by Anna Bowman
“That’s our rendezvous point. It’ll take us two days to reach it.”
A gust of wind rattled the sails, and Sol flattened his hand on the map to keep it in place.
“How is the firebolt core going to hold up?” He raised an eye at Jank.
Jank took a pause from tugging on his ear to nod.
“Should be fine…unless we take a direct hit to the engine, or...” He stopped as Solomand glared at him. “It’ll be fine.” He rubbed the back of his neck.
“Of course, it will,” Sol rolled his eyes.
Thanks for the vote of confidence, Jank.
Failure was not an option, and there were so many things that could go wrong. Even thinking about the possibilities that could throw a wrench in their plans would not be permitted. He smoothed the edges of the map again.
“Why not use your other map?” Rayn asked.
“I’m still working out how to use it. A regular map is simpler.” Sol stuffed the map in his pocket. “Can’t risk losing that other one. Lemuel would most definitely have me impaled.”
Did I say that aloud?
He bit his lip wincing.
“Who is Lemuel?”
He ignored her incredulous stare, strapping goggles into place clumsily with his left hand.
Tristan leaned towards her, tugging at her arm.
“He’s the Falcon,” he said.
Rayn looked annoyed at this answer.
“Who’s the Falcon?”
The crew stirred uneasily. Sol glanced at Jank, who had gone a greenish color. Reluctantly, he motioned Ivan to take the co-pilot seat and hooked one of the rigging straps from the mast to his belt. He sat down next to Rayn.
“Remember when you asked me who Daishee was?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, you’re about to find out.
Rayn rubbed a hand across her forehead.
“Lemuel, Falcon, Daishee—a man of ten names. Like you, huh?”
Sol’s stomach tightened at the thought.
“No.” He shook his head. “Not like me.”
Not even close.
Lemuel was a man he loathed, feared, and admired all at the same time. Death walked where he did. Always lurking in the shadows, he knew things, had ways of unlocking any door, and still showed up when it was too late to do any good. But he did show up and had never ignored Solomand’s request for help. The question on Sol’s mind was: would he agree to help, or not?
Chapter 45
Rayn
The rendezvous point was in the mouth of a canyon where the Red River flowed in shallow, rust-colored ripples. Corcyra could not be seen from the canyon, but it was not far away. Water cascaded down the canyon wall of varying shades of red. Will landed the skiff below a protruding rock upstream of the shallow, cascading water. As soon as the airship touched the ground, Jank unstrapped himself from the rigging and jumped, red-faced, over the side, dashing out of sight. He returned a few minutes later, sighing with relief.
“Been needing to piss for the last three hours,” he mumbled.
“Why didn’t you go last time we stopped?” Sol yawned.
“Shut up, Sol.” Jank stretched.
Rayn unhooked herself. “Or just go off the side—you men are lucky that way.”
Sol’s yawn turned into a laugh as Jank’s face turned red. He tugged with the buttons on his jacket, cursed and wriggled his right arm.
“Don’t think I won’t call it off just because we have come this far.” Tristan’s dark voice warned.
Sol stopped moving his arm, giving Tristan an exasperated look.
“What time is it?”
Tristan checked his pocket watch. “Sixteen forty-three.”
His eyes pressed shut, and the timepiece fell into his lap as he coughed into his hand. He drew it away from his mouth wet.
Rayn was standing behind him. Her eyes widened with horror.
Is that blood?
The others were too busy readying supplies to notice. Sol would want to know!
“Rayn.”
She jumped as Tristan looked at her, shaking his head, his eyes pleading. The blood was gone, only a damp smear against his dark coat remained.
She leaned in close to him and whispered, “But, Tristan!”
“I’ll be fine.”
He squeezed her hand. His head leaned back against the seat. She could feel his pulse racing.
What the hell do I do?
She hesitated, looking after Ivan. He was the closest.
Tristan’s hand tightened around hers.
“Did Sol ever tell you how we met?”
His breathing was slower now, steadier. She knew he was trying to distract her.
“No.”
She turned away from Ivan. Was this really the right choice? Her shoulders slumped, and she took a knee beside him.
“Corcyra is divided. Those in the central part of the city are not allowed to associate with those outside the wall—swanks, they call us.” Tristan was taking a great deal of effort to keep from coughing. “I was terrible at listening. I went out against my father’s wishes and ran into some trouble. Apparently, I stood out.”
His shoulders shook as he laughed slightly. He coughed again, this time into his elbow. Rayn saw the moist spot on his sleeve and felt dread gripping her with an icy grasp.
Tristan kept talking.
“Some rather rough-looking characters were giving me quite a thrashing. I was sure I was done for. But Sol and Ivan showed up with a friend of theirs. Sol told me to go back where I belonged. Tensions were high already between the Coalition. Everyone knew it was only a matter of time before all-out war broke out.”
He looked far away—lost in the past for a moment.
“Anyway, I thought about where I belonged for a long while. Then, I left my father, the Coalition, everything. I found Sol and the others, and we’ve been family ever since.”
Rayn squeezed his hand, whispering, “Finish telling me later.”
She couldn’t bear to see him struggle to speak. She made up her mind not to say anything. The way Solomand watched Tristan all the time, surely he would notice.
A grateful glimmer in his eyes, Tristan motioned her closer and whispered, “You made the right choice in staying. You will find answers in Corcyra.”
His words, at one time, would have filled her with excitement. Now, tears came to her eyes. If she found everything she wanted in the world, it wouldn’t matter if Tristan died.
She hugged him, choking out, “I don’t need answers, Tristan. I’ve found something better.”
Gripping the Drakon in her hands, she climbed down the ladder and waded across the river to where Solomand stood. Tristan was a traitor to the Coalition. She’d heard plenty of stories about the examples LeFrost made out of anyone who betrayed him.
Her legs felt cool as the flowing water flowed just under her knees. Sol crouched down, surveying muddy three-pronged tracks leading away from the river. She bent down to face him.
“Why did you bring Tristan to Corcyra?” There was more anger in her voice than she meant to let out.
Sol’s head jerked up. He looked startled at the question.
“I can’t do this without him.” He replied defensively.
All about the plan again.
“What happened to it being too dangerous?”
The rifle rattled, and the word dangerous echoed off the canyon walls.
Sol’s brow furrowed, and he rose, bringing a warning finger to his lips.
“He’s not going into the city—neither are Jank and Zee.” His face twisted in suspicion. “Why? What’s wrong?” He glanced back to the skiff.
Rayn pulled her hat lower over her eyes, trying to look nonchalant.
If he could keep secrets so could she.
Solomand studied her, worry lines forming on his face. Her resolve faltered. Was she even doing the right thing?
A shrill whistle echoed around them, and a sleek shadow swooped across the stone, vanishi
ng around a bend in the canyon.
“He’s here.” Sol gave a last questioning look from Rayn to their ship before calling to Will. “Will, go wait on the skiff.”
Will nodded, splashing through the river-bed as he hurried back.
“Let’s go.” Sol gave Rayn one last suspicious look before following the shadow.
Rayn let out a sigh of relief. She was glad he’d sent Will back. It was better if Tristan were not alone.
Even in the shaded parts of the canyon, there was a steady, baking heat. Sweaty hair clung to the sides of her neck. She clawed it away and tightened her grip on the rifle, tripping forward on the rocky terrain. Her chest felt tight and constrained with every step. Ivan was not far behind them, but Jank trailed back, holding Zee’s hand, jumping at every noise.
The whistle echoed again, and more swooping shadows danced around them on the canyon walls. Sol’s pace quickened, and she moved her legs faster to keep up. They were following the darkness or whatever was casting it. This was not a comforting thought. She recalled the unnerving silence of everyone when Sol mentioned The Falcon and wondered what exactly they were getting into.
The gentle sound of bubbling water grew louder, and the bird-shaped shadow dove like an arrow into the mouth of a cave. Chest heaving, Rayn wiped sweat from her face and ducked into the narrow mouth of the cavern after Ivan and Sol.
Sunlight funneled into a glistening pool of water, which bubbled up from underground. A sage-blue myst falcon perched on the pond, eyeing them shrewdly. With a screech, it flapped its silver-lined wings and flew up, landing on its master’s leather-clad shoulder. Its head jerked from side to side as it continued to watch them.
“Dangerous. How fitting that word heralds your arrival.”
Black eyes tinged with blue glittered under the wide brim of The Falcon’s hat. The bird snatched a moist piece of raw meat from his fingers. His voice was low. He pushed his hat back.
“Anye ashi. Hello, Sol.”
Chapter 46
Rayn
Sun caught the silver lining in the falcon’s wings as it swooped over their heads.
“Anyi manjien. Lemuel,” Sol said, using the same exchange he had with his uncle.
The Falcon wore dusty pants tucked into his boots and a black gun-belt hung loosely on his hip. A leather satchel was slung over his shoulder, and the sleeves of his rust-red shirt were rolled up, revealing a pattern of intricate tattoos inked around his forearms.
Jank jerked his head up, shifty eyes trailing the myst falcon as it vanished. The man Sol called Lemuel crossed his burly arms, surveying Jank. He scratched at a neatly trimmed grey and black beard.
“Your men are as high strung as ever, I see.”
There was a sleek rifle slung on his shoulder, one Rayn did not recognize. She stared at it with curiosity and longing.
Jank was pale as he hung behind Sol, his eyes stabbing at the man.
“Bodysnatcher,” he muttered under his breath.
Bodysnatcher? She remembered the conversation she’d had with Solomand about sleepwalkers, and the mysterious assassin some believed responsible. Rayn had dismissed it as nonsense, but the fear hanging in the air was too real to ignore. Even Zee backed away from the man, fixing her golden eyes in a suspicious glare.
White teeth flashed as the Falcon allowed a grin to pass his lips.
“By far my favorite nickname.”
Rayn looked closer at Lemuel. He had a distinguished, yet rough look about him. His age was difficult to place, but he couldn’t have been much past forty. He pulled off his hat. Tanned fingers combed through cropped black hair. He shook his head in a disapproving way at Sol’s arm.
“Isn’t your luck running a little low to be coming here of all places?”
The Falcon’s black gaze moved to Rayn, and her fingers tightened around the rifle.
“If this were a game of cards, I’d say it’s a good time for you to fold.”
Rayn squirmed, feeling the unpleasant sensation he knew everything about her. Lemuel or Daishee had as many names as Solomand and did not appear the type of man anyone kept secrets from. She also had the nagging feeling in the back of her mind that she’d seen him somewhere before.
“I don’t gamble, Lemuel.”
Sol’s cool manner made Rayn feel a little better. She wondered if he saw the same person they did, though. He was the type of man who people would probably leave town to avoid. That look in his eyes planted an unsettling assurance that crossing him would be hazardous to your health.
The Falcon’s head tilted to one side. A thin scar ran just under his right eye, white against his tanned, weathered skin.
“I don’t gamble. You and your team, on the other hand, are about to make one hell of a wager.” He whistled shrilly. “The question is, what do you need from me?” His eyes were like an animal watching prey. He trained his gaze on Jank. “A sleep walk?”
Rayn glanced at the engineer in time to see all color drain from his face. He looked like he was going to be ill as he tugged inadvertently at his ear. His apparent terror disturbed her, and she renewed her grip on the Drakon, hands soaked with sweat in her gloves.
“Maybe not.” Lemuel’s eyes moved back to Sol.
“We’re going in through the river canals.” Solomand said. “We need the grates unlocked. That’s it.”
Lemuel rubbed a hand along his grizzled chin.
“You know my methods are less than conventional, Sol. The same ones Ben disagreed quite strongly with.”
Solomand squared his shoulders, and there was a hitch in his breath before he spoke.
“I’m not Ben. And I don’t care what your methods are so long as those damned grates are open.”
Lemuel arced his shoulder as his pet collided with him, digging razor-edged claws into the leather guard that was cinched on his shoulder.
“Striking a blow to LeFrost can only help you, anyway.”
Solomand was sweating, his face looked strained as he tried to convince the Falcon to help them.
Lemuel reached up to stroke the feathers of his bird. He crouched down to one knee, pushing his hat up.
“I don’t hunt pawns, Sol. You know that. I’m only interested in putting the king in check.”
His voice was chillingly calm, a man who didn’t need help; the thought of it seemed to bore him. He looked as if he wanted Sol to convince him what possible reason there could be for lending his aid.
Sol’s weight shifted to one leg, his hand shaking as it clenched.
“You owe it to Ben.”
Lemuel’s eyes moved to Jank and then back to the bird on his shoulder as he traced a hand through the sand.
“Your highborn friend is no doubt the brains behind this whole suicide venture. Is he with you?”
There was something in his manner that shifted.
Sol’s jaw clenched, and The Falcon smiled grimly. Rayn got the impression he only asked questions to bring attention to the fact he knew the answers.
He shook his head at Solomand as if he were a child about to make the same mistake a tenth time. Lines formed around his eyes as they narrowed.
“Alright, Sol.” All traces of good humor were gone from his face. “I’ll open the grates. But getting out…that is entirely up to you. I’ll be gone come sundown.”
“That’s good enough.” Sol looked relieved.
Lemuel returned the hat to his head and adjusted the brim, pulling it low, so it hid his eyes.
“Good luck. You’re going to need it. Even with an Ice Wolf tagging along at your heels.”
Ivan regarded him with a disinterested look.
“Thanks, Lemuel. I’ll owe you one for this.”
“Let’s hope you live to deliver.” He adjusted his rifle sling as the sage-blue falcon took flight. He bowed his head slightly at Sol. “Miijen nkoiti wabi maji sipihkwash.”
Sol repeated the same words back to him.
Lemuel turned to Rayn and smiled at her, in a somewhat guarded way.
> “Don’t try too hard to be a hero, Animaksew.”
He held up a hand as he traipsed through their midst toward the mouth of the cavern. Jank and Zee moved aside, making a path.
As they made their way back to the skiff Rayn caught up with Solomand.
“Hey, Sol.”
“Yeah?”
“Why does Jank call him the body snatcher? Does it have to do with the whole…sleepwalking thing?”
Jank tripped and tumbled the rest of the way down the sloping terrain and fell face first into the river with a splash. Sol cast a sideways glance as the engineer spluttered his way across the Red River.
“Yeah, but best not talk about it in front of him,” he said. “As you can see, it’s a touchy subject.”
Chapter 47
Solomand
During a battle, either your instincts kicked in and you became an unstoppable killing machine, or you choked and didn’t make it. But waiting for the fight to start—that was the worst part. The buildup of fear and nerves rose like a swollen storm cloud, rumbling and thick with a tension everyone could feel. It was like that now as the sun faded, a vibrant ball of reddish orange.
Solomand could sense the apprehension of his crew by the somber quiet and the lack of smartass comments from Jank. Will was still placid and methodical. He would do what had to be done without allowing emotion to get in the way, just like he was trained to do. Ivan too looked more centered than ever. He was born for this sort of thing. Having the two of them here was the one thing that eased Sol’s worries somewhat.
One hour.
Sol passed out breathing masks to Will, Rayn, and Ivan; red and white tubes jetted out of the respirators, allowing one to breathe when submerged in deep water. Will helped Jank set the codes on their wrist transmitters before handing them to everyone but Tristan and Zee. The girl hugged her knees to her chest. Sol frowned. Of all of them, Zee should be here least of all.
Tristan was helping Jank sync the transmission frequency code of all the transmitters; it was set to alternate every three seconds, making it impossible for the Corcyra interceptors to pick up. Something about Tristan seemed off. Sol frowned in his direction when he wasn’t looking.
