Daybreak

by Shae Ford

  Rua’s crackling voice shook the ground beneath his boots. Kael rushed over to Kyleigh and pressed his hand against her flank, trying to listen.

  … will not wear that skin in my presence. It is a mockery of one who was dear to me.

  “What’s he talking about?” he hissed as Kyleigh slipped into her human skin.

  The fires in her eyes whipped about as she stared at the red dragon. “Nothing. He’s mad.”

  You do not understand the depths of my anger, Rua rumbled back — though Kael was fairly certain she’d meant the other sort of madness. You live only because I wish you to know how you’ve hurt us. I wish you to remember everything you’ve done, so that the stain of your cowardly act may never fade from your eyes.

  “So says the dragon who sent his mate after us. You ought to think twice before crying coward,” Kael said back, his blood burning hot. “Were you too afraid to come face me yourself? Didn’t want another scar, did you?”

  Molten scales flared to life across Rua’s muzzle. His wings snapped open with enough force to roll several rocks off the side of the cliff. I will face you now, human! I will tear your face from your skull —! No, his eyes widened and he pulled back from His-Rua suddenly. No, my heart. It will hurt you.

  Then hold it carefully. Do not let it overcome you, she growled.

  His great head dipped in a nod, and the fire in his face went out. I sent My-Rua to you because I knew you would not harm her. We males only quarrel with each other. But now she has led you here, into a mountain filled with males. If I fall to your magic, they will have you torn apart before you cast again.

  Kael felt the weight of their glowing eyes upon him: the dragons down the mountain rumbled their warnings while Rua’s daughters peered tentatively over the boulder. Even if he’d had magic, he didn’t like his chances.

  Kyleigh’s hand tightened around his. “Look, I honestly can’t remember what I’ve done to you. There’s much about my life — my lives — that’s lost to me. It often happens during the … change.”

  Kael stayed still. She was admitting this to him as much as she was to Rua. Though she’d never said it aloud, he’d already guessed.

  “The thing you asked of me … it’s gone, faded away. I can’t remember, and keeping me trapped on this island isn’t going to help.”

  It might come back in time, Rua growled.

  Kyleigh set her jaw tightly, though her voice was strained: “Whatever I’ve done, I’m sorry for it. I can’t offer you any more than that. There’s a war in our homelands, and our companions need us.”

  Men are always at war, Rua muttered, without an ounce of concern. His monstrous head tilted to the side. What do you wish, My-Rua? Ask, and it shall be yours.

  Kael felt his mouth drop open. The white dragon watched him intently — and he couldn’t help but think that her eyes weren’t nearly as kind as they’d been before.

  Something dangerous burst within them for a moment. Her muscles coiled and swelled. Kael took a half step forward. He wasn’t sure what he would do if His-Rua charged, but she would have to go through him to get to Kyleigh. Fortunately, that didn’t happen.

  Rua pressed his muzzle into her cheek, and the fires went out. Her eyes were wide and calm once more when she replied: For the halved one to remember what she has done would be punishment enough. When she comes to us with both of her names, we’ll lead her to them. Then she will be free to go.

  You’ve heard my mate. Do not step back into my presence until you remember.

  The crackling in Rua’s voice had grown into a steady growl. When his eyes snapped open, Kael’s breath caught in his throat.

  His-Rua hadn’t calmed. Her fury was still there, every flame still burning bright — but they burned inside Rua’s eyes now. It was his muscles that coiled, his teeth that bared. And when he spoke again, his voice shook the mountains:

  Leave us — now!

  CHAPTER 30

  Shipwrecked

  They were only a few miles outside of Harborville, now. And it couldn’t have come at a better time.

  The moment Lysander gave the order to halt, Shamus plunked down hard. There were blisters on the sides of his feet and holes worn into the creases of his boots. Though pebbles had been rattling around their soles for days, he was afraid to take them off.

  He didn’t want to think about what his skin might look like underneath.

  “Seas men weren’t made for hiking around,” he grumbled as he sat. The ache dropped from his legs and went to pound at the tips of his toes. He groaned against it.

  They’d spent several clouded days and long, damp nights trekking through the spiny woods along the shore. The air only got colder the further they went. The pirates’ hair and clothes were salt-crusted, their boots squeaked as they dragged their bodies across the hills. Not a one of them said much of anything: they sat down atop rocks and bits of fallen trees, mumbling curses as they peeled off their boots.

  Lysander marched away from them and went to stand beside Shamus. He glared at the horizon like it’d cheated him. “It’s been days, now. There hasn’t been so much as a flash of light or a wisp of flame behind us.”

  “Isn’t that a good thing, Captain?”

  “Perhaps,” he whispered, his mouth gone taut. “Whatever was after us has obviously given up … but it’s still out there. I get chills just thinking about where it might be going next. Scout ahead, dogs,” he called behind him. “I think we’ve gone far enough, for today. See if you can’t find us somewhere with fewer blasted rocks to make camp.”

  The pirates shuffled off with a muttering of ayes.

  Shamus knew all too well what’d been after them. It’d started to haunt him the moment he saw the flames. He waited until the pirates had wandered out of earshot before he growled: “It was those blasted mages again — I know it was. They’re always tearing across the seas, dragging decent men to early graves. My bones start trembling any time there’s a mage around.”

  “Perhaps if they’d started trembling sooner, I’d still have my ship,” Lysander muttered.

  “Just because you’re bitter about the Witch doesn’t mean every mage in the Kingdom decided to drop spells on our heads.” Jonathan’s dark hair was wilder than usual: stiff with salt and poking up at every angle. “What could the mages possibly want with us?”

  “If they can make a storm pop up out of nothing, then they can call down fire from the sky,” Shamus insisted. “Whoever it was is probably trying to trap us inland. Oh, I don’t want to be a fish again! I can feel the scales coming back …”

  Jonathan rolled his eyes while Shamus scratched at the sudden itch that’d sprung up across his arms. “No one’s going to turn us into fish. It was probably some fiery boulder launched from shore. Two treetops says it was Alders trying to make more coin off of us.”

  “It was mages, I tell you! Listen to you, gabbing on about flaming catapults when it was very clearly magic! And they don’t need a reason to spell anybody, I’ll have you know. They just hex and curse wherever they ple —”

  “I’m a coward!” Lysander wailed — so suddenly that Jonathan leapt back with a yelp. “I’m a spineless, shipless coward! I can’t go into Harborville like this. What will my dogs think of me? How could anybody ever listen to a captain with no ship?”

  “Hold on there — you’ve still got a ship. We’ve just got to march ourselves into Harborville and get her back.” Shamus tried to be gentle with it, but Lysander seemed beyond consoling.

  “I don’t deserve to sail her! I’ve got no right … I should’ve just drowned and been done with it.” He sank down upon the nearest rock, burying his face in his arms.

  “Poor Captain,” Shamus whispered.

  Jonathan frowned as a noise that sounded suspiciously like blubbering emanated from the crooks of Lysander’s arms. “I don’t know, mate. Maybe the rules are there for a reason.”

  “Don’t be a codpiece about it. The poor man lost half his heart in that fire.”


  “And all of his marbles,” Jonathan muttered under his breath.

  Shamus glared at him before he crouched beside Lysander. “I know you’re hurting, Captain. But we’re not far from Harborville. It’ll be a day’s walk at most. There’ll be a ship and a crew waiting for you —”

  “Yes, one I can’t do anything about. All of my gold is melted and sunk at the bottom of the seas. If we set foot in Harborville, we’ll be at Alders’ mercy.”

  “If only there was some way to rescue it without paying for it,” Jonathan whispered loudly as he turned to stare into the distance. “Hmm, there’s a word for this. It’s right on the tip of my —”

  “You aren’t helping things,” Shamus growled. He clapped one thick hand on Lysander’s shoulder, jolting him mid-blubber. “I’m sure Alders will be reasonable once he hears what’s happened. He’ll never get his coin if he keeps us locked away. And that doesn’t seem like a very sensible thing for a merchant. What do you say we straighten up and have a chat with him, Captain?”

  Lysander raised his head. He dragged a filthy sleeve across his eyes and muttered: “Very well. I suppose we don’t have much choice, do we? Perceval and his lot are probably already at Harborville, spreading nasty rumors. We might as well —”

  “Captain!” One of the pirates bounded over the craggy rocks, eyes wild and sword in hand. “You’d better come quick, Captain. Things are about to get thick.”

  Lysander followed him at a run. Jonathan loped behind him and Shamus tried to keep up. The running jostled his poor feet so badly that he wound up moving at more a hop than anything. But at least he managed to keep his pace.

  They tore through the thorny brush and out into an open stretch of shore. The cliffs beside them dropped straight into the seas. Another outcrop of woods lay ahead. The pirates stood in an arch near the shore’s edge, blades drawn and glinting at the trees.

  By the time Shamus followed Lysander to the front of the line, he was out of breath — otherwise he might’ve sworn at the sight that lay before them.

  A company of stony-eyed soldiers were gathered at the edge of the woods. They wore gold-tinged armor and kept their spears leveled at the pirates. The man at their lead held a thick set of chains in his hand, chains that linked to the shackles of the merchant beside him.

  Shamus recognized Perceval immediately. There weren’t many fellows with eyes that stuck out like a frog’s, and they only got wider at the sight of Lysander. He thrust a stubby finger at them and shrieked: “There he is! That’s their leader. I told you there was a band of outlaws roaming around. My crew and I are nothing but honest merchants,” he went on, pleading with the man who held his chains. “If you let us go, we’ll be no trouble at all … or if you could just let me go —”

  “Shut it.”

  A robed man slunk out of the crowd and stood on Perceval’s other side. He kept one hand draped against the twisting black dragon etched into his robes, and in the other he clutched a slender dagger.

  “So these are the pirates, are they? Well, they certainly don’t look like much,” he mused, his gaze sweeping across them. “Nevertheless, I’m afraid you’re going to have to come with us. His Majesty has commanded that all outlaws be questioned, and summarily executed.”

  Shamus didn’t like the sound of that. “I’ll bet it has more to do with red-hot pokers than actual questions,” he muttered out the side of his mouth.

  “Or finger clamps,” Jonathan added. “Or thumb screws.”

  “They won’t be taking us anywhere,” Lysander growled. He drew his sword and its strange, patch-worked blade glinted dangerously in the sunlight. “I carry the Lass of Sam Gravy — we can’t be beaten!”

  The robed man looked about to reply. But Perceval’s squealing cut over the top of his words.

  “I’m not an outlaw, and I won’t be treated like one! I demand to be released.” His eyes seemed about to pop as he tugged against the soldier’s grip. “Let me g — ah!”

  The robed man tapped the dagger against Perceval’s chest, and the whole thing caved in with a sickening crunch — as if some great beast had gone and stomped him with its heel. Red leaked from between Perceval’s lips. The soldier didn’t even look as his body crumpled: he simply opened his hand and let the chains fall with the corpse.

  The mage, on the other hand, grinned down at it.

  “How do you like our odds now, Captain?” Jonathan said stiffly.

  Lysander’s face went taut. “Not nearly as well.”

  *******

  “I told you it was mages!” Shamus fumed. He rattled the irons clamped around his wrist in Jonathan’s face. “Any strange happenings, anything goes amiss, and it’s always a mage’s doing.”

  “You’re lucky my arms went numb an hour ago, or I’d swat you,” Jonathan retorted. While the rest of the pirates sat miserably in their chains, the fiddler hung upside down by the clamps around his ankles.

  “I warned you not to fight,” Lysander muttered.

  Jonathan twisted to glare at him. “Well, somebody had to put up a fight! And since you were too busy moping, I thought I’d do it. You’d better find your gall, Captain,” he added vehemently. “You saw what they did to Percy. It won’t be long before they start busting up our ribs one at a time.”

  “Mages,” Shamus hissed. A sudden chill shook him to his bones.

  Lysander, on the other hand, didn’t do much of anything. It wasn’t like him to let Jonathan have the last word. But he slumped against the wall and stared at the ceiling like none of that mattered anymore. There wasn’t so much as a spark in his eyes.

  His stare was as worn and dull as the soles of their boots.

  Granted, there wasn’t much to smile about. From what Shamus could gather, it sounded as if Midlan had marched into Harborville a couple of weeks ago. Alders must’ve given it up without much of a fight: the shops and houses were all intact, and most of the villagers stayed on as slaves. They’d hardly glanced up from their chores when the pirates tromped in — which made Shamus think they weren’t the first ship to be captured.

  But oddly enough, there wasn’t a sign of Anchorgloam, or any of the other vessels that’d been trapped at the docks. Shamus didn’t like to think about it, but he wagered Midlan had already gotten to them. They’d be halfway to the chancellor’s island castle, if that were the case. The seas would carry the King’s army much faster than any march across land.

  And they’d be out for blood.

  “We’ll get there, Captain,” Shamus said, though he wasn’t certain anymore. “I know it all seems a bit grim right now, but we’ll figure a way out of here. There’s no one I’d rather be locked up with than a whole band of pirates. I wager you lads have gotten …”

  He stopped when a pair of heavy footsteps rattled dust from the ceiling. A creaky trap door snapped open above them, flooding the room with light.

  “All right, who’s first?”

  “Do the tree rat,” a soldier growled, crouching to fix the slits of his helmet onto Jonathan. There was a bloodied rag wrapped around one of his hands, and he held it gingerly against his chest. “That whelp nearly bit my finger off.”

  “And I’d do it again!” the fiddler declared. “If I were you, I’d find myself a thick pair of gloves and drop my visor.”

  “No, there’s no point in questioning him. He’s a madman,” Lysander called when the soldier stormed down the ladder.

  His helmet swung around. “Is that so? Then maybe I ought to pound some answers out of you.”

  Lysander shrugged. “There’s absolutely no point in that. The King already knows everything, I’m sure — about what happened to Reginald, where Gilderick is, how the Baron’s castle got blown to bits. I’m sure he’s even figured out about Titus, by now.”

  The soldier dragged Lysander to his feet by his tunic. “You know an awful lot, pirate.”

  “I suppose I listen awful well.”

  “Is that it?” The soldier’s voice dropped to a dangerous level. “Or did
you have a hand in all this?”

  Lysander grinned widely. “All of what?”

  The soldier glared a moment more before he hurled Lysander to the ladder. “March. We’ll have you singing by sunrise.”

  The soldier at the top of the ladder dragged Lysander by his tunic, while the man behind him drove him up with a knee. There was some laughter as the trapdoor slammed, then a meaty thud — followed by a gasp.

  “We’ve got to do something,” Shamus said as the footsteps went out the door.

  “Right. Well, I’d hoped it wouldn’t come to this, but I suppose we’ve got no other choice.” Jonathan twisted to lock eyes with Shamus. “You’re going to have to get my lucky lockpick.”

  Shamus was more than a little surprised. He thought for certain that Midlan had taken all of Jonathan’s picks. They’d spent a good deal of the afternoon digging them out of his coat pockets and from patches on his sleeves. He’d had so many wedged beneath his boot buckles that they’d finally just tossed them off the cliffs.

  “Most people don’t think to check your boots,” Jonathan insisted when Shamus asked. “But I’ve got one more stashed away — tucked in a place I knew they wouldn’t search.”

  His grimace made Shamus leaned back. “And where is that, exactly?”

  “Someplace no man would ever look.”

  “Oh, for the love of seas and serpents, lad!”

  Jonathan twisted around, “I need your help. It’s sewn in right between my —”

  “I know where it’s sewn!” Shamus cut in. “And you can forget it. I’m not reaching in under there.”

  By now, all eyes were upon them. The pirates were beginning to snicker.

  “You’ve got to, mate.” Jonathan’s face was serious. “I’d do it myself, but I’ve been hanging upside down for so long that my arms are too numb to split the thread.”

  “You are the only one who can reach him,” one of the pirates called.