Harbinger

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Harbinger Page 43

by Shae Ford


  “Your pendant.”

  Reginald pulled the solid gold medal over his head and slapped it into Chaucer’s palm. “You’re probably going to melt it into coin the second you get the chance.”

  Chaucer smirked, but said nothing. He passed the medal off to one of his cronies, and it disappeared among his coat pockets.

  “I’ve signed your bloody contract, now set me free!” Reginald snapped.

  “One moment, please.” Lysander strolled into the room. His hair was even more tangled than it had been before and a good amount of Aerilyn’s lip paint stained his neck. “I have some questions for the former Duke. It’s about the slave trade.”

  Chaucer made a disgusted sound. “Slavery? Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “Yes,” Reginald said, his eyes hard. “There hasn’t been a slave in the Kingdom for three centuries. Everyone knows that.”

  “The young people taking refuge in my hold would say otherwise,” Lysander countered.

  Reginald sneered. “Well I’m sorry, but I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  All at once, Kyleigh broke from the shadows. She grabbed the back of Reginald’s chair and dragged him across the room, only stopping when she had him against the wardrobe.

  “What are you doing?” he said as she walked away. He squirmed against his bonds but couldn’t wriggle free. “You swore I’d have my life, Chaucer! You swore!”

  “I’m not going to kill you,” she said. She stood next to Kael, their shoulders touching. “My friend here is fairly good at sniffing out falsehoods. So I’m going to ask you a question. And if he thinks you’re lying … he’s going to throw a knife.”

  Reginald’s jaw locked down. The whites showed around his eyes.

  “Tell us about the slave trade.”

  “I know nothing about any slaves!”

  Kael threw a knife. It whistled through the air and thudded into the wardrobe — a hair from the top of Reginald’s head. He moaned, and his face shone with sweat.

  “Why are you selling the people of the High Seas to Lord Gilderick?”

  Reginald licked his lips. His eyes were wild, but still defiant. “I’m not.” He shuddered when the next blade landed beside his throat. “I know you won’t kill me!” he screamed through gritted teeth. “That whelp is a whisperer — he can’t miss!”

  Kyleigh inclined her head. “True.” She nudged Kael with her elbow. “What does a man with no title need with two ears?”

  “You know, I can’t think of a reason —”

  “Stop!” Reginald cried, just as he was preparing to make his throw. Sweat dripped off his chin and stained the gold threads of his shirt. “I admit it — I was selling slaves to Gilderick.”

  Chaucer snarled and the other merchants broke out in heated whispers. They glared a hole through Reginald as he stammered on.

  “I don’t know what he wanted them for, probably to tend his blasted fields. All I know is that he paid me well. The logbook is in my office, in the top drawer of my desk. It has everything recorded: how many males and females I traded, the dates they were traded on, the dates of future trades — it’s all there!” he finished. His eyes went back to Chaucer. “So now you know. I’ve told you everything. I demand that you honor the terms of the contract and set me free!”

  After a long, icy silence, Chaucer nodded to two merchants at his side. They untied Reginald’s bonds, but kept him held between them.

  “Set me free!” he demanded again.

  Chaucer’s face was unreadable. “The terms of the contract said only that you would be allowed to live out your days in peace — it mentioned nothing about freedom. Take him to the dungeon.”

  They could hear Reginald’s boots scraping the floor the whole way down the hall. He screamed and threatened them with brutal deaths until a heavy door slammed shut, cutting him off mid-rant.

  “Let’s go find that book,” Lysander said quietly, while the merchants were occupied. And they followed him out the door.

  *******

  When they made it up to the Duke’s office, one of the merchants was already rummaging through the desk. He pulled out a rough, leather bound book and stuffed it hastily into his coat pocket.

  “Now see here,” Lysander said as he marched up to him. “If we’re going to stop the trade, we’re going to have to read —”

  “That book is the property of the merchants,” Chaucer said from behind them. He pushed past Lysander, took the logbook and planted it inside his own coat.

  While they argued about who had the right to read what, Kael watched Kyleigh. She’d discovered Bloodfang’s body next to the window. She knelt down in front of him and closed his eyes with her fingertips. Her head was bent, strands of dark hair hid her face.

  “No, I’m going to destroy it,” Chaucer barked. He was standing chest to chest with Lysander. They looked like a pair of bucks sparring over territory. “We’ll hold the vote for high chancellor within the month — and I can’t let nasty rumors like slavery affect my bid!”

  “Blast your bid!” Lysander snapped back. “These are innocent people we’re talking about, our people!”

  Chaucer snorted. “Your people are murderers and thieves. Mine are the masons of society — and I’ll not risk their lives to attack the Endless Plains. You do know that’s what it would take, don’t you? A full-fledged war with Gilderick and his army of giants. No,” he held up a firm hand, “I’ll not risk it. The seas have only just got the wind back in her sails. We haven’t the army to face Gilderick, not while we’re nearly rotted out the bottoms, ourselves.” He held out his hand. “Your services are no longer required, Captain. Take your rats back to their nest.”

  Lysander seemed on the verge of cracking him across the face. But at the last moment, he relented. With a heavy sigh, he took Chaucer’s hand. “So that’s it, then?”

  “Most definitely. If I see your face again, I’ll be sure and put a dagger through it.”

  “I trust you’ll give me two days peace?”

  Chaucer smirked. “One. And that’s entirely too generous.”

  He gestured for his men to leave the room and shooed Lysander out behind them. Kael brought up the rear. Chaucer stopped in the doorway and glared over his shoulder at Kyleigh, who was still crouched in front of Bloodfang.

  “What’s she doing?” he said with narrowed eyes.

  At this point, Kael was so fed up with Chaucer that he could no longer control himself. He shoved him hard in the back and sent him stumbling out into the hallway. Then he slammed the door, barring it with crossed arms.

  “Just what do you think you’re —?”

  “Move,” Kael snapped.

  Chaucer blinked, then frowned. In the end, he seemed to think better of challenging a whisperer. He turned and stomped down the hall instead, swearing under his breath at every step.

  Kael waited until he was gone before he opened the door. The window was shattered — Kyleigh and Bloodfang were gone. He closed the door quietly and left to rejoin the pirates.

  *******

  “You done it, lad!” Morris was waiting for him at the helm. The minute Kael got within range, he slapped him across the back. His arm was so covered in goo that it stuck to his shirt. “Sorry about that,” he said as he pulled free. “That blasted mage took us all for a trip.”

  “At least I managed to get it fanned back,” Jake muttered. He nodded to the west, where the fog was slowly drifting out to sea.

  “What will happen when it strikes land?” Kael wondered.

  Morris shrugged. “There isn’t a thing in the Westlands but monsters and barren ground. That’s where the Kings used to send the worst villains in the realm. They’d pack them up and ship them off with a doomed captain and his crew.”

  Kael waited until Morris went to tend to other things before he slipped the remnants of Bartimus’s impetus to Jake.

  “What’s — oh.” He turned the gold disk over in his hand, his eyes narrowed. “You killed him, then?”

&
nbsp; “Yes.”

  “Good. I was hoping he wouldn’t manage to crawl away.” He slipped the disk into his pocket and held out his hand. “Thank you. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay your kindness.”

  “It was a gift,” Kael said, which made Jake smile.

  Not surprisingly, Jonathan managed to pilfer several bottles of wine from the ballroom. He drank from one as if it was a flask. “Slayer of witches, toppler of thrones,” he said as he stumbled into Kael. “Here, have a nip of His Former Dukeness’s finest wine!” And proceeded to pour it down his collar.

  Every pirate aboard Anchorgloam stepped up to congratulate him. They shook his hands and ruffled his hair, offered him tankards of grog and plates of whatever delicacies they’d nicked from the ball. By the time he made it through the crowd, his ears were rattling from all the good-natured pats on the back.

  Lysander and Aerilyn stood at the front of the ship, dancing to no music whatsoever. Her hair was loose and her face paint was divided between them in equal smears.

  When she saw Kael, she threw her arms around his neck. “You were brilliant!” she said into his hair. “I don’t know what I would’ve done, had the pair of you not arrived when you did. Reginald was getting very pushy,” she added, wrinkling her nose.

  “Yes, and what’s happened to our favorite halfdragon?” Lysander said, craning his neck above the revelers. “Has she run off?” When he caught Kael’s nod, his face softened. “Don’t worry your head over it — to leave is in her nature. But she always comes back.”

  He didn’t want to talk about Kyleigh. The wound in his chest was still too fresh. He wanted to shove his worry aside and find something else to occupy him. “What will we do now?”

  Lysander took Aerilyn back in his arms and smiled hard. “That’s for you to decide, Wright. You’ve done me — and all the people of the seas — a great service. My ship is at your command.”

  Kael was impatient to get back to his quest. He wanted to see Amos rescued and his village avenged. But the thing Geist said haunted him. It plagued the back of his mind and made him worry.

  What if his army wasn’t big enough to face Titus? What if he marched off right away and led the pirates straight to their deaths? As much as his heart ached for home, he couldn’t risk their lives — not when there was a large chance they might not succeed.

  He decided quickly. “If we’re going to storm the mountains, I think we’ll need more swords.”

  Lysander raised an eyebrow. “I see. And where do you plan to find them?”

  “I hear the giants are good to have in a fight.”

  Lysander smiled in relief, then threw his head back and laughed. “Aye, I’ve heard that, too. So it’s off to the Endless Plains. And I suppose you have a plan of attack?”

  That was the frustrating part. “I wish we had that logbook. It’d make things a great deal easier.”

  Lysander grinned mischievously and reached inside his vest. “You mean this?”

  Kael caught the book he threw at him and could scarcely hide his astonishment. “When —?”

  “Ah, not when — how,” Lysander cut in. “A thief doesn’t need time, remember? Only opportunity. And I’ll bet Chaucer’s wishing he would have done up his buttons, right about now. The nerve of that blighter,” he said darkly. “Chancellor Chaucer — can you imagine? I’ll have to make sure the votes get tampered with.”

  “But won’t he follow us and try to take it back?”

  Lysander snorted. “He’ll have a rough time catching us without his sails.”

  That’s when Kael looked up and noticed Anchorgloam was outfitted with new billowing blue sails, stamped with the emblem of the High Seas. Aerilyn gasped and smacked Lysander in the shoulder.

  “What? Mine were all gooey,” he said.

  She crossed her arms and tried to look severe. “You’re a bad man, do you know that? An absolute villain.”

  He silenced her accusations with a kiss.

  Chapter 39

  Until the Last Sun Rises

  The evening sun was falling, washing Gravy Bay in orange light. It fell behind the cliffs and bled out onto the sea. Anchorgloam was a toy boat in the distance — a shadow bobbing gently on the waves. Kael watched her rock, watched the gulls circling hopefully about her sails and for a moment, felt at peace.

  And then a great head of wiry hair blocked his view. “Is it sunset, yet?” the man the hair belonged to said. And the planks of the dock creaked as he stood on his tiptoes to see over the woman in front of him.

  Kael clenched his fists tightly as more bodies shifted to look at the sun. He tried not to think about the fact that there were naught but a few planks between his boots and the ocean — or how the sheer number of people packed onto the docks must be buckling them.

  But he thought he could hear the wood grunting under their weight.

  He turned back around and nearly got clipped by Lysander — who was pacing nervously in the space between Kael and Thelred.

  He wore a clean white shirt and his customary tanned breeches. His hands twisted behind his back and Thelred watched him carefully — as if he might fling himself into the ocean the first chance he got.

  “How much longer?” Lysander snapped, and this time it was Thelred who replied patiently:

  “Hardly another minute.”

  “Good. I don’t think I could wait much longer.” He reached up to fuss at his collar, but Thelred grabbed his wrist and gave him a stern look. “You’re right — I shouldn’t get all wrinkly.”

  A bell rang out across the harbor, and it might as well have been an arrow that found its painful mark: Lysander leapt back into position so zealously that he nearly fell off the dock. Thelred had to pull him back over the edge by his shirt, wrinkling it fantastically in the process.

  “The lady arrives!” a man at the back of the crowd called out, and the docks groaned as they all stood on tiptoes.

  A long procession lined either side of the road, waiting to be the first to greet Aerilyn. She walked among them, dressed in a beautiful blue, flowing gown that Uncle Martin had especially made for the occasion. She wore no paint, but her face burned with a glow Kael had never seen before. She caught sight of Lysander — standing tangle-haired and disheveled at the end of the docks — and her smile warmed them all.

  For once, Kael was glad that Lysander had been right: Kyleigh did return, and not an hour too soon.

  Now she walked beside Aerilyn, their arms looped together. She smiled at the crowd and nodded in thanks to their well-wishing, but never once stopped talking to Aerilyn — who looked closer to fainting with every step.

  They reached the foot of the docks and Kael realized, in one heart-stopping moment, that all of Aerilyn’s begging had finally paid off: Kyleigh was wearing a dress.

  It was the same ridiculous, frilly gown she’d once climbed a tree to get away from. And Kael couldn’t help but notice how completely un-ridiculous it looked on her. The emerald skirts flowed down and brushed the tops of her slippers with every graceful step; the gold-trimmed waist held her figure like a frame held a painting — capturing, drawing the eye, and at the same time taking nothing away from the wonder. The sunlight struck the waves of her hair and her eyes ignited … and Kael very nearly stopped breathing.

  He thought he could’ve gone on staring for ages, if the sight of her didn’t make him so miserable.

  When Aerilyn finally let go of Kyleigh, it was to take Lysander’s hand. The two of them looked each other over, laughed and whispered nervously until Uncle Martin shouted: “Oh, get on with it!”

  This brought a roar of laughter and loud agreement from the other onlookers.

  “All right, fine,” Lysander said, waving his arm at them. Then he turned to Aerilyn and began the vow of pirate marriage. “Will you sail with me through the storms, hold my hand in the gales? Will you stand by my side in battle? Will you take me as your love?”

  She took a deep breath, and said with a smile the words she’d been fi
ghting to memorize for days on end. “I’ll sail with you through the storms, cleave to you in gales. In battle, you will be my cry. Though the weather may change, my heart will never wane. Yes, I’ll take you as my love.”

  The last word was hardly out of her mouth before Lysander scooped her up and kissed her — much to the thrill of the pirates.

  “Enough of that,” Uncle Martin hollered, using his cane to wedge them apart. “You’ve got the rest of your lives to be foolish. Let’s get through with the ceremony and on to the party!”

  He shoved Thelred towards the nearest rowboat. And while he undid the ties, Aerilyn bid them all farewell. She hugged Jake tightly, punched Jonathan in the arm for whatever rudeness he whispered in her ear, and then fell into Kael. “It feels strange to be leaving you all here,” she said, her chin resting on his shoulder. “After all the adventures we’ve had —”

  “It’s only a short journey,” he reminded her, before she could work herself up into tears. “We’ll be right here on shore.”

  “And you won’t leave me?”

  “Of course not. You know I can’t swim.”

  She laughed.

  Uncle Martin hugged Aerilyn once, tightly, and though he didn’t cry he certainly harrumphed and blinked an awful lot. Then Kyleigh kissed her on the cheek and helped her into the boat.

  “Row quickly,” Lysander barked.

  “Aye, Captain,” Thelred muttered as he took her out to sea. Anchorgloam waited in the distance, perched in the middle of the Bay. They propped their hands over their eyes and watched as Thelred helped her climb aboard. When she was safely on deck, he made his way back towards the docks.

  “Steady, lad,” Uncle Martin said as Lysander resumed his pacing.

  “He’s taking too blasted long.”

  “He’s rowing as fast as he can. I smell the sweat coming off him from here. Just take a deep breath and —”

  But Lysander must have been tired of waiting, because he charged past Uncle Martin, leapt off the docks and into the sea. He popped up a few moments later — having swum out of the reach of Uncle Martin’s cane.

 

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