, until she realized that it had been missing for so long.
“We go to Redemption,” he said. “Kendril needs our help.”
Colonel Root came to a halt and saluted smartly. “My lord. The men are being disarmed, sir, and I’ve made arrangements—” He stopped mid-sentence, temporarily taken back.
Kendril was in the middle of his office. Wilkes hovered behind him, adjusting the straps of his cuirass. His lobster helmet was on the desk beside him, along with his rapier and several pistols.
Root’s eyes wandered in puzzlement over the military equipment. “Sir—?”
“Forget the demobilization,” Kendril snapped. He finished checking the lock on a pistol, then shoved it back into his holster. “Get Beckett’s troop mounted and standing by. All soldiers are to be re-armed and standing by ready to march on my order. Understand?”
Root gave a slow, sober nod. “Yes, my lord. As you order.” He half-expected what was coming next, and he wasn’t sure yet what his next response would be. The order to disband from Lord Blackstone had been clear, and to ignore it meant an inevitable conflict with Yearling’s regulars.
Kendril caught the look on Root’s face. “It’s not what you think,” he said quietly. “I’m not marching on Redemption. We have bigger problems.” He snatched a dispatch off the desk and handed it over to Root. “See for yourself. Ow, Wilkes, not so tight.”
“Sorry, sir,” the lad squeaked.
Intrigued, Root took the dispatch and scanned it.
It was a daily report from Yearling about the progress of the dragoons and reports of enemy movement along the Wall. Prominent in it was the attack on Hangman’s Hill earlier that morning.
Root gave a shrug of his shoulders. “I’m sorry, my lord, I don’t—”
“Forget the stuff about Hangman’s Hill,” said Kendril. “Look there, at the most recent reports.” He didn’t wait for Root to find it. “No movements of the enemy observed along the Wall. Nowhere. No raids, no skirmishes, no movements along the fringes of the woods. Nothing.”
Root tried not to show his confusion. “Yes, my lord. But I still don’t see—”
Kendril gave an impatient snort. “The Jombards are coming, Root. Soon. Maybe tonight. Certainly by morning. They’re massing for an attack.” He rolled his shoulders as Wilkes fiddled with the straps. “If we disband now, the Wall will be overrun by mid-morning.”
Root pursed his lips and glanced down at the dispatch. “Forgive me, my lord, but you’re basing all this on....”
“On the lack of Jombard movements along the Wall,” Kendril said impatiently. “Wilkes, tighten up that left strap.” He looked directly at Root. “Make sure Beckett’s troop is ready to ride. They may have to spend all night in their boots. And the gate to Stockade stays closed from here on out, unless someone’s coming in or out.”
“Yes, sir,” Root mumbled. He cleared his throat, and set the dispatch down on the desk. “Forgive me, my lord, but has it occurred to you that—” He paused, aware that he was overstepping his bounds. “Well, if the Jombards don’t attack—”
“They will,” Kendril said in a voice to end the conversation. “Post extra men in the guard towers to watch for signal fires. The moment one is spotted, come and tell me.” He stepped away from Wilkes, and gave an approving nod. “Good job, lad. Feels secure enough. Have you found me a replacement horse yet?”
The boy nodded. “Yes, sir. A good thoroughbred, one of Squire Molluth’s.”
Kendril reached for his rapier. “Have her saddled and standing by. I may need her at a moment’s notice.”
“Yes, sir.” Wilkes scrambled out the door to the office.
Kendril raised an eyebrow at Root. “Something else, Colonel?”
Root shook his head. “No, my lord.”
“You’re dismissed, then,” Kendril said curtly.
Root saluted, then turned out the office door. He walked down the hall and out the front door of the blockhouse.
The rain outside was pattering gently away. It had the last chill of late winter in it, but the promise of early spring as well. The parade ground was already sodden and muddy, trampled and churned by the drilling of dozens of men.
Captain Beckett came from the direction of the stables. He gave Root a lazy salute. “My men are turning in their weapons as we speak, Colonel. At least the ones that—”
“Then get them back,” Root said. “General’s orders. He wants your troopers ready for action right away.” He turned his face towards the barracks. “As well as the other men. He thinks the Jombards are going to attack.”
Beckett’s eyes twinkled. “I see. Well, sir, I’ll tell my men to be ready to move.”
Root’s gaze wandered back to the central blockhouse. “I hope the General knows what he’s doing.”
“Lord Ravenbrook?” Beckett chuckled softly. “Oh, I’d say he knows what he’s doing, sir. He’s no pup wet behind the ears, he’s not.”
Root turned back to Beckett, ignoring the falling rain. “You knew Lord Ravenbrook from before, right? During the last Jombard Wars?”
Beckett beamed proudly. “That I did, sir. Fought with him in the field.”
Root pulled up his coat against the chill. “But he left Redemption, didn’t he? For quite a long time. Why?”
Beckett’s face darkened. “I...couldn’t rightfully say, sir.”
Root narrowed his gaze. “But you know something, don’t you? Something I don’t know.”
Beckett gave a cautionary glance towards the blockhouse, then gestured towards the stables. “If you’ll walk with me, sir,” he said in a quiet tone, “I’ll tell you what I know.”
Root nodded. He stepped in beside the captain.
“But what happened?” Root splashed through a brown puddle, rippled with rain drops. “Did Ravenbrook find out?”
Beckett nodded. “That he did, sir. Came on them in the act. In his own mansion, too.”
Root raised his bushy eyebrows in surprise. “I can’t imagine that ended well.”
“No, sir, it didn’t.” Beckett glanced over his shoulder at the dwindling shape of the blockhouse, as if fearing that the subject of their conversation would appear at any moment. “Things are a bit fuzzy on what happened after that. Lord Ravenbrook and Atherton got into a fight, at least according to the household staff. They were going at it with swords, and then—” Beckett stopped.
Root frowned. “And then what?”
“Ravenbrook’s wife was killed,” Beckett said, his voice a whisper. “Atherton was the one who did it. Her blood was all over his sword.”
“Great Eru in Pelos,” Root cursed. He glanced up as they came to the entrance to the stables, and slowed his steps to give more time for the conversation. “What happened?”
Beckett gave an uncaring shrug. “They hanged Atherton. There was a huge trial, of course, and Lord Ravenbrook was the key witness. But the facts were clear enough.”
Root furrowed his brow in thought. “I suppose. But why would Atherton have killed Ravenbrook’s wife? Didn’t he love her?”
Beckett shook his head. “I can’t say, sir. I don’t pretend to understand the mind of a man like that.” He turned to the entrance of the stables. “I’ll have my troopers ready to march, sir.” He gave a malevolent grin. “I rather hope Lord Blackstone marches out here to disband us himself, sir. We’d show him a thing or two.”
