by Daniel Casey
“No one will want to kill a paladin.” He said reluctant.
“Then tell her it’s not a paladin.” Asa moved closer to his men, his tone hateful, “Go!” He barked and the man with the pouch stumbled out. The other was about to follow when Asa grabbed his arm, “You’ll take the girl to our ship and be mindful, that hero will still be about.”
When the two had left, he turned to Riv, “We’ll set sail for The Blockade once we have her, so I’ll need you to go prep the ship. Make sure we’re ready—we’re going to be ferrying a couple of units of marines and some supplies for the Silvincians. They won’t care about some girl but make sure she doesn’t see them.”
“You think the feint with the wounded paladin and ranger will work? Seems a lot to ask of a whore.” Riv asked.
“Hardly, I trust whores to poison more readily than anyone else. The trick will be making sure the ranger doesn’t catch on.” Asa went over to a small closet, opened it to a shelf with a mirror and a basin.
Riv asked gingerly, “What about the one who cut you?”
“Well, if we see him and it costs nothing…” he checked his stitches, then grabbed a cloth and soaked it in the basin.
“The men will expect you to take revenge, you know that. Letting this slide will weaken you in their eyes.”
Asa wiped his face looking at Riv through the mirror, “They care more about more coin, but I take your meaning. We can’t get bogged down in pettiness. Something like that could derail the whole operation. I’ll take coin over face any day.”
“Humph.”
He threw the cloth into the basin and closed the closet, moving over to his desk he picked up a red bandana tying it around his neck, “And if the men have problems with that then I’ll kill them and have more coin for myself.”
Riv pointed at him, “Then make that clear.”
Anhra Harbor, 44th of Lammas
The docks were old but not in disrepair. Workers loaded and unloaded crates of various sizes, some as large as carriages, filled with wares from the north like Far Port and Paraonen, south from Wick and Lappala, and even as far away as Dyce. A handful of passengers mingled about, getting their bearings and collecting their things. Roth stood watching, a pack on his back and in each hand. With his hat pulled down, he surveyed the crowds, and felt a certain anonymity that had always quite pleased him. He needed to head back to the Siracene highlands, make camp at the Cruor, and wait for Jena to arrive. Then, he’d be free to head off anywhere he liked. He had no idea where he would go next; the marshland and the task that followed had not so much interrupted his sojourn as merely brought him to a crossroads sooner than he anticipated.
Since last Mabon, Roth had been trekking between the low and hinterlands trapping, occasionally tapping syrup trees and gathering peat, trading and tinkering. In that time, he had only spoken to a handful of folk and even then only in the briefest language of commerce. Roth never haggled, he turned in skins and what-have-you to merchants for whatever coin they offered and then went back out into the wild. Although alone, he had never been lonely. Yet he had grown bored, and the mess with Kira and Goshen had been something interesting at the very least though he didn’t look forward to dealing with Jena if The Cathedral stiffed her. Now with the varied ships before him, Roth contemplated crossing the sea and reacquainting himself with Adrenia or maybe even down into The Aral.
A boat to Arderra and then up into the Siracenes, he ruminated, and then… He caught sight of the wounded crusader being carried by some of the mender aides toward the passenger docks across the way. Roth smiled to himself thinking how distasteful it probably would be to the puritan when he heard that a tinker had not only saved his life but also secured his charge and righted his mission. The Light was never one to apologize or give thanks easily, he thought. As he watched, he couldn’t help but look for Kira and Jena. It seemed odd that the girl wouldn’t be at the side of the crusader as she had been from the moment Roth had encountered them.
Looking around the piers, he caught sight of a figure moving with an unnecessary suddenness. The fact that he wore the same type of blackened leather that the men in the marsh had worn roused Roth’s suspicions. He watched the man walk with purpose away from the Bandra docks; he carried himself in thuggish manner. Roth was about to put it out of his mind, when he let his head roll and his sightline followed the man’s path. He was about to meet up with two others, as Roth’s eyes focused he realized one of the two had a tight grip on the arm of the other he was walking with. The three were all dressed similarly but the one being manhandled had a red bandana around his face and seemed reluctant; he was being rather bullied about by the other two.
Now Roth’s attention was squarely on this group, he began to walk along the dock paralleling the trio. They were heading toward the Arderra docks. There were several frigates waiting, nearly every one of them a trader though a few were clearly privateers, and this was the kind of ship to which the three were moving. As they boarded a good-sized carrack, the one being held broke loose but before he could get anywhere, the third slapped him across the face. As he spun around from the force of the blow, the bandana fell away. Roth saw that it was not a man but a woman—specifically Kira.
“What the fuck is this?” Roth raised an eyebrow and began to walk quickly toward the ship. As he came closer, he saw more clearly it was Kira—a fresh bruise was on the cheek opposite the one just struck—and she was bound. The blow must have nearly knocked her out as her limp body was dragged aboard. There weren’t passengers on this ship--there were Silvincian marines. They didn’t seem to take much notice as Kira was taken below, but when Roth stepped on the crowded deck, he got more than a few sidelong glances. He ignored them and made his way to the stern-castle.
Just as he got to the doorway, another emerged from within directly into his path talking back towards someone else, “Even so, make sure she’s…”
Both men stopped short and stared at each other nose to nose. The man’s eyes narrowed and before Roth could process what was going on he felt a hard, dull thwack at the base of his skull. His vision blurred and he dropped to his knees blacking out to the sight of the man standing over him.
Eastern Novostos Sea , 44th of Lammas
The kettuvallam didn’t sway, but in its way you could feel the sea below, it’s near shore shallows lulling travelers into a sense of calm. Jena knew better than to trust the waters, she knew that skittering along its surface beholden to the whim of wind and the grit of oar was always perilous. Still, the lure of the seas, a promise of swift travel and fortunes to be made by it had hypnotized nearly all nations. She had been on ships like this before, though usually on wide rivers like the Falkstone or the Sorrent that lead into the Lake District. They tended to be pole or paddle run with the currents, which couldn’t be used out here along the coast. This ship moved at a good clip with several triangle sails out over the sides of the ship nearly obscuring the squat oars that moved below them. If the weather held, they would dock in Bandra within a day—they would wake to find the tips of The Cathedral’s golden pagodas in view.
The paladin was stable but not wholly healed, the Bandrian healers would see to it. The girl seemed odd though, nothing what she had expected. Roth made Kira sound like your typical alm, but this girl was more cowed and jittery. Jena assumed it was some residual shock from whatever had taken place out on the marshes. This just made her feel more uneasy about dealing with The Cathedral once they arrived. Like the sea, The Cathedral gave you the illusion of peace, the promise of tranquility but more readily, it exacted a price that was cruel in its indifference. Presenting a withered paladin and a distressed alm to the proctors would only guarantee her more hassle with whatever rector might be in a position of compensating her. She had been replaying Roth’s little story in her mind since they left Anhra. She needed to sound both convincing and casual, no threat, no kind of profiteer, just a free trader looking to do right by The Cathedral.
The other passengers on the bo
at seemed unconcerned with their method of travel. A handful of marines who must’ve been officers were heading back to the Spires, there were a couple of merchants seemingly more concerned with their cargo than anything else, and a few freemen uninterested in anyone else. This is what she had expected. Two days at a leisurely wind, just over a day with a good wind like the one they had now. In addition, several ships traveled along the route. It wasn’t unheard of to catch a passing ship heading the opposite direction or even have several ships in a sort of caravan over the waves. A stranger’s armada, the lane was in heavy use these days.
Jena loathed maritime endeavors and resolved to rid herself of the paladin as soon as possible, then find a good horse to make the journey back west at a slow, steady pace. The Cruor wouldn’t be going anywhere and Roth deserved to have to wait a bit. Jena leaned on the rail near the bow thinking of where she’d be if Roth hadn’t guilted her into this. But she caught herself almost at once, she owed him and this was a simple way to make good on the debt. Not that he’d see it that way; he’d probably end up doing some other kindness by her in spite of himself. She shook her head, you shouldn’t complain about having a friend. Still, it was more than a bit of an annoying task. There wasn’t much of a sense of ease with the passengers or crew, but fortunately, the captain knew and trusted both Roth and Jena.
Roth had done well to stay the wounds of the crusader and Jena had done a bit more to stabilize the man. In fact, she was nursing him a bit, as they made their way. More to give the damn alm something to do other than stand as her shadow and stare stupidly at the paladin. Jena had the girl administer a new poultice every few hours and get the man to drink a bit of dark tea to keep his fever at bay. The poison in him was in check but it seemed not to be responding too well to the treatments. The fever persisted and when he did awaken it was nothing but delirium. In the old days before The Blockade, the paladin wouldn’t have even had the barbers he had seen at Anhra, which used to be an outpost at best. The menders that had shown up, once the Silvincian campaign dragged on longer than many thought it ever would, were sullied priests. Malcontents, abjurers, those dumb souls The Cathedral was looking to put out of the way because they were embarrassing or troublemakers. Thus, no one had the necessary skill to treat the paladin fully. Seemed though, to Jena at least, they would have tried a bit harder to purge the toxin. A dead paladin would be a political hassle.
Jena turned away from the rail and went into their cabin. The paladin slept, his face as calm as the sea over which they glided and just as wet. The woman was in the adjoining room, Jena hadn’t seen her for hours. The light was fading fast and by late evening, they may be close enough to catch the flicker of Bandra’s lighthouse. Before the morning sun was high, the captain would have guided the ship into dock as he had done hundreds of times before to unload cargo, crew, and passengers each going about their own separate adventures for who knows why to some unknowable end.
Western Novostos Sea
Kira twisted left then right as the rough rope around her wrists dug into her flesh. She sat atop some crates, hands behind her back and her knees at her chest with her ankles bound. She could taste her own blood in her saliva. She was still appalled no one had taken exception to her being abused, that none of the other passengers or crew had seemed to even flinch as she was obviously dragged against her will on board and below deck. She would have called out had she not feared what the two men guarding the cabin would do to her. They seemed to have no qualms with striking her for the slightest reason. The door to the hold suddenly swung open, and a man’s unconscious body was thrown down onto the floor. Kira let out a slight squeak and the guards growled at her, “Thought you might want some company.”
When the door closed, Kira looked down at the unmoving body and realized it was Roth. Blood glistened behind his ear and along the side of his face, she wondered if they had perhaps done irrevocable damage. He let out a muffled moan and slowly rolled over onto his side.
“Fuck,” he groaned rising to his knees holding his head in his hands. His eyes were closed tightly and his face was scrunched up in obvious pain. Opening his eyes, he discovered one was caked shut with his own blood. His clear eye tried to focus but found it difficult; the hold was dim and it took his eyes a minute to adjust to what little light made it in from the hall through the door’s seams. The sound of his own blood filled his ears and as he groped around, his fingers felt tight and fat as though they hadn't been used in ages
“Funny seeing you again.” Kira said in a steady but slightly accusatory tone. Roth started when he heard her voice.
Roth tilted his head looking around the hold for the girl, his neck screamed sharp pain into his already grieving head, “Kira?” he said tentatively.
“Yes.”
“What…what the hell happened? Where is Jena?” he righted himself into a sitting position, he began to take a mental inventory. He spat on the cloth that bound him and sucked on it a little, when it was damp enough he began to wipe the crusted blood from his eye and face. Intact, no holes, he thought.
Kira scoffed, “Jena? I have no idea. I never met the woman.”
“Wait. What? She…”
“Never showed up. Or maybe she did and that’s why I’m here.”
Roth’s eyes had adjusted, and he now saw where Kira was. He tried to stand but nearly fell. Though the room was still nearly all shadow, he saw nothing but stars and red blotches. Roth felt his head and quickly found what felt like a large gash just above his ear. He gave himself a moment, and then stood again taking a few steps toward Kira. As he did, she pushed herself back.
“What are you doing?” He asked puzzled.
“Getting away from you.” Kira lifted her legs a bit like she was about to kick out at him.
“What the hell for? We’re both in the same boat, literally.” Roth laughed to himself.
“Hardly. Obviously you’re some sort of privateer in cahoots with these other ruffians.”
“Privateer? Cahoots? Ruffians? Who talks like that? What would you know anyway?” Roth tried to stand but was too wobbly still. He took a moment and on his knees, he edged closer to Kira.
“Enough to know a traitor when I see one.” Kira kicked out at him shaking the crates she was sitting on and setting her off balance. As the crates wobbled, Kira over-corrected tipping herself and them over onto the floor. Roth leaned back watching she fell, not attempting to hide the humor he found in this.
“How can you laugh? Do you have no appreciation for the situation we’re in?” She whined.
Roth grimaced; his laughter aggravated his head wound sending sharp shooting pains all through his body. He held his head still and steadied himself against one of the crates. With his eye cleaned up slightly, he was better able to take in the room of the ship's hold that was now his jail. Instead of just black, he now saw everything in a soft brown. The hold was not as small as he suspected, maybe twenty steps by twenty, which meant the ship was good sized given that the crates in the room looked sparse and aged. Roth felt the boat sway and he tried to gauge the speed, the feel of it.
“No, I can completely appreciate the situation.” He muttered between clenched teeth.
“I don’t find being ambushed, betrayed, and kidnapped very funny.”
“And who betrayed you?” Roth sincerely asked.
“You, you dolt.” Kira said incredulous.
“You think this is my doing? Are you daft?”
“Then who is responsible?”
“You tell me. I’m the one bleeding from the head. Because I saw you not going where you were told to go. I need to know where Jena is. Why you aren’t with her? I need to know what exactly happened.” Roth kept his voice low but there was a firm fury in his words.
Kira grew quiet, “I have no idea.”
"You don't remember or you don’t know?” He snapped.
“I was set upon. Came from behind me and smothered me with some cloth.”
“No one saw them?” He shook
his head, “What about Jena?”
Kira grit her teeth in impatience, “I told you I never met Jena. I haven’t seen Goshen either.”
“Well, then who did you meet? Last I saw, Goshen was being carried on a stretcher toward the docks where Jena’s ship was waiting to take him and you to Bandra.” Roth raised his voice sharply, exasperated. He regretted it immediately, squeezing his eyes closed and feeling as though his head was about to explode. He staggered forward a bit then crashed hard against the hull wall.
Kira looked at him and spoke softly as if to herself, “You left. I was going to the barber’s to find out more about Goshen. He is going to be all right, should you care. They told me they had given him a sedative and that he’d be unconscious for at least half a day. Before I could thank them, new men came into the room. They escorted the barber out.”
Roth let out a long sigh and blinked several times. He slid along the wall to where Kira was and then squatted down, “Go on.”
He gestured for her to lean forward. He reached behind her working to unbind her as she spoke, “One stayed behind, the masked one from the wetlands. I knew it was him. He didn’t speak. Just stared at me. I was too frightened to do anything.”
“And that’s when they got you from behind.” Roth said and Kira nodded. He had freed her hands and now held up his own for her to loose.
“They dragged me out the back, pulled me behind some crates.” She stuttered as she spoke untying Roth’s binders.
“Did they?”
“They stripped me, just striped me, threw these clothes at me to change into so I would look like one of them, I guess. When they led me out, the one in the mask punched me in the face, told me to stay still. They lead me to this ship and threw me in here, then you showed up.” Kira’s voice wavered as she finished untying Roth. He rubbed his wrists, wiped his face, then took her hands and gently began to wrap the cloth rags around her raw wrists.
