by LeRoy Clary
There were only four more of them and the officer. Flier leaped over the railing of the ramp and landed at my side, then moved quickly two steps away from me where our blades wouldn’t foul each other when swinging. I heard the feet of the ship’s officers pounding down the ramp. We charged. Two of them spun and ran after the other two, and the officer lay dying or dead.
Sailors from the ship joined us. They’d tried to help, but the battle was that short. The captain had the three bodies on the gangplank rolled off, and they splashed into the water of the bay. The captain said, “Take as many of my men with you as you need.”
“Thanks, but we’re better as a team,” I told him as I nodded in the direction of Flier. “Besides, you need to get your ship free of the pier and out to sea. There will be a whole army coming this way soon.”
He said, “There are other trade routes.”
“Meaning you won’t be returning here?” I asked.
“Vin has violated a basic law of the sea. Word of their transgression will spread. With this, no ships will make port here.” The captain turned, walked back up to the quarterdeck of his ship, and turned to salute to Flier and me. Then the purser began shouting orders to the deckhands. The ropes securing the ship to the pier were released, two sails raised, and the gangway retracted. As we watched, the ship pulled away, moving slowly to the center of the bay.
When we reached Kendra and the girls who were waiting in the alley, she said, “I knew we should have brought bows with us. I could have put an arrow in each of those that escaped.”
Flier said, “No matter, word would have spread. They’ll be after us, soon. We need to go this way.”
He trotted off at an angle, taking us up one street and down another. Finally, after ten or twelve blocks, he reached a two-story building that looked like all the others. He ushered us into the barn built on the first floor and placed a bar of iron across the entry door.
I expected to climb the stairs, but Flier took us to a stall filled with old hay and horse-droppings. He kicked some of it aside and found an iron ring. “Down.”
We found a set of steep stairs and were all huddled at the bottom when he closed the door above. A spark flared, and a candle with a thin wick ignited and spread a weak yellow light. He placed an amber glass globe over it, and we had enough light to see—barely.
We were in a tunnel. Flier took the lead, and we walked for hundreds of steps, him holding the candle high to cast light back on the rest of us. We paused every few steps to wipe away spider webs, but overall, the tunnel was clear, dry, and safe. We arrived at another set of stairs, and he handed me the candle.
“Wait here.”
He reached up and slid a latch to one side. Another hatch flew open, this time by someone other than Flier. Light flooded inside. It was so bright we couldn’t see.
As my eyes adjusted and found four men, all with bows. Their arrows pointed right at us.
“It’s me,” Flier growled. “Where’s my father?”
A man stepped into view. “He’s safely at the coast. We thought you dead.”
We were all helped into a tack-room of a work-shed, then up a flight of stairs to an ordinary home. The man who lived there worked for Flier’s family and maintaining the escape tunnel was part of their deal.
Flier introduced the older man as Chambers and his four eldest sons who had greeted us at the tunnel. Mary, his wife, fed us while Chambers and Flier talked, huddled in a corner. Chambers confirmed the family had believed Flier dead, and when he found we’d killed the soldiers at the ship, he became concerned for the safety of his wife and sons.
Flier explained we were trying to rescue a missing princess. Chambers reacted by tossing a look to the five of us, which included my sister and the girls. He held his tongue and listened as Flier told him of her abduction from the ship.
Chambers turned to his sons. “This woman is important. All four of you need to go out into the streets and talk to friends who may have seen or heard anything. You know better than to ask direct questions, but you should be able to say you heard a woman was taken from a ship. Do not mention she is a princess.”
They left hurriedly. Kendra said, “We don’t want them to get into trouble asking questions.”
Chambers laughed. “These days, everyone asks questions, but only of those they trust. The story of a woman being taken from a ship is probably on the lips of half of Vin right now.”
We watched the street below from behind the edge of curtains. Flier talked to Chambers, catching up on the demise of the city, as well as news of his family. I quit listening until I heard him ask, “How did you know we were in the tunnel?”
“Traps and alarms. But the hatch at this end is balanced carefully with nothing sitting on it but a few small bells. When you closed the door at the other end, the compressed air in the tunnel made this door rise and fall enough to ring the bells. There are a few others alarms, too.”
*I like him,* Anna said.
*Me too.*
*Can we talk? Just you and me?*
* We're doing that now, aren’t we?*
In my mind, I saw a fleeting red image of her scowl. *Alone.*
*Is it important?*
*Yes.*
I stood and said to the room at large. “I want to go back to that barn at the end of the tunnel and see if we were followed. Does anyone live upstairs there?”
Chambers said, “The apartment is empty, but do not move in front of any windows, or even allow the curtains to move. There are too many in Vin who sells information.”
“Okay, I’ll be careful. Anna, want to go with me? I can use some company.”
She instantly rose to her feet. Kendra gave me an inquiring look, and Emma also stood. “I want to go, too.”
“No, I want you to stay with Kendra. One little girl at a time is all I can handle.”
“I want to go,” Emma insisted.
They had seldom been apart since we found them, and I had no reason to separate them. I looked at Anna, and she gave me the slightest shake of her head, a movement so small others looking directly at her may not have noticed. I said, “No, you stay this time. I’ll take you next.”
Emma furrowed her eyebrows.
*No,” Anna silently told me with enough emotion to almost stagger me.
Before there could be any more discussion, I headed down the stairs, Anna at my heels. We used the trapdoor, and I used my magic to light the flame of the candle. There were fewer spider webs, and we moved quickly. At the far end, we climbed the stairs up into the barn, then another set of stairs that took us to the second floor and into a vacant apartment with all the heavy curtains pulled closed.
I went to the rear and looked out to where I couldn’t see the ship because of the buildings, but I could see the main street leading to it was filled with soldiers who were now splitting into smaller groups and hurrying apart. Others were arriving. As I watched, they began a house-to-house search. The search was still several blocks away, so we had time. A little. And Anna’s request to talk to me alone seemed important to her.
“You wanted to speak with me? Alone?” I asked, my eyes still on the activity of the soldiers.
“Alone. Now I don’t know what to say or how to start.”
I turned and faced a very serious twelve-year-old, and despite the dangers all around us, I expected her to ask if boys liked her or if I thought she was pretty. I should have known better, living with a pair of strong women almost my whole life, but children bring out the sense that I’m so much smarter than them that their concerns are often humorous. They are more attuned to the feelings of others than men, which is to say that we lack a form of empathy.
Anticipating what was to come caused a smile to form. I was so smart.
She placed her hands on her hips and spat at me, “Are you going to take me seriously or stand there with that stupid grin on your face?”
I got rid of the smile. Whatever it was, she seemed more upset than I expected and perhaps I shoul
d listen. Perhaps. What a stupid thought. I turned back to the window for a quick check, then gave her my full attention. “Okay, what is it?”
“Emma.”
“Is she bothering you in some way?” I feared Emma was using her magic to torment her older sister again in some fashion. I knew how to do that from the first-hand experience and could quickly end it.
“No. Not directly,” she said hesitantly. “But there is something you should know, and I think it’s why she wanted to come with us so badly. She does not want me to be alone with you.”
I glanced out the rear window again and watched more troops fan out for their searches. It made me impatient, but I said, “I don’t understand. Is she jealous?”
“No. I don’t know how to explain, so I’m just going to just say it. Remember the day you found us in the storm?”
“Of course. It was a terrible day.”
“I heard the storm was caused by a mage. Is that true?” she asked.
“I think so. My guess is that it was. Why does it matter?”
“Why would a mage make such a storm? Right at that time? Have you asked yourself that?”
“No,” I admitted, but had thought about it several times.
She closed her eyes and remained silent for so long I thought she was finished speaking, but she opened them and looked directly at me, then reached out and took both of my hands in hers, the first time she’d made such a gesture. Her eyes watered, and tears threatened to fall. She spoke rushed, as if afraid to tell me. “Damon, I cannot remember a single thing about Emma before that day. I remember eating meals with my mother and father, but never with her at the table. I played with another little girl when small, but not Emma.”
“What are you saying?”
Her small hands squeezed mine. “I am saying I cannot ever remember Emma before the day of the storm. Things were put in my mind that sort of made it seem like I knew her, that we were sisters, but the more I think about it, the more I’m convinced she is not my sister.”
“How can that be?” I stuttered.
“I’m just twelve. You tell me how I cannot remember a single time when the four of us were together, my parents, her, and me. Not once. I went shopping with my mother, but it was only her and me. Emma was never there. Our house had two rooms for sleeping, a large one for my parents, a tiny one that used to be a closet was converted for me. There was no other room for Emma to sleep in, and mine was too small for two.”
She was still on the verge of tears, awaiting my response and probably my rejection at such an idea. I said, “Maybe you are not sisters. Maybe you were just traveling with Emma. Your mother could have been watching over her when the storm struck.”
“Emma says we are sisters.”
I waited for more.
“Emma does not eat. She pretends but does not. She hides her food and throws it away when nobody is looking. I am not crazy and want you to believe me.”
Her request to believe her was not as farfetched as she might think. I’d met the Blue Lady a few times and felt fear as a sour taste in my mouth. My hands started shaking. I didn’t want to believe it. I couldn’t. Yet, as my mind wrapped around several past events, it might be true. No, it was true. I was certain.
Emma was an apparition, or whatever the right word would be. She was like the Blue Lady, but a better projection. The more I thought of it, the more I realized the scowls, the frowns, the response to my offer to help her with the language. Touching her mind had been like poison. Almost evil.
The more I thought about it, the more I was revolted. The more I knew Anna was right. Emma was our enemy.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Princess Elizabeth
“You cannot treat a princess like this,” I said as I pounded my fist on the pommel of the saddle as if I was a spoiled brat of a princess. It was a demonstration intended for him, to make him think I was weak, so he would relax, and I could escape.
He laughed and tossed me the water flask he’d had to his lips a moment earlier. Despite that, I was thirsty and refused to give him the satisfaction of wiping the mouth of the container before using it. He was baiting me. Trying to get me to react.
That was his error. He believed that because he stood a head taller and was a man, he could force me to do what he wanted. He hadn’t made any sexual advances, and that only told me he’d been ordered not to. But he was allowed to beat me within reason. Not kill me, just beat and torture—as if that was better.
The man was crude, rough, and determined to convince himself he was as good as me. His overconfidence would be his downfall. Not today. He was ready for me to fight back and he was anxious to display his strength, but it wouldn’t happen.
The water tasted warm and flat. The morning heat was drawing moisture from my body already, and I nearly finished the flask before he slapped it from my hands and away from my lips.
“Save some for later,” he snarled.
I watched the rest leak into a dark spot on the sand. It wasn’t water he wanted to save. It was that he wanted control of me. I cried, forcing the tears to fall while I still had them in me. I didn’t say anything, but he saw them and grinned. A crying woman makes a man feel superior. I wanted him to feel that way.
The little horses were rough to ride. Their gaits were uneven and jolting, and if we spent too long in the saddle, we’d be sore for days. He took us out from the city into the empty desert of the Brownlands, almost directly west of Vin. Twice we crossed roads that generally went in the same direction, but we followed no road. Looking behind in the sand showed only a few hollows from the hooves of the horses, and the first breeze would obscure them with blowing sand. We wouldn’t be followed.
He seemed to have a destination and late in the day, a small pile of rocks stood directly ahead after we altered our course slightly. They were boulders, piled two high, with rounded surfaces from the wind and blowing sand. I saw nothing else in sight.
“Dismount and stretch,” he said. “Let any thoughts of running turn into asking yourself what will happen if I have to come and get you. And I was born out here, so I know how to track and survive.”
His explanation revealed a lot in a few words. I climbed from my horse as I considered them. He wanted me to know there was no escape, that he was my superior in every aspect. I said meekly, “I’ve never been in a desert.”
He glanced at me in an odd way, so I didn’t know if he believed my misdirection or thought me more dangerous because of the attempt at seeming a defenseless woman.
The horses were hobbled, and he placed a feed sack on the muzzle of each with far more gentleness that he showed me. He withdrew more hobbles and used them on me, pulling the ropes tight. My feet were lashed behind me, my ankles tied together and pulled to the small of my back with a single piece of rope.
He went to the base of a boulder and smoothed away the sand with his hand. Below the surface was a wooden crate. He removed the lid and inside were jars of water and a large bowl. He watered the horses from the bowl, and when satisfied all was well, the sun was sinking behind a row of far-off mountains, and he allowed me a drink. Already a chill was in the air.
My hands were freed. He handed me dried meat to gnaw, as well as a full jar of water to drink. The meat was dry, salty, and tasteless, the water warm, flat, and welcome to my dehydrated body. He didn’t talk, but he didn’t have to. Our needs were simple, and he communicated well without words. Half a blanket covered me; the other half was my bed. The sand that managed to slip in and chafe was ignored.
We rose with the sun, and instead of continuing west, we turned south. Dagger was our ultimate destination, the pile of boulders just a place to rest for the night and refresh ourselves with the water stored there. I wished I had Damon’s powers to untangle the knots in the ropes that I fought with all night. If I had managed to get free, my captor would have been attacked by a fierce and angry princess intent on killing him. My waking-dreams were filled with the imaginary attack.
“Ti
me to move on,” were his only words as he readied the horses.
I wanted him to talk. “Where are we going today?”
“You’re riding where I go.”
“My father would pay you a fortune if you took me to Dire.”
“Never been there and don’t plan on going.”
“He would send you the gold. Just let me go.”
A snort of derision was my only answer.
We rode during the cool of the morning, then stopped where the rear side of a hill provided a little shade and fitfully slept the afternoon away. My thoughts of revenge grew darker and more intense. Late in the day, we moved again, reaching a wallow where a few trees struggled to survive in the cracked ground where there had been water in the spring. Now there remained a soggy depression in the center. During the night we heard dozens of animals make their way to the murky, green water that gave the area the scent like death.
The following day, we reached the shore of a lake so wide I couldn’t see the far shore. Boats were there on the water. Most fished in one manner or another. Along the shore were farms, most with hand-dug canals for irrigation. Crops grew in the fertile soil. A few hundred steps from the shore, the desert took over again.
The narrow strip of farmland was green and lush, nearly every bit of available land under cultivation. A road wound its way along the shoreline, following the contours. On one side were the farms, and on the other side the Brownlands.
It was the river I’d heard about, and the chain of lakes behind dams. There was a string of them, one of the most impressive things about Kondor and allowed for the large population to exist by raising the food. The lakes provided water for irrigation, of course, but they also held fish for food, water for the transportation of crops, homes, and cabins for the residents where boating and swimming were daily goals. I was both impressed and jealous. The people of Dire had nothing like what lay in front of me.
