Scimitar War (29 page)

Edan urged the winds to a steady intensity that pushed him along at a good pace without wasting energy; he doubted there would be volcanoes to fuel his thirst for fire where he was going. He pushed north, following the receding ships, trying to suppress the madness enough to think.

Someone had tried to stop him, something under the sea. A flash of memory: bobbing shapes beside a ship, Cynthia Flaxal making signs with her hands, then leaping into the sea to join her mer allies.
She sent them to stop me
, he thought with some satisfaction. She must have gone north, or been taken by the emperor’s ships.
To Tsing
, he thought as rage flooded over him once more.

There they would have their revenge.

≈

Akrotia emerged from the haze of smoke and steam, a glowing juggernaut heading straight for
Indomitable
and her armada.

Joslan scowled in disappointment. “It would appear that the mer, if they were indeed mad enough to attack that thing, have failed.”

“It doesn’t look as if any harm was done, but if they damaged it underwater…” Betts shrugged. “It’s moving in this direction, Admiral.”

Joslan snapped his spyglass closed and glared at the oncoming monstrosity as if he could stop it with sheer belligerence. Whether it was coming after the ships or simply continuing up the island chain, he didn’t know, but he knew how to find out. “Increase our pace and take us to leeward. Signal
Stalwart
,
War Hammer
,
Joyous
and
Bright Star
to form up with us. Signal to Captain Donnely;
Cape Storm
and
Cloud Drake
are to escort the supply ships to Tsing at their best speed. Donnely is to report to the emperor personally about our situation here.”

“Aye, aye, Admiral!”

It took about an hour for Akrotia’s intentions to become clear. To the northwest, the sails of the supply ships and their escorts were growing smaller. Joslan’s armada sailed in tight formation to the west of the floating city, a much closer and more tempting target. But Akrotia continued on its original course, coasting up the Shattered Isles as if each was a waypoint on a chart.

“We’re pacing it at a steady four knots, Admiral. All ships report in fit for action, and the supply ships are pulling away easily.” Captain Betts chuckled. “I’ll bet Captain Donnely is chafing at being sent home as an escort.”

“Captain Donnely will have his chance,” Joslan said as he shifted his gaze from Akrotia for a moment to appraise the warships’ deployment. “Well done, Captain. Keep the armada on alert, but stand the men down for now. We’re in for a lengthy sail, unless I miss my guess, and I want everyone in crack shape if we need to go into action.”

“Aye, sir.”

Joslan fixed his glass once again upon Akrotia. The city’s forward rim was white with foam as it pushed aside massive amounts of water.
How does it move so easily?
he wondered. He studied the structure intently—the towers, spires, walkways, the archways of stone gilded with what looked like gleaming-hot metal. So determined was he to find some point of weakness that he didn’t hear Betts’ question.

“Admiral?”

“What?” he grunted.

“Do you think we’ll have to fight that thing, sir?”

“Without a doubt,” he replied without turning his spyglass from Akrotia. “But make no mistake, Captain, when we do, it will be on
our
terms. It may be a two-mile-wide monster that can bend the winds and summon the very fires of the Nine Hells, but there has to be a way to kill it. We simply need to devise the right strategy. Nothing is unbeatable, Captain.
Nothing
.”

“Aye, sir! We’ll find a way!”

Joslan appreciated the man’s vehement agreement and hoped his attitude trickled down to the rank and file. To attack something like Akrotia was a lot to ask even of a warship’s crew; their confidence was essential for victory. As for himself…Joslan grimaced as his stomach churned. Thirty years of naval battles had not prepared him to face something like this.

≈

*Akrotia has broken free, Trident Holder,* Chaser reported, pale with dread and pumping his gills hard from his recent swim. *It used the volcano to burn the ironweed cables away from the moorings. It goes north, after the warships.*

*We have failed, Father,* Tailwalker signed, his fins flat against his body in defeat.

*It was a good plan, Tailwalker,* Broadtail signed. *You could not know it could use the mountain’s fire to burn the lines. It would have worked if the island had no fire, and if the landwalkers had had the courage to attack.*

Chaser’s own fins drooped as he watched his despairing friends, then straightened as his fervor flared. *It
is
a good plan!* he signed. *And the landwalkers cannot be fools forever. Our hooks are still attached to Akrotia, and they trail the cables; only the ends were burned. It moves slowly. We can follow, and bring more ironweed and augers. Then, if it ventures again into shallow waters, someplace where there is no volcano, we will be ready!*

He flared his fins and watched Tailwalker and Broadtail’s body language and the hue of their scales as they shifted through the spectrum. Tailwalker’s colors stabilized first, dark and confident, and he looked toward his father. Slowly, the trident holder’s scales settled at a bright green.

*We will follow Akrotia,* Broadtail said, adding quickly as Tailwalker twitched in excitement. *But not you, my son! I will summon the entire school to do as Chaser suggests. The floating city moves slowly, so we can prepare well ahead. But we must also inform Seamage Flaxal Brelak; if anyone can fight this thing, she can. You, my eldest son,* he turned to Chaser, *and you, Chaser, must swim north and find Shelly. She has been following the seamage. Get word to Seamage Flaxal Brelak that Akrotia comes. Tell her what we plan to do.*

*We will get word to her, Father!* Tailwalker signed, flaring his fins and casting a thankful glance to Chaser. Without a word signed, the two stripped off their baldrics, handing their weapons over to the trident holder’s honor guard. *We will not need weapons, and can swim faster without them. Farewell, Father. Send word if you find a place to immobilize Akrotia.*

*I will, my son. Go!* Then, before Chaser and Tailwalker flipped their tails, he added, *And be safe.*

≈

The
Lady Belle
eased into the water and floated free, riding high on her new, gold-painted waterline. The ship was trimmed up beautifully. She looked very little like
Cutthroat
, and nothing at all like a corsair. As the ship was pulled over to the dock with long lines, the crew cheered enthusiastically, then hustled off to haul the rest of the cargo down to the dock and stow it aboard. They would be off to Tsing at the next ebb of the tide.

Parek cheered with them, then turned to the tall woman beside him and doffed his hat. “You’ve done a beautiful job on her, Mistress Rella. My compliments to you and your crew.” He bowed and flashed a disarming smile.

“Thank you, Captain.” Rella nodded, but her smile seemed forced, and her eyes flashed with a hint of suspicion that he’d seen smoldering there for days. This was unfortunate. If things didn’t play out in the next five minutes as he had planned, there would be blood on the dock, and it wouldn’t be his.

Their cargo, offloaded to lighten the ship before hauling, had raised many eyebrows. Despite Parek’s assurance that their peculiar mix of finery was common for ships trading along the Sand Coast, his crew had heard whispered speculation among the shipyard workers. They would not be safe until this load of booty had been sold and then resold in Tsing, and there was no trail for an inquisitive imperial investigator to follow. Only then would he and his crew be free and rich. Of course, that depended on no unfortunate rumors following them north.

Most of the crew had wanted to silence the shipyard workers permanently, but Parek had staved them off. Leaving a few dozen dead men, women and children behind them could cause more problems than it would solve. There was always the chance that someone might escape; if that happened, more than rumors would eventually reach the authorities. Just one live witness to murder, and they would become hunted men. He smiled again at Rella and motioned one of his men to bring forth a heavy coffer.

“Your payment, as we agreed,” he said smoothly. “And please accept this gift as my personal thanks for your efforts.” He handed her a second box, smaller than the coffer, and intricately carved of dark mahogany.

“That isn’t necessary, Captain,” she said, though she accepted the box grudgingly when he pressed it into her hands. “We performed a service, and have been well—” Her protests faltered and her eyes widened as she opened the box and caught sight of its contents. “Oh…my!”

“Do you like it?” he asked as he stepped close and peered down with her. On a bed of black silk lay a sapphire necklace that he had selected from the best of Bloodwind’s treasures. Seven stones as blue as the deepest sea, the largest as big as the end of his thumb, were set in a web of silver. It was worth a fortune, and ten times that if it would buy her silence. He looked into her eyes and said, “I thought the sapphires would match your eyes, but even these gems pale in comparison.”

Rella stared wide-eyed at him for a long moment, and her cheeks flushed pink, but then she pulled back. “Captain Torek, I cannot accept this.” She closed the lid and proffered the box. “It’s too much.”

“Nonsense,” he said, refusing to take it back. “If you don’t want it for yourself, then sell it and distribute the money among your people. Consider it a bonus for a job well done. The
Lady Belle
has never looked so splendid.”

“She is a fine ship,” Rella said, reluctantly tucking the box under her arm. “She will serve you well in the north.”

“Actually, I was thinking of hiring a captain for her in Tsing, and seeing how I could tolerate a life on land.” He cocked an eyebrow at her. “I’ve enough to retire in comfort. It’s not so very far away, you know. I would welcome a visit. Of course, Tsing is a large city, and you wouldn’t know how to find me. But I know how to find you, and I can come back easily enough.”

He almost laughed at the flash of suspicion on Rella’s face before she forced a smile. “A visit would be welcome, Captain.” He could tell that she lied, and was obviously unsure if his statement was a promise or a threat. Just as he had intended.

“Then do not be surprised if I show up on your doorstep one day. I may even contract your master to build a ship for me.” He extended his hand to her and smiled genuinely. “Thank you again, Mistress Rella.”

“You are welcome, Captain,” she said, shaking his hand firmly. “Now, if you want to make use of the ebb tide, I believe we have some work to do.”

“Indeed, we do!” he agreed, holding her hand just a little longer, and a little stronger, than necessary. He watched her walk down the dock, then turned to his busy crew as they reloaded all of the cargo back aboard the
Lady Belle
. Parek joined in with good humor. This was all going to work out just fine.

Chapter 21

The Devil’s Due

Cynthia blinked and squinted, blinded by the harsh midday sun as she was escorted onto
Resolute
’s main deck. After more than a week in the warship’s brig, any light brighter than a low flame was dazzling. She shifted Kloe awkwardly in her arms, rattling the manacles that had been affixed to her wrists before she left her cell. Murmuring to calm him, she tucked the blanket over his head—he didn’t like the bright light any more than she did—and poked Mouse back inside. Fortunately, the sprite heeded her warning and kept quiet, huddled inside the baby’s blanket. She doubted their escort would tolerate a petulant seasprite.

They stopped there, surrounded by marines, as a sailor knelt to clamp leg irons around her ankles, then moved to do the same to Feldrin.

“Belay that!” an officer hissed in an exasperated tone. “You can’t put leg irons on a peg leg! Just put one on his good ankle, and attach it to his wrist manacles.”

“Odea’s green garters, would ya look at that!”

Feldrin’s exclamation brought her eyes up, but all she could see was blue-clad marines. Feldrin’s height gave him an advantage over her, but from the tone of his voice, Cynthia wasn’t sure she wanted to see what he saw.

“Silence there!” the officer ordered, forestalling her question, though it didn’t stop her husband from muttering under his breath.

“Come along now, ma’am,” said a young marine as he touched her arm to urge her forward. Finally reaching the warship’s broad gangplank, the marines parted to let them cross, and Cynthia saw what had elicited Feldrin’s outburst.

“Odea help us,” she muttered. Her knees began to quake as she stared at the horde of people crowding the head of the pier. There were thousands of them packed shoulder to shoulder, held back by a single row of soldiers. Though of varied dress and walks of life, they all had two things in common: grim looks on their faces, and black scarves tied around their necks. In a flash of realization, she knew that these were the families and loved ones of the sailors who had perished on the
Clairissa
and
Fire Drake
. Their lives had been shattered by her failure, and she could see by their faces that they were here for their due.

“We step off this ship, Cyn, and even Odea won’t be able to help us,” Feldrin said. Before she could reply, a voice cried out from the crowd, and their tight procession halted.

“It’s the sea witch!”

“Give her over!” another yelled. “We want justice!”

“Aye! Justice!”

“Who in the Nine Hells invited all these people?” Cynthia heard Commodore Henkle hiss to his first mate. “Lieutenant, double the guard! The prisoners are not to be harmed.”

A cacophony of shouts, curses and muttered oaths blazed through the crowd like a brushfire, and the mass of humanity surged against the thin line of soldiers. Marines filed down the gangplank, and soon a double row of interlocked shields fended off the grasping hands and pressing bodies. The uproar increased as Cynthia and Feldrin, surrounded by marines, descended the gangplank. As they reached the bottom of the ramp, sunlight glinted on something overhead, a bottle thrown by someone in the crowd. It fell short, but shattered on a marine’s iron helm. The crowd cried out as one, and garbage, bottles and even a few bricks and cobbles flew at them. Officers bellowed orders and the soldiers drew swords, but the crowd remained undaunted.

Cynthia suddenly thought of a feeding frenzy of predatory fish, their sharp teeth flashing instant death, overwhelming a school of baitfish. Afterward, there was nothing but thousands of tiny silver scales twinkling in the sunlight as they slowly sank. In her rising panic, she clutched Kloe closer and bent over to protect him. Something splashed beside the pier, and she started with a sudden realization: though chained, she was not defenseless.

The sea was near.

“Feldrin!” she called out over the shouts and curses, unable to see him. “If they break through, try to reach the water!”

“The water? Cyn, I don’t think you should—”

But Cynthia never found out what Feldrin thought. A well-aimed stone struck her temple, and the glancing blow sent her to her knees. She heard Feldrin bellow, but his voice sounded far away. Mouse poked his head out of the blanket, and his worried little face swam before her eyes. She reached up to feel the gash, and a wave of dizziness rolled over her. She reached out and caught herself, and the blood on her hand smeared the stones of the pier. A drop of blood fell onto the swaddling blanket, and Kloe began to cry.