The Ship of Tears: (The Legend of the Nine: Part One) (The Eastern Kingdom Chronicles Book 8)

by T. J. Garrett

  Two of the smaller boys were already crying. Morn put a hand on their shoulder. “Don’t you worry,” he said. “Just stay with me. There are nice folk on the island, they’ll take good care of you. All will be well, I promise.”

  He gave the boys what he hoped was a reassuring smile. To himself, he said, You had best be there, Sansi. I can’t look after seven children on my own.

  Morn stood. Regarding Rommy, he said, “Are you going to help, or stand there asking your questions?”

  “All right,” Rommy said, “I’ll help, but you can start explaining what you did, and how it is you knew we were going to crash into the island.”

  “If you insist,” Morn said. “But let’s get everyone off the ship before the cook fires burn it down.”

  “Is there a fire?” one of the younger boys asked. “Are we going to die?”

  That started the two youngest boys crying again.

  Morn cursed his big mouth. “I didn’t say that, but we do have to hurry. Up the stairs. You first, Rommy.”

  It took all of Morn’s dwindling strength to carry two of the younger children across the gap at the top of the stairs. When they were on the landing, he told everyone to wait while he made sure it was safe to go into the kitchen.

  “No, I’m not leaving you,” he told Rommy. “Just wait with the others. It’s too dark to see, and I don’t want us all running into a big hole in the floor.”

  The way the ship was tilting, the chore boys and the two girls had to huddle against the railing. If the wood there were to break, they would end up back in the stores, only with broken legs and arms. It might not be any safer to wait, but Morn had to make sure the kitchen was not on fire before he let the others see – he did not want the younger ones panicking and running back down the stairs.

  The kitchen was a mess; the tables and chairs had slid against one wall, but the fire was against the back wall, and, as yet, the coals had not rolled out onto the floor. They would, if the ship were to list any further to port, but for now, the problem they faced was not that of fire, it was the two Kel’mau guards who were trying to cross the kitchen.

  The guards were likely heading the same way Morn wanted to take his group, to the hatch – on that area of the kitchen deck, the hatch was the quickest way out.

  Morn crouched by the door frame and made a shushing sound at the chore boys.

  “What is it?” Rommy asked, far too loudly for Morn’s liking.

  “Be quiet,” he whispered. “Wait for them to go.”

  “Wait for who to go? Are there guards in there?”

  Rommy lunged forward. Grabbing the door frame, he shouted, “Guards! Here, we are here. Help us!”

  The guard at the front, who was busy pulling himself around the kitchen wall on his way to the other door, glanced at Rommy. He gave a mirthless chuckle, then shook his head. “Help yourself, boy. We got more pressing concerns than saving a bunch of kitchen slaves.”

  “But, Eryk,” Rommy said, pointing at Morn. “He knew we were going to crash.”

  At that, the guard halted in his struggle. “Oh, did he now? And how would you know that, boy?” he asked Morn.

  “I-I saw the island through the porthole. I knew we were going to crash,” Morn said.

  “No he didn’t. He told us to hide long before that. He knew, I tell you.”

  Sounds of fighting echoed through the hall. There was a shout of “To arms,” and “We are boarded, defend the ship.”

  Rommy, his eyes wide, glared at Morn. Stabbing a finger in his direction, he’s said, “He’s working with them.”

  Morn felt his eyes close, a choking sense of dread suddenly dried his mouth. He looked at the younger children, then at the stairs. He could run, make his way to the aft castle and escape through there. For that matter, he could jump down to the storeroom and then climb up the rope they used to lower crates into the hold. Without the children to slow him down, he could be off the ship in a matter of minutes.

  And what would you say to Sansi? That you could not find the children? Would you be a liar as well as a coward?

  For an instant, the safe place in the back of his mind was winning the argument – better a living coward than a dead hero – but what happened next made up his mind for him.

  From somewhere, a full bottle of lamp oil rolled into the fire. The flash of yellow flame engulfed the two Kel’mau, setting light to the shelves above the hearth. The fire seemed to roll along the floor, and before Morn could pull him away, Rommy’s trousers were on fire.

  “Put it out,” the boy cried. He let go of the door frame and slid across the wooden boards to the rail where the other children were waiting. He hit the rail with a thud, breaking two of the runners. Still frantically patting his burning trousers, Rommy seemed not to notice the upright to his left slowly coming away from the wall.

  “Grab him!” Morn shouted.

  But it was too late. The rail gave way, and Rommy, screaming, fell through the gap and into what was left of the storeroom.

  Morn slid across the landing. Looking down, he could tell Rommy had hit his head on a crate – his blood and hair were all over the sharp corner. The other children were yelling. “Is he dead?” one of them said, while another mumbled, “We’re all going to die.”

  “No we are not,” Morn told him. “Come, we have to go through the kitchen.”

  “But it’s on fire,” one of the girls said.

  Morn, who had been looking down at the obviously dead Rommy, glanced over his shoulder. She was right, of course; the kitchen was a mass of leaping flames. They would not be going up.

  “We’ll have to go back,” he said. “Work our way along the machine deck to the aft castle.”

  “But we’re not allowed on the machine deck,” the girl told him.

  “I think they are past worrying about that,” Morn told her. “Come on, the sooner we start, the sooner we can find a way out.”

  He was about to start back down the stairs, when he heard a shout.

  “Not that way,” a female voice said. “Through here.”

  Turning back to the kitchen, Morn saw Livvy crabbing her way across the smouldering floor.

  What was she doing? Was she trying to help them escape.

  No, she’s a guard, Morn told himself. She must have been with the other two.

  But if that were true, why was she making her way back into kitchen instead of heading for the passage?

  “Are you just going to stand there?” Livvy said. “Hurry; the stairs won’t stay clear for much longer.”

  “But, the kitchen, it’s on fire,” Morn said.

  “I know it is,” Livvy said. “Who do you think threw the oil lamp. Now hurry.”

  “You started the fire?” Morn said, incredulous. “But they were your men. And what about Rommy?”

  “If I hadn’t, they would have killed you and left the children down here. Now, will you please shut up and get over here?”

  “I want to go with the woman,” the little kitchen maid said.

  “So do I,” one of the boys said.

  Morn had to laugh; all that effort, risking his life to save those children, and they wanted to go with the woman. Oh well, at least he was not on his own.

  * * *

  Crasindra choked as thick smoke filled the passage under the tower. She would have to go back, enter the machine room through the conduit, which would likely mean a climb.

  The ship was leaning heavily to starboard. So much so, it was a wonder the tower had not collapsed. It would, soon, Crasindra knew. And if it did not collapse from the strain, another ten minutes, and the fire would do the job.

  The sores on her neck were bleeding. It was all Crasindra could do not to scratch them. Her eyes were itching from the smoke, she could hardly breathe, and too dark to see more than arm’s length in front of her.

  She mumbled a curse; if her beautiful ship burned down, she would find Elspeth and tear her skin off one strip at a time.

  The conduit room was
well-lit. Crasindra was surprised to see many of the wet witches were still at their post, feeding the machine. With all that was going on, she had expected they would be long gone.

  It’s the machine, she told herself. Even now, it won’t let them leave.

  And just as well, she thought. For had they left, there would be no hope of forming a tunnel.

  Still, she tried her best not to disturb the witches as she made her way across the conduit room toward the stairs which led down to the machine. She would have to hurry if she wanted to be gone before fire forces those women away.

  * * *

  “Can’t we go any faster?” Elspeth asked.

  York raised one eyebrow. “You could get out and swim,” he said.

  The ship had run aground ten minutes ago, and still they were a quarter mile from the island. At this rate, Anooni and Olivia will have boarded while she was still in the boat.

  After the wave had hit the island, the backwash had carried their little rowboat toward Raff. Now, Elspeth was approaching the wreck from the south. The mist had lifted, the three-quarter moon was out, and she could see the Tower Ship in all its gruesome glory.

  The ship was vast, easily as big as any five ships Elspeth had ever seen in Halem Bay. The bow – now mostly on the beach – was a round mass of crumbled wood. The black tower, once the only thing she could see from their camp above the village, seemed alive with vines and crawling ivy, but Elspeth did not think those winding strands were of any plant she knew. There was a big hole in the starboard side, but the stern seemed intact, save that rear-most of the ships three huge castles was cracked and leaning against the tower. There was no sign of the crew, or the wet witches, but she could hear shouts and the clang of steel on steel.

  “Sorry,” Elspeth told York. “Just… Fast as you can, please, my friends are fighting over there.”

  “As are mine,” York said. “But fear not, I’m sure they will save some of the battle for us.”

  “I’d as soon there were no battle,” Elspeth said. “I want to get those women away from there before the tower collapses.”

  She remembered what Morn had said about the conduit room taking up most of the lower level of the tower. If it collapsed while they were still inside, there would be no getting them out. And if the ship rolled back and sank….

  If that thought were not bad enough, Elspeth saw smoke rising from the forecastle, where Morn had said the kitchens were.

  Fire or drowning or blown up by exploding gas, Elspeth told herself. Come on men, row faster!

  Finally, the four volunteers pulled the boat up onto the coarse sand. Immediately, Elspeth saw Olivia by the ship’s bow. Anooni was with her, along with Nini, Trapper, and what was left of the ten volunteers.

  Nini and Olivia were shouting about something.

  “Has anyone gone in after them?” Elspeth said. “The women, the witches, are they still in there?”

  “Juran and his rebels are in there,” Nini said. “As for the rest of us, we are just discussing how best to deploy.”

  Olivia scoffed. “What he means is, he refuses to allow us onto the ship. Says it is too dangerous.”

  “But what about the women?” Elspeth said, annoyed.

  She had no time for their arguments, the ship was on fire, the tower tilting dangerously to starboard, and the gods alone knew what might happen if the machine was damaged. She had to get the women off the ship and away from the island. They should start ferrying folk back to Raff. At the very least, they should move to the other side of the small island, put the forest between themselves and the machine.

  “Don’t you think I’ve told him that. He refuses to—”

  “There is no point risking yourself. My men and Juran’s rebels can evacuate the women.”

  Elspeth threw her hands up in the air. “But you’re not evacuating the women, are you? You’re standing here shouting over who should board the ship. Has anyone heard from Morn? Has anyone thought to bring the other boats around from the northern bay? Have you done anything but argue? No, of course you haven’t. You are too concerned over putting women in danger,” she stabbed a finger toward Olivia, “and you are too intent on making your point. Now stop all your childishness and get on that bloody ship!”

  Olivia stared at her. She seemed hurt by the accusation. “I’m not trying to make a point. I simply refuse to stand here while others risk themselves on a mission I began.”

  “You did not begin this mission,” Nini said. “Juran was on his way north even before Madam Olpany told him we were coming. His men have been here for some—”

  “That is enough!” Elspeth shouted. Then, turning to Chrissa – the princess’s bodyguard seemed happy to let the others to argue; anything to keep Olivia out of danger, Elspeth supposed – turning to Chrissa, she said, “Help me up to that hole. I’m going in.”

  “Elspeth, no!” Nini said.

  He made a grab for her elbow, but Elspeth spun away.

  “Do not force me to fight you, Lieutenant. This is my job, I have to save those women.”

  Nini ignored the comment. Again, he tried to grab her elbow.

  Elspeth backed away. She raised her hand and made a haba spell. Picking up a handful of sand, she said, “I said, let me do my job, Lieutenant. Or do you want to spend the next hour picking sand out of your ears?”

  Olivia gasped. “That is not necessary, Elspeth. Put that down.”

  “I don’t have time to argue,” Elspeth said. “Chrissa, will you help me up, or do I have to climb up there on my own?”

  Chrissa shrugged, then started for the hole in the hull.

  It was Nini’s turn to throw his hands in the air. “All right, we will all go. But me first. At least give me that.”

  Olivia smiled, and Nini stormed off to the gap in the hull, signalling the volunteers to follow.

  “I swear,” he said, “if you get yourself killed, I’ll…”

  He said more, but Elspeth was not listening.

  The smoke, which had been a single plume, had filled the sky above the beach. So thick was it, Elspeth could barely see the tower. She could not see flames, but the fire inside the ship must be vast to make all that much smoke.

  Elspeth took Chrissa’s arm. “Come with me,” she said.

  “Why? Where are we going.”

  Elspeth grabbed the rope out of the rowboat and handed it to Chrissa. “I’m going to lift you up onto those rocks. Climb up on deck, then throw the rope down.”

  “You’re going to what?” Chrissa said. She was staring at the point where the ship had hit the rocks. About two paces from the bow, a particularly high outcrop was almost level with the deck. A strong person could jump the gap easily, but Elspeth did not think it was the span wide leap that had Chrissa worried. “Why me? Can’t you pick yourself up?”

  That was a good question; Elspeth had never thought of that. It was certainly an interesting thought, but this was no time to experiment. “Just stand over there, and keep your arms to your side,” she told the bodyguard.

  Chrissa frowned, but did as she was told.

  “Have you tried lifting something that big?” Olivia said.

  “No,” Elspeth admitted, “but Nerys said, as long as the weight is less than my own, the size of the object should not matter.”

  “I’m not sure you are heavier than Chrissa,” Olivia said. “What will happen if you are the lighter?”

  “We’ll find out in a few seconds,” Elspeth said.

  Ignoring the flutter of nerves in her stomach, Elspeth gathered the Earth and Water she would need to lift Chrissa. Once set, she focused on the target, on where she wanted Chrissa to land. Hand raised, Elspeth reached out for the bodyguard. She felt the weight immediately. Her own feet sank into the coarse sand. There was no sensation of lifting, none of that aching in the muscles, but she did feel a pressure on her spine and knees – the downward force was there, but it took no effort to lift the other woman.

  Chrissa made an extremely girlish sq
ueak as she rose up into the air. When she was level with the top of the rock, Elspeth carefully moved her back a pace, and as soon as she did, she felt the urge to take a step forward, lest she would fall on her face.

  Olivia grabbed her arm. “Careful,” the princess said. “I don’t want you dropping my bodyguard.”

  Slowly as she could, Elspeth lowered her hand, and was pleased to see Chrissa landing softly on top of the rocks. As soon as she let the woman go, Elspeth had to fight the urge to fall away, as if she had been climbing the stairs while carrying a heavy load that simply was not there anymore.

  “I’m up,” Chrissa shouted. “You can let—”

  “I have let you go,” Elspeth shouted back. “Quickly, jump on deck and throw the rope down.”

  Chrissa followed her instruction, then tied the rope off one of the thick newels that made the bow rail.

  “Do you want to go first,” Elspeth asked the princes.

  Olivia laughed. “Yes, I’ll go first.” She took up the rope, then, looking over her shoulder, she said, “Just wait until I tell Nerys what you have been doing with her spells. She’ll have you eating soap and scrubbing the floor.”

  Elspeth ignored the comment, and when Olivia was near the top, she grabbed the rope.

  Something tugged on her sleeve.

  Looking down, Elspeth saw Trapper’s pleading eyes gazing up at her.

  “Not this time, boy,” she said. “You wait here. I won’t be long.”

  Trapper whined, and Elspeth had to swallow back a sob. “I know,” she said. “I will be back soon, I promise.”

  * * *

  Karloth opened his eyes, then immediately wondered who had hit him, and with what. Rubbing his temples, he sat up. He was at the bottom of the stairs outside the door to the machine room? How long had he been there? Was he about to do something?

  You were going to find Zill, he reminded himself. Find her, and get her off this cursed boat.