by Ben Cassidy
“If they don’t swamp the ship first,” grumbled the first mate. He nodded his head off to the north. “Being a landlubber, I’m sure you haven’t noticed, but there’s a storm settling in from the north. If we don’t get out of here soon then we’ll be in the thick of it.”
“I’d get a move on if I were you, then.” Joseph fished his free hand into the herbal bag that he always kept at his side. He pulled out a small bottle and tossed it to the first mate. “Here.”
The first mate caught it with his unwounded hand, and glanced down at it suspiciously. “What’s this?”
“Deadly poison,” Joseph said. “What do you think? It’s a healing salve.” He motioned to the first mate’s arm. “Put it on your wound when you change the bandage. It will help it heal twice as fast. Prevent infection, too.”
The first mate stared at Joseph as if he had lost his mind.
The pathfinder gave an embarrassed shrug. “Once a day should do it, I’d think.” He looked back at Kara.
The redheaded thief was looking at him with a strange expression on her face.
Joseph straightened, suddenly self-conscious. “What?”
Kara shook her head and managed a small smile. “It’s...nothing. I just caught a glimpse of you.”
Joseph scrunched his face in confusion. “A glimpse of me? What do you mean?”
Kara turned for the stairs. “You. The Joseph I used to know.” She paused at the head of the steps and looked back over her shoulder at him, her red hair tossing in the wind. “It’s good to know that you’re still somewhere in there.”
Kendril’s rapier hissed out of its sheath. The naked blade reflected the pale yellow light streaming from the candle-lit tavern. “The first man that comes toward me dies,” he said.
The town guardsmen paused, their glaives still held at the ready. They glanced uneasily at each other.
“You’re under arrest,” Blackstone repeated, spitting the words out as if they were dirt in his mouth. “Sergeant, you have your orders.” He wagged a gloved finger at Kendril and Beckett. “I want both those men under arrest. If they resist, kill them.”
“Beckett,” said Kendril calmly, “get your horse and ride. Whatever happens, don’t look back.”
The red-bearded giant glanced up at Lord Blackstone and smiled. “Yes, sir.”
“Sergeant,” Blackstone repeated. “I gave you a direct order.”
The sergeant of the town guard looked nervously at Kendril’s keen rapier.
Beckett turned and dashed off with a heavy stride towards the stables behind the tavern.
“For Eru’s sake, men,” Blackstone exploded. “There are six of you!” He glared down at Kendril with pure hatred in his eyes. “Now arrest that man.”
“Can’t you see the whole town is falling apart?” Kendril kept his sword up and ready to strike. Rain dripped off the long steel blade. “We need the militia to man the walls and restore order. If we don’t everyone here will be dead before morning.”
The sergeant of the town guard lifted his glaive and looked back at Blackstone. “My lord, perhaps—”
“Shut up!” Blackstone shrieked. “I don’t pay you to think, sergeant, I pay you to follow orders.” He looked over at Kendril. “Drop your weapon, Ravenbrook. Now.”
“Not happening,” Kendril said between his teeth. “We don’t have time for this nonsense. Every second we waste here the Jombards get closer to the town. The only chance we have is to fortify the defenses and arm the militia. If we can, then—”
“Then you can take over,” Blackstone roared. He drew his own weapon, a heavy bastard sword. “Take Redemption for your own. Destroy the legacy of my family and ruin everything the Blackstones have built here!” He clenched the handle of his sword, his eyes wild with rage. “Do you really think I’d ever let you do that? Do you think I would ever be so stupid?”
Kendril stared uncomprehendingly at the mounted noble. “What on Zanthora are you talking about?”
Several of the liveried town guard turned, a nervous look of confusion on their faces.
“Sir—?” the sergeant started to say.
“I’m no fool,” Blackstone continued. His eyes had a demonic look to them. “You think I don’t know what’s going on here? You think I don’t know what you’re planning, Ravenbrook?” He lifted his sword so that the point of the weapon was pointed at the flames to the east. “You’re in league with the Jombards. You’ve conspired with them, all so that you can destroy me, and destroy Redemption itself!”
The town guardsmen looked warily at each other. The glaives they held began to lift uncertainly.
“Great Eru,” Kendril whispered. “You really are completely mad.”
“Mad?” The word seemed to drive Blackstone to an even greater fury. “Mad? Is it madness to see one’s enemies and thwart their evil designs? Is it madness to strike at a rabid dog before it bites?” He swung the flat of his sword over the town of Redemption. “All of this is because of your treachery, Kendril! And I will not stand by to see my beloved town destroyed.”
For a long moment Kendril didn’t move. Rain dripped down off the edges of his steel cuirass, and streamed down from his dark hair. Then he lowered his rapier.
Blackstone thrust his bastard sword at Kendril’s chest. “Sergeant, arrest him! That’s an order.”
Kendril looked directly at the sergeant of the town guardsmen. “Sergeant, I am Kendril, Lord Ravenbrook. Until this morning I was the commander of the Redemption Militia.” He swept a hand over the burnt side of his face. “I was at Vorten when the Void opened and the goddess Indigoru herself came into the city.”
The sergeant gave a slow nod. “I know who you are, sir.”
Kendril wiped the falling rain from his eyes. “Good. Because I need you to trust me.” He glanced across the top of the palisade wall, where the horizon still glowed. “The Jombards are coming, and they will destroy everything and everyone in Redemption if we don’t stop them.”
“Don’t listen to his poison!” Blackstone shrieked. His horse stamped impatiently in the mud of the street. “Can’t you see his words are lies? Kill him right now.”
“If you arrest me or kill me,” Kendril said in an eerily calm voice, “then there will be no one to organize the defense of this town. The Jombards will come storming through the gates and massacre everyone.” He lifted his head. “It’s your choice, sergeant. Either kill me or let me go. Anything else is a waste of time that we can’t afford.”
Nobody moved. The rain continued to hammer down into the miry mud of the street. Shouts and echoes of looting and rioting echoed through the town. In the distance came an ominous rumble of thunder, sounding almost like cannon fire.
The sergeant brought his glaive to an upright position. The other town guardsmen immediately followed suit.
“Sir,” the sergeant said back to Lord Blackstone, “I don’t see any reason to arrest—”
“Traitors!” Blackstone spat. “I am the parliament-appointed mayor of Redemption, the governor of the whole colony! How dare you—?”
“Give it up,” Kendril snapped up at the man. “Saving this town is more important now than any petty grievances between our families. You can help us.” He gestured with his rapier towards the docks. “People are panicked. They’ll be crowding every boat in the harbor trying to get out of town. Try to get them organized, calm things down as much as you can.” He looked up as a scream echoed down between two buildings. “I’ll gather the militia and try to get the walls of the town fortified as much as possible.”
Blackstone’s eyes narrowed. “Am I taking orders from you now, Ravenbrook?”
Kendril sheathed his rapier. “It isn’t about taking orders. It’s about doing whatever we can to save Redemption.”
Blackstone stared down at Kendril for a long moment. He lowered his sword and gave a slow nod of his head. “All right,” he said in a different tone of voice. “I agree with you. Gather your militia and man the walls. I’ll restore order to
the docks.”
Kendril gave a relieved nod. “Good.” He looked at the sergeant. “We’ll need some of your men to support Lord Blackstone.” He turned and pointed towards the causeway that led down to the shore. “Get down to the docks and—”
Blackstone suddenly urged his horse forward. The beast slammed into Kendril with an agitated whinny.
Unprepared for the collision, Kendril flew backwards into the mud of the street.
Blackstone swung his sword up to strike. “I’ll see you in the Void first, traitor!”
Kendril flipped open one of his holsters and reached for a pistol.
A sharp hiss filled the air.
Blackstone stiffened, a surprised look in his eyes. His free hand jerked spasmodically at a projectile that protruded from his neck. Before he could get his hand around it he began convulsing. Foam and spittle covered his lips.
The town guardsmen backed away in fright and amazement.
With a final jerk, Blackstone slipped out of his saddle and landed heavily in the mud of the street. He stopped moving, his glazed eyes looking at nothing.
“See?” said Tomas as he emerged from the darkness of a nearby alleyway. He waved an empty hand crossbow. “Poisoned.”
Kendril got up, holding his thigh and wincing. “Where were you this whole time?”
Tomas shrugged. “Figured I should make myself scarce when I saw the armed posse coming down the street.” He looked down at Blackstone’s body. “Looks like it was the right call.” He gave Kendril a wry smile. “Oh, and you’re welcome. For saving your life, I mean.”
Kendril looked at the sergeant and his men.
They were tense, their eyes going back and forth between Kendril, Tomas, and Blackstone’s body.
Kendril took his hand away from his holster. “Well, sergeant? It’s still your call.”
The man straightened. He stuck the butt of his glaive in the mud of the street. “Looked like self-defense to me, sir.”
The other town guards pulled up their glaives as well.
Kendril nodded somberly. “All right. Take care of the body. Blackstone still deserves a proper burial, even if he was a snake.”
The sergeant nodded. “Yes, Lord Ravenbrook.” He motioned to his men.
Kendril wiped some of the mud and filth off the side of his face. It was streaked from the rain. “How many guardsmen are there in Redemption?”
“Not more than a dozen, sir. Half of my men are right here.”
Kendril swore softly under his breath. “All right, sergeant, do what you can to restore order. Keep the people calm, especially down by the docks.” He glanced over at Tomas. “We need the militia.”
The Ghostwalker held up his hands. “I’m not arguing with you.”
Kendril stared out through the falling rain towards the eastern sky. “It gets worse. We need Yearling’s dragoons, too. We’ll never hold Redemption without them.”
Tomas raised his hood against the pounding rain. The edges of the cloth rippled in the wind. “Good luck with that. They were holing up in Stockade when we left. Yearling didn’t seem like he had any inclination of moving.”
“I know,” said Kendril darkly. “So we’ll have to go get them out.”
The sergeant saluted sharply. “My men and I are yours to command, sir.”
Kendril turned, his face confused. “You and your men aren’t in the militia, sergeant.”
The sergeant glanced back at Blackstone’s body. “I suppose it hasn’t occurred to you yet, sir, but with Lord Blackstone dead—”
“With Lord Blackstone dead,” Tomas continued as he reloaded his hand crossbow, “there’s no one in charge of Redemption.”
Kendril glanced at Tomas, then back at the sergeant. “I don’t have time for games, sergeant. What’s your point?”
The sergeant came to attention. “My point is this, sir. With Lord Blackstone dead, and you the general of the militia, that would put you as next in charge.”
Kendril closed his eyes. “Oh, Eru,” he breathed.
The sergeant glanced awkwardly at Kendril and Tomas. “Yes, sir. That would make you acting mayor of Redemption. And governor of the colony.”
“Well,” said Tomas with a sardonic smile, “you’re certainly rising quickly in the world, aren’t you?”
Kendril looked away for a moment. “Fine,” he said shortly. “It doesn’t change anything.” He looked back at the sergeant. “Get your men down to the waterfront. Get things there under control, and try to organize an orderly evacuation.”
The sergeant saluted. “Yes, sir.”
Tomas stepped forward and lowered his voice. “What about us?”
Kendril turned his gaze on the palisade wall of the town. “We still need to mount a defense fast, or else I won’t be acting governor of anything.”
Chapter 15
“This is insanity.” Joseph pushed himself back against the wall of one of the warehouses along the shoreline. “Everyone else is trying to get out of this town.”
Kara pulled the hood of her cloak further down over her head. The rain was pounding down relentlessly from the night sky, tossed in fierce waves by the blowing wind. She was already drenched. To be fair, though, she had spent the last few days perpetually drenched in rain and sea water. Right about now a fire would be nice.
On the boardwalk by the nearby docks a man started bellowing loudly. Two men armed with glaives rushed down the gangplanks, blowing whistles over the roar of the crowd and falling rain. A loud splash came from the harbor as a man threw himself in the water, swimming wildly to reach one of the anchored ships in the bay.
There were people everywhere. Young, old, men and women. Some were armed. Most had bags and packs. Two men by the causeway carried a large steamer trunk between them. Somewhere a donkey brayed, followed by the sharp barking of two or three dogs.
“Kara,” said Joseph, “we’ll never find Kendril in all this. Assuming he’s even here at all.”
The redheaded girl swallowed, her eyes moving over the crowded shoreline. “He needs our help.” The words sounded unconvincing, even to her. “We should move up the hill into the town.”
Joseph pulled up the collar of his greatcoat. He was soaked through as well. “Talk about the wrong time to visit,” he mumbled. He looked up the stretch of boardwalk and docks towards the covered causeway that led up the hill. “Getting up there’s going to be challenge. Take a look.”
Kara glanced around Joseph.
The narrow causeway, protected on both sides by high palisade wall, ran up from the beach to the town on top of the hill. It was packed with a mass of streaming refugees, all pouring down onto the short stretch of beach and boardwalk.
“We’ll be fighting against the flow the whole way up,” Joseph said. He adjusted his hat against the cold wind. Rain dripped steadily from the edge of the brim. “Ugh, does it feel like the ground is pitching up and down to you? My stomach is still churning.”
Kara stared at the one path up to the town. Joseph was right. Trying to get past the fleeing mass of humanity was going to be difficult at best. She looked up at Joseph. “Look, Joseph, you’ve gotten me this far.” She glanced out at the bay and the crowded docks. “This was my vision, not yours. I understand that. If you want to—” her voice caught as she tried to say the words. “I mean, there’s still time to—”
Joseph gave her a hard look. “You really don’t know me well at all, do you Kara?”
Kara felt a sudden pang. She put a hand on Joseph’s arm. “I do know you. I know that you’ve followed me halfway across Zanthora and asked nothing in return.”
Joseph looked away.
“This is something I have to do,” Kara said. “And I know it will be dangerous. I just don’t know what the end of it will be.”
“Well then,” said Joseph firmly, “we’ll have to find out together, won’t we?” He took Kara’s hand and led her out onto the crowded boardwalk. “Let’s start by finding Kendril.”
“But where do we st
art?” Kara said, raising her voice as they moved out into the noise and press of refugees.
“Kendril’s never too difficult to find,” Joseph said over his shoulder. “Look for the thickest, most dangerous part of any fight, and he’s bound to be there.”
Kendril rode into the central square of Redemption. In the clear space was a large group of horsemen. The mounts were blowing and stamping in the puddle-strewn ground. The riders shivered in the driving rain and whipping wind.
“Sir!” Beckett rode up, his customary grin on his face. “Good to see you, sir.” He jerked a thumb back at the cavalry behind him. “This is all I could gather together at short notice, sir. There’ll be more coming later, especially after dawn.”
Kendril looked over the assembled riders with a frown.
There had to be less than fifty, not even half of the full mounted troop. Most of the riders wore little or no armor. While most had civilian swords or rapiers, few had pistols. One or two riders even had large hunting muskets slung over their shoulders.
“Where’s Root?” Kendril said abruptly.
“Here, my lord.” Root rode up. He somehow managed to look dignified and calm, despite the driving rainstorm that was soaking all of them. “There are at least a couple hundred more militiamen on foot.” He nodded back towards the edge of the square, where a group of farmers, tanners, and hunters were huddled against the sides of nearby buildings to get out of the wind and rain.
Kendril struggled to make out the shapes of the men in the near-darkness of the square. “Weapons?”
Root gave a sad shake of his head. “Not good, sir. A mishmash of things. Some have only a pitchfork or axe. Most have at least a sword, though. We have several matchlocks and a few flintlocks, but this blasted storm will make things doubly difficult.”
Kendril cursed under his breath. He swung around in his saddle to look again at the eastern sky.
