by K. Ferrin
The door to the cabin swung open, and a boatsmyn poked her dripping head into the room. “Ships,” she said, eyes darting between all of them huddled in the room. “Two of them. Still a long distance back, but no doubt they are tailing us. We’ll only have a few hours on them once we hit port.” She ducked out of the room, closing the door firmly behind her.
Ling felt her stomach drop to the floor of the room.
Drake’s face was pale, but her eyes were hard and her mouth set in a stubborn line. “Pack up whatever you plan to bring along with you to Caern, but pack light. We’re going to sideswipe Nantes, getting close enough for the six of us to jump overboard and swim to shore. The ship will continue heading up the coast.”
“What will that gain us, with those damned birds following along?” Fern asked, her voice husky and still angry. “They’ll know six of us left the ship.”
“Six of us?” Ling could not keep the question to herself. Surely Drake didn’t mean for Celene and Amalya to come with them.
“You can remain onboard if you wish, Celene. They don’t know who you are, and it’s Fern and Ling they are after.”
“We go where you go,” Celene said.
Drake turned to look at Amalya.
“She can’t swim.” Celene answered Drake’s unspoken question. “But I’m a strong enough swimmer for both of us. I’ll carry her.”
Drake nodded once, and Ling wondered at that. Having Amalya with them was a risk, for the girl as well as all the rest of them. Who were they, to make their presence worth the risk?
“If we go cloaked, they’ll have no idea who left and who stayed on board. They’ll be forced to split up, half following this tub and half searching for us in Nantes,” the captain continued.
“They’ve got people on the ground there. They must,” Ling said, giving voice to her earlier thought.
“If they know where we’re headed, they’ll expect us in Caern. It’s the only way across without entering the Woedenwoud.” Fern’s face was drawn and pale, her normally frizzy hair greasy and flat against her head.
“If we beat them to it, it won’t matter much,” Drake said. “We just need to stay ahead of them.”
“I’d much rather lose them altogether than have them so close on our trail. One delay, one miss, and we’ll be in their hands with your plan,” Fern accused.
“If you’ve got a better plan I’m happy to hear it. For now, however, we’re headed to Nantes. Get your things ready.”
Fern’s lips turned down into a rigid frown as she watched Drake leave the cabin. “Do you have a better plan, Fern?” Dreskin asked her. “One that involves us going forward, not back. I’m all for it if you do. I’ll talk with Drake—”
“You know how I feel about this, Dreskin. This is all a mistake. You and Drake are going to lose this war for us. Though in the end it won’t matter much I suppose. The sooner I die the sooner I stop missing Alyssum.”
“Fern…”
But she was already gone, leaving Dreskin to stare imploringly at Ling, Celene, and Amalya. “She is not dead.” He said it so confidently, as if he knew Alyssum was alive. He was always like that, so confident, so sure of himself, of the path he took. So sure of all of them, that if they only worked together they could achieve anything. Ling envied him that certainty. The only thing she was sure of was that she had to keep putting one foot in front of the other, one way or another.
As Ling left the small cabin, she saw Fern squatting on the deck, closing her eyes in concentration. She flickered for a moment, a dim light shimmering around her before flickering out. She let her head fall forward for a moment before climbing back to her feet. She turned and looked at Ling, her blue eyes and the blue scaling along her cheeks flashing in the sunlight.
Ling wanted to plead with her not to leave, to beg her to stay, to help them end this thing that she and Alyssum had started, but the words jumbled together and tangled up in her throat. She didn’t know how to get through to Fern any more that Dreskin did, and she’d learned to be too afraid to even try.
“I hate you.” Fern’s tone was flat, no grief, no anger, no emotion in it whatsoever. Ling’s eyes opened wide, and tension flashed through her body like a lightning strike. Shock and hurt wrapped snug around her middle. She understood what her father must have been feeling when she’d seen him last, hollowed and stooping.
Fern spun on her heel and walked away. It wasn’t the first time she’d said such things to Ling, but it was the first time she’d said them with such complete indifference. The lack of emotion behind the words made them much more real. Before, she’d thought it was just the intense emotions Fern was going through, fear and grief over what had happened to Alyssum. People said things they didn’t mean when they were upset. But Fern had not been upset. Not this time. Her eyes and tone had been empty of malice. They’d just relayed her truth.
Ling retreated into the dimness of the now empty cabin, closing the door tightly behind her. She lay down on Dreskin’s bed, pulling the covers up over her head. She pulled a knife out of her boot and sliced it across her palm, and then did it again. She stopped, studying the knife in front of her. She hadn’t cut since the talk she’d had with Drake, but Fern’s vehemence brought all those feelings of hopelessness right back. She struggled against the rising tide for several breaths, wrapping herself in the words Drake had said, willing the feelings of betrayal to fall away, telling herself Fern didn’t mean it, that she was just lost in her own grief.
The covers were yanked back, and she stared up at Drake in naked surprise. Drake stood with her mouth open as if she’d stopped in the middle of a word. Their eyes met, and Drake’s understanding of what she’d been doing was writ all over her face. Ling exploded to her feet, shoving Drake away from her. “Don’t you know how to knock?” she demanded.
“I did knock. Several times. And called your name. I called your name from across the room as well, all without an answer.”
Ling didn’t know what to say. She’d been so focused on fighting back the negativity Fern had dropped on her she hadn’t heard anything. Ling jutted her chin out defensively. “It’s not what you think. It was, but not any more. It’s just…Fern.”
Drake flattened her lips, but her eyes went soft. “She doesn’t mean it, Ling. You of all people should be able to see where she is coming from, what such a loss—even if only perceived—can do to you.”
Drake was right. Ling had taken her anger out on Amalya, a sweet girl who’d done nothing to deserve Ling’s malice. How could she be so angry at Fern for doing the same to her? She sat down on the bed, sliding the knife back into her boot. “You are right. I know you’re right. It doesn’t make it any easier.”
“Nothing ever does,” Drake said. “Come on, we need to go, now.”
Ling grabbed a cloak and pulled the deep hood over her head. She ducked as deeply into it as she could, and followed Drake out of the door. She stepped out of the cabin and looked up in surprise. The birds flew so close to the ship now that Ling could clearly make out the yellow glow in their eyes, and she could hear the wind rustling their feathers as they cut through the air. She kept her head lowered as she approached the railing. The others all gathered there already, waiting for her. All cloaked, their heads hidden deep in the folds or hoods drawn over their faces. It was impossible to tell who was who, and a tight, grim smile curled Ling’s lips. The Tovendieren must be spitting mad right now!
Drake was delivering a last smattering of orders. The crew was to keep sailing this route as if their homeport was just a short sail further up the coast. They were to continue fishing as weather permitted, continuing to process their catch, and they were to give up easily when the warlocks caught up to them. Otherwise the crew was to scatter when they made landfall, lay low, and when it was safe, make their way back to Middelhaern. Drake would meet them there when this was all said and done. Or, if in six month’s time she was not back, they were released from their duties. The bank would pay out their full salaries, a
nd then they were to seek berths on other ships. It was a contingency she’d had in place for years.
Drake’s crew had sailed with her for many years. Ling could see from the looks on their faces how little they liked this plan, but Drake stood squarely, arms across her chest as she spoke, and Ling could see just as clearly that they would do as she asked.
Drake’s orders droned on, but Ling ignored them. Instead she watched the sails of two large ships, clearly visible in the distance now. There was no question they’d make it into port several hours before those ships would, but she shuddered to think how many warlocks each one could hold. Far more than what they’d run into when they’d managed to take over this tub.
Ling turned to face Nantes and felt the small bit of hope she’d harbored that they’d make it to Caern ahead of the warlocks shrivel and die. The waters were deep here, and the shallow curve of the bay allowed even this tub to approach quite close to the beach without slowing their pace. She didn’t have a sense for how far out they were—distances on open ocean were tricky—but she guessed it was less than a quarter mile. Doable, but it wouldn’t be easy. She looked at Celene, standing calmly as she listed to Drake’s words, Amalya tied tightly to her back.
She turned once again to look at the threatening sails behind them. If all went well, they’d hit the beach a couple, maybe three, hours ahead of the warlocks. But she wasn’t sure what would happen once they did. She shifted forward once again, eyes on Nantes.
Thick black ropes of smoke boiled up into the sky. Angry gouts of orange flame flickered out of the roiling darkness. It looked as if the entire city were burning, though she could see little beyond the docks themselves. She looked at the others with wide eyes and saw nothing but grim resolve staring back at her.
“Now, go!” The boatsmyn scattered to their duties. Ling huddled near the railing; Celene, Amalya, Drake, Dreskin, and Fern lined up beside her. “It’s not as far as it might look,” Drake said. “But it’s further than most of you have swum before. We have time, so don’t panic. Slow, steady strokes. Keep hold of your breath. Speak up if you need help.” She expelled a tight blast of air and climbed to the far side of the rail. The others followed suit. Ling counted three breaths, and then Drake leapt into the water.
Ling jumped after her. The water hit her like a solid wall, and she felt herself roll with the force of it, and then she was swimming, the others beside her. The water was rough, the wind whipping the tips of the waves into froth. She could hear nothing but the churning water and the heavy breathing of her friends all around her. She swam hard, but at a steady rate, and she watched the others around her.
She’d grown up at the merging of the Lisse and Arnhem rivers; Evelyn was a strong swimmer, and Ling had all that same muscle memory. But she was also immortal, made of magic, not muscle. She was the most capable, out of all of them, of helping any of the others if they began to flag.
She watched Celene most closely, but the woman swam strong as a fish, even with Amalya on her back. To Ling’s surprise, Amalya’s face was tight but calm whenever the heaving water allowed Ling to catch a glimpse of the two of them.
Ling had no idea how long it took to make it to land, but it felt like an eternity. The closer they got, the slower everyone around her seemed to swim. It was almost like some cruel magic was at work, incrementally moving the land further and further away though they swam steadily closer. They pushed on, faces set, focused and stubborn, until finally she felt sand beneath her feet.
The smell of cooking meat hit her nose before the water hit her chest. They dragged themselves up a sandy beach far to the left of the docks themselves, avoiding the fire raging there. It wasn’t the smell of a well-cooked haunch over an open fire, but rather the burnt-meat smell from an inattentive cook. A very inattentive cook. Though, Ling mused, it beat the rotten fish smell of the boat.
They didn’t pause to change or even to squeeze water from their clothes. Ling could feel the warlocks behind them like a physical weight, and she was certain the others felt it as well. As they climbed up the beach, Nantes came into view. Through the shifting smoke, Ling could see the docks and the warehouses lining the waterfront were all that burned. The rest of the town stood untouched by fire, but empty.
There were no people running about, no one shouting to organize a water line to haul buckets of water to the building, no effort to put the fire out or to keep it from spreading. The fire raged unimpeded.
As they approached the center of the plaza, the source of the roasting meat smell became apparent. Hundreds of corpses had been piled into a large hill at the center of the plaza and set ablaze. It was impossible to tell how long it had been burning, but it was still blazing hot. Ling suspected this was also the source of the fire that was steadily consuming the entire oceanfront. As they drew close, Ling could see most of the bodies had been fully consumed, but those that remained relatively untouched by fire were animal. The charred, fleshless bones confirmed this was the case. She could see large skulls that looked like horse or cattle, and smaller bones, perhaps from dogs or similar sized animals. She moved around the black mountain of corpses, wondering what could have motivated a town to burn so many animals. There were hundreds here, more than she could count.
The Brisians bonded closely with their animal kin. Love forged in the fire of magic was how they referred to that bond. She tried to imagine what could have caused the people of Nantes to burn their lemfreu, the equivalent of their own children.
“Plague?” Ling asked as she stopped beside Drake.
Drake didn’t answer. Ling turned to see her staring into the smoldering remains. Ling followed her gaze and realized she was looking at a human skull. Ling scanned the area in front of her, searching. Having seen one, she suddenly saw that same unmistakable shape everywhere she looked. Large and small, adult and child, piled in with their animal companions and set ablaze.
Ling felt the hair on the back of her neck stand on end as she realized what she was looking at. Perhaps the fire raged unimpeded because the entire population of Nantes burned here.
Chapter Eleven
Celene, Amalya, Fern, and Dreskin gathered around Ling and Drake. Their faces were smeared with the ash and debris from the fire, and Ling shuddered as she considered where that ash might have come from. The sun was bright, but it came through the smoke in odd beams and sunbursts, casting heavy shadow everywhere else. The smoke was thick, causing her friends to cough and choke, the debris in the air irritating their lungs.
“A disease of some sort?” Dreskin asked, repeating Ling’s question from only a moment before. “There are human and animal bones in that pile.”
“They would never do this, not even in response to disease,” Celene said. “They value their dead as much as they do the living. They would never…” Celene’s chest heaved in grief, and Amalya whimpered beside her, her overly large, innocent child eyes open wide with fear. “Such a thing is not permitted in Brisia. It’s not illegal, but a law isn’t required for this, not here. They simply would never…” her words faded away.
“Is this everyone? I mean, someone had to pile them up and light the fire, but who?” Ling asked.
Dreskin shook his head. “Nantes is small by Middelhaern standards, but there is a sizable population here. Quite large indeed if you factor in their lemfreu.”
“Well, it seems we need not worry overmuch about being seen,” Fern said.
“Let’s just hope there are plenty of horses still around,” Drake said quietly. “They are not far behind us. We need to hurry.”
The Brisians were a well-ordered people, and Nantes reflected their preference for order. The harbor was at the city center, and the rest of the town radiated from that center in evenly spaced roads like the wooden supports of a paper fan. The roads were well maintained and wide, and the houses that lined the roadway were tall two-storied whitewashed buildings. The Brisians themselves were a tall people, often towering over everyone else around them, and the buildings r
eflected this height in the size of their doorways and windows.
Ling had always heard that the Brisians were friendly, open, and inviting. Certainly Treantos had been that first day she’d seen him, laughing with the dancing girl as he bought graspers from her. Today, the doors and windows they passed were closed and heavily curtained.
Dread had settled over her from the moment she’d realized the town was burning, but that dread grew with each abandoned block they passed. The sharp tang of smoke and burned flesh was in the air even here, but otherwise the town was eerily quiet. No birds sang, no insects droned, and the houses and businesses were closed up tight as if for the night. Ling wondered what she would find were she to peak into a window. Would evidence of the lives lived within still be there—dishes stacked neatly by the sink, clothing folded neatly at the foot of a bed? Or would she find them emptied of all but those items too heavy to be easily moved by hand or by cart?
As they entered the fourth block from the docks, they discovered the first evidence of life. A large dog ran up to them, whimpering loudly, and crouched low briefly before rolling onto its back to expose its belly. Its tail was tucked tightly up against its abdomen, and its ribs stood out starkly through its thin flesh. Ling knelt and reached out a hand to stroke the poor thing. It scooted up against her immediately, whining, nudging and licking her hand. She reached into her bag and pulled out a chunk of hardened cheese. She held it out to the dog. He took it gently, surprisingly so considering his obvious state of near starvation. Once well away from her hand he scarfed the chunk of cheese quickly.
She looked up at the others from where she crouched. The dog came back to her, sitting quietly as she stroked him soothingly. “They have strays here?” She asked.
“Never,” Celene answered. “Never.”
