Dian splashed cool water over his face from the basin in his room. He didn’t want to think about his father. The man was dead.
Dian left his room an hour later, groomed and dressed. His sword was acting as temporary cane. He found what remained of his unit in the Inn’s parlor. No one was talking, but they were together, which is where he should have been instead of alone in the dark.
He avoided looking at Jade’s half of the room. She was a distraction he didn’t want right now. He needed to focus on what mattered. He’d lost sight of his goals.
“I’m still waiting for command to give us further orders, but I won’t lie, with everything going on we’ll probably be sitting for a bit,” he started.
“Doesn’t sound like a bad thing,” Kirst said, reclined in his chair, a hat covering his face.
“I should also tell you,” Dian’s eyes slipped and locked with hers, “You all deserve to know that our mission was a ruse. We were given that assignment to save face with Rosewall and because we were disposable. The Ambassador, it seems, was never in danger.”
Kirst started to laugh. “No shit?”
“Are you telling me this was a set up?” Minoza stood, his eyes bloodshot. He didn’t look to have slept since they’d arrived.
Dian proceeded calmly, though he knew emotion when he saw it. Minoza and Gandry had been close. “I’m afraid I am.”
Minoza kicked one of the tables over, sending the contents sailing across the parlor. The few half full drinks frothed and bubbled into puddles and the plates shattered. Dian would cover the tab, personally. “You give him a second chance by letting him join your fucking Legion and then send him out to die?”
“It’s inexcusable. I’m sorry I didn’t notice their intent sooner.”
“Hey, man, it’s not his fault. He was there with us, could have died just as easily,” Jesiah added, his tone soothing in a way Dian had never mastered. He supposed it was the sort of tone that came with six younger siblings.
“I’m not pissed at him,” Minoza spat, “I’m just pissed. My only friend is dead and I should have been there to help him. He’s the only reason I’m still here.” Minoza flexed his hands, a few tears spilling down his cheek. “He gave me a future when I thought I couldn’t have one.”
Minoza fell back into his seat, his head in his hands. Dian tried to keep himself together. Minoza’s words were hitting him harder than he thought possible. Jesiah was wrong, it was partly Dian’s fault. In the way a leader is responsible for any good or bad that happens under their watch.
“It’s no substitute, but the least I can offer is to do my best to see he his properly honored,” Dian said.
“Honored?” Minoza stood up and crossed the room. He went straight for Dian, in a calm purposeful stride that suggested he may hit him. Dian would not retaliate. “Fuck your Legion.” Then he left.
“Well, that was stressful,” Kirst said, hat now in his lap, “Thought he would punch you for sure. So what’s the plan then, Captain, we just sit?”
“Your time is yours for the next few days. Just make sure you report back in the mornings and evenings.”
“And, what is the stance on sobriety?”
Dian glared. “I’m not your mother and you’re not officially on duty, but I would strongly advise against losing your wits in this city.”
“Gotcha,” Kirst stood and stretched. “Well, this was fun. Let’s not do it again.” He started to head toward the dining room, no doubt to get plastered, but stopped near Dian. “What do you plan to do about that leg, Cap?”
Dian let out a breath. “I honestly don’t know. There isn’t a Legion office I can head to for new enchantments and the old ones are destroyed.”
“I may be some help there,” Kirst said, grinning.
“And how is that?”
“This is Ceol. I’m sure you’ve heard of Gideon Muray, dude can enchant anything and does a better job than most honest professionals.”
Dian hesitated, a bit surprised to find Kirst attempting to be helpful and that he was considering his opinion. “Corsairs are illegal.”
“Then stick with the cane, but if you change your mind I’m sure I could find him real quick. Up to you, boss.”
Dian grabbed at Kirst’s arm to stop him from leaving, swallowing his apprehension. Legal. Illegal. What did it matter anymore? “Find him. I’ll even offer to pay you.”
Kirst’s grin widened, his hand gently slapping Dian’s check, “Consider it a favor, boss. I’ll head out first thing tomorrow. Right now I need a drink or five.”
Dian wouldn’t hold his breath, but if Kirst pulled it off it would solve at least one of his problems. Using the cane as a boy had been fine, his father had been against any sort of prosthesis until Dian had mastered every basic Legion drill with his cane. It worked, Dian could manage a full obstacle course without aid, but getting there had taken its toll. That might have been when he truly started to hate his father. Running that course again and again, body full of bruises after each hard fall, and always, always told to ‘try again.’
He needed to eat something and while necessity had him order a dinner of meat, bread, and rice, he ordered several slices of pie and whatever they had that was sweet. He sat alone and was halfway through a second piece of cherry tart when Jade entered the dining room. He did a bad job of not looking. She was alone, surprisingly, and surveyed the dining room. Aside from himself, the only other people in the room were a couple eating and Kirst at the bar.
She took a deep breath and then turned on a heel, strolled to his table.
“Mind if I sit?”
He kicked out a chair with his left foot, taking a small amount of satisfaction in her sudden smile. He slid a plate toward her, some sort of chocolate mousse concoction that he was getting too full to eat anyway.
“Where’s Liam?” He asked, because it was odd to find them separate.
She shrugged. “Can’t find him. The jackass. He knows I need to tal—” She stopped and chewed her lip before going back to stuffing her mouth. “‘Meria, this is orgasmic.”
He was starting to anticipate being thrown by her, the things she said or did, and found himself smiling. Which was rare in itself, let alone given what he’d been through the last few days. He leaned back, extending his leg and trying not to brush her thigh accidentally.
“You know, you remind me of a character in a book,” she said between mouthfuls—taking her time to lick the chocolate from every inch of the spoon in a way that was not playing fair— “The Sovereign’s Thief, ever read it?
“Can’t say I have, but I think my sister owned a copy.”
She cast him a sideways smile, drawing the spoon down her tongue. He bit his cheek. Hard. “It’s the only book I’ve ever read. One of my only possessions, actually. I chose the name Avaris because of the thief character. That’s his surname.”
Dian tore his eyes from her mouth to look her in the eye when he asked, “Which character do I remind you of?”
She shrugged. “The prince, I think. He had very limited emotional range and all the charisma of a brick as well.”
She laughed, but he sat straight again, arms crossed. “I have more charm than a brick.”
“Not really,” she said, and he wasn’t sure if she was mocking or flirting. He had never been good at picking up on cues from women. He did notice that she stopped giving him nick-names. He couldn’t recall the last time she’d called him ‘brown-eyes.’
They lapsed into a comfortable silence while she finished the dessert and her gratuitous cleaning of that spoon. The jumbled sound of conversation drifted in from other tables, soothing and incoherent. He started to blink, longer and longer. At some point her legs had slid out, fitting under his, and she had closed her eyes completely. Falling asleep in the open was not wise, nor something he would have done in other circumstances. But his body was completely drained. He was warm and surprisingly comfortable. Then Jade had begun snoring gently, almost inaudibly, and he fell asleep sm
iling.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CREATIVE SOLUTIONS TO TOUGH PROBLEMS
1
Dawn was in a few short hours. Fel and Aldon had eaten, then fallen asleep trying to think of a way out of Meraton. Exhaustion had won out and so they woke, groggy, with their situation growing more dire as their chances of discovery increased.
Fel rubbed the grogginess from his eyes as he tried to check if Aldon was awake. If not, he’d have to wake the pampered prince—
“You’re up,” Aldon’s voice was almost cheery behind him. Fel adjusted, a scent wafting toward him…it might have been food. “I’m a morning person. Here.” He handed Fel a plate with…something smoking in a heap of off-putting colors.
“Look,” Aldon continued, “I know it doesn’t look appetizing, but I promise it’s edible.”
Fel wasn’t sure he’d agree.
“Never did much cooking and we didn’t have many leftovers.”
He sat upright, curling his legs beneath him and lifted the fork. The last person to prepare a meal for him was…dead.
He took a bite, closing his eyes, and swallowed. He was right. It was edible, but even that was a stretch. Fel ate a few more bites before he had to put it down.
“I wanted to say something, too,” Aldon started, voice serious, “I wanted to apologize for whatever happened to you before…I don’t know much about what goes on—” he scoffed, “Obviously, I know nothing. But that doesn’t mean I’m not sorry. I’d like to attempt to make it right, if I can.”
Fel had expected the words, blanket apologies now that he’d been called out. It was what any politician would do to save face. But Fel did not expect to believe him.
“So, how do you suggest we get out of here?”
If they couldn’t leave by roads, land, or air, then by sea was the only option left. Fel knew Meraton. A major river ran through the city, ideal for trading by boat. Meraton still used barges for easy transportation of goods between Azelmaine and Lucindra as well as the smaller towns along the river’s course. There were dockyards, though the closest to their current location had been out of use as long as Fel had lived there. Then there was the issue in where to go once they reached this dockyard. Sailing out was just as dangerous as walking out.
“Under? You’re saying you want to get out of Meraton...underwater?” Aldon clarified. Aldon had been positive until this point, now there was an issue? Fel frowned. He didn’t consider himself prideful, but if someone like Aldon doubted him…
“It will be hard. It may not work at all. But I think it’s possible,” Fel said, his hands moving slower than usual. It may not work. Or they may not get as far as the dockyard. Or they could get there and no boats would be left, leaving them with nothing to enchant.
Aldon smiled, his face brightening like a sunny day. Fel felt just as warmed. “You know this sounds insane? I may not know as much about enchantments as you, but I do know that it wouldn’t be easy. There’s a reason it’s never been done.”
Fel straightened, the effects of that smile and the confidence that Aldon was showing, it was not like anything Fel was used to. “I’ll have to piece something together.”
“Then let’s go,” Aldon said, marching for the door. Fel caught him by the arm, since he couldn’t yell to get his attention, and then quickly let go. They both paused. Fel decided to steamroll over the moment before it got weird.
“You can’t go looking like that,” he gestured to the white hair. Then he did a quick, obscuring enchantment on Aldon’s coat and the man’s face became almost blurred, something easily overlooked but the fabric wouldn’t support much else. His hair was covered with a hood.
The air outside was crisp and the cloying sweet scent was horribly undercut by the stench of death. A lot of enchantments in a short amount of time had been pushed onto the city. Fel wasn’t positive it would hold together. The place was in a shoddy state to begin with and Kade was being too lax on what he allowed. Oh well. Not Fel’s problem.
Fel had lived in Meraton—more or less—for years, yet he nearly lost his way twice. The landscape of the city had changed. Buildings collapsed, carts and vehicles overturned. Gaping potholes and the smoldering remains of fires. It was gratuitous. Wasteful. It was the work of Amaria, not Kade. He gave her too much power.
Fel kept his attention on their movements. Thankfully, such a large space meant the Free Chanter forces were spread out and so they encountered no one of consequence.
The dockyard was a half-mile long strip of thick wood beams in the water stretching to a large steel beamed hanger. There were a few tiny boats bobbing in the water, civilian fishing or recreational vessels not nearly big enough for what they would need. Fel hoped something remained of a boat with lower cabins or this would be a lot harder. He didn’t want to consider having to try a different dockyard. They had been lucky so far.
Inside the hangar were the rusted remains of several ships. Wood warping, tilted at odd angles as their supports were eaten away by nature. The place reeked of algae and mold with a lingering hint of fish. There was a steady echo of a drip somewhere in the miasma of the forgotten.
“What now?” Aldon said, his face betraying a hint of doubt at the scene. In this instance, it was probably well placed.
“We need to find one with the least amount of holes that has lower decks,” he said.
They ventured further into the hangar when the drip-drip was drowned by the crash of something heavy falling over. Aldon pushed into Fel’s side, searching for a direction of the sound. But the place was hollow metal and echoed too much to pinpoint. Their shoulders were touching, a tactical position. Purely tactical. Aldon had been startled. Fel took a deep breath and swallowed down the unwelcome flutter in his chest.
With a few motions, Fel worked an enchantment that showed two silhouettes behind a stack of broken crates. Fel motioned for Aldon to take the lead, since it was unlikely that they were Chanters, but scared civilians.
“Hello?” Aldon called, stepping forward carefully. “We’re not Free Chanters.”
A man stood with hands raised. He wore glasses and a bloody, dusty vest. Fel moved in front of Aldon, but was pushed away.
“His hands are up, they’re not attacking,” Aldon said. Another man stood up next to him, though his face was more severe and he did not raise his hands. They were both young, but the scowling one was practically a kid. He couldn’t have been more than twenty.
“We come in peace,” said the one with glasses. An enchanter, clearly. He had a nasally voice, like he was constantly suffering from allergies, and there were gloves hanging over his breast pocket. His hands only moved when he pushed the bridge of the glasses further up his nose.
“We won’t hurt you,” Aldon said, “We’re running from the same enemy.”
Fel bristled at the word ‘enemy.’ Even if it was true, it was jarring to hear.
“We were searching the city with our team and then chaos,” continued the spectacled one, “We were separated from our unit, not sure how any of them faired. I hope they made it out, though. This is Mian Ordessa and I’m Chester Wakefield.”
“You’re Legion?” Aldon asked.
“I…yes, um, that is…”
“It’s okay,” Aldon said, looking relieved. Fel shook his head. If he wasn’t a fan of politicians—though he was starting to accept that ‘not all politicians’ were monsters—he really didn’t trust Legionnaires. “We’re not enemies, I promise. You can put your hands down. I’m Aldon and,” Aldon gestured, “This is Fel. We’re trying to get out of Meraton.”
“How? They’re patrolling all the exits and there’re enchantments up all over the place. No one’s getting out. At least here we could fish and the water is technically fresh.”
Fel wrinkled his nose. That was a bit drastic. It had only been a day.
“We were supposed to find a couple of politicians when it became clear we’d be lucky to live,” Chester continued.
“Politicians?” Aldon glance
d at Fel, then continued, “You’ve found one of them, anyway. I was captured along with Lai—the Rosewall Ambassador.” It wasn’t the first time Fel had suspected something more to the Ambassador’s betrayal. Just how close had they been?
“What happened to the Ambassador?” Chester asked.
Aldon took a deep breath. “Not important right now, but there was nothing you could have done for him anyway.” Aldon unclenched his fists, turning to the boats. “We have a plan to get out of here,” He paused, then turned to Fel and added, “I’m going to ask them to come with us.”
Fel blinked. Was Aldon trying to clear it with him first? Asking his opinion? It was a statement, not a question, but he had said it in Sign and that meant Fel could protest the idea. He shrugged, feigning indifference, since he was feeling many things right then and not all of it easily explained.
“You’re welcome to come with us,” Aldon said, “But we need to find a boat that’s in decent condition.”
“Over here,” Chester motioned for them to follow, “Mian and I have looked over everything in here for signs of stability. He thought we might be able to sail out too, but I thought it was too obvious and slow. They’d surely see us and blow us out of the water.”
“We’re not going on the water,” Aldon said, “We’re going under it.”
Chester halted, tilting his head and looking very much like a confused puppy. “How on earth do you plan to do that?”
Aldon didn’t pause or hesitate. “Fel will enchant it.”
“Does he have Glint?”
“He’s a Chanter,” Mian said, speaking for the first time. He didn’t seem pleased by the fact, but then, that might just be his face.
Chester, however, acted very animated. He took a step back, shrinking, and his large eyes grew wider beneath the glasses. “A Chanter? You mean, a Free Chanter.”
Aldon rolled his eyes. “Think logically for a second, if he was a Free Chanter, you’d already be captured and brought in.”
Catalyst (The Second Cycle Book 1) Page 23
