The Bloody Quarrel (The Complete Edition) (48 page)

Kemal inspected the sky carefully. His fleet had been buffeted by a short, sharp storm the day before, giving them a taste of what it would be like in another moon or so. He could not wait any longer.

“High one, we are ready,” Gokmen announced. “The attack ships only await you.”

Three of the ships had been converted over the past two days, their masts taken down and the soldiers transferred there. Skeleton crews would sail three of the other ships, towing the attack ships into position, where they could row into the harbor after dark. The other two ships would stay out to sea overnight and then sail into Berry in the morning, when the harbor had been taken.

Kemal ignored the former slave master and turned instead to his agent. “Your men are ready, Abbas?” he asked.

“I shall return there now and then we will strike, two turns of the hourglass before dawn,” Abbas promised. He had sailed out, hidden in the hold of a small fishing vessel, crewed by a pair of Gaelish that were being very well paid for their efforts. He had brought with him vital information about the harbor defenses.

“They will not trouble you?” Kemal asked.

“They think I carry important cargo and I have been careful not to say anything in their language they might understand. When we return, two of my men will dispose of them. By the time they are missed, it will be too late.”

Kemal nodded in approval. He had left two score of his soldiers with Abbas when he left a moon before, in case a rescue of Feray and the boys could be arranged. Now those men would kill the guards on the floating boom made of boats and then open it up to Kemal’s ships. Without their masts, the ships would be much harder to see and, once on the docks, would pour soldiers onto Gaelish soil. Abbas’s men, who had spent the last moon learning Berry’s streets, would then guide them through the darkened capital. If all went to plan, Fallon would wake to discover Kemal was inside his castle and he was at the mercy of the Kottermanis. Then he could make sure he had Gaelland firmly in his hand while he took his leisurely revenge. If something went wrong then he had a second plan, to turn Fallon’s strategy against him.

“I shall see you at the docks, high one.” Abbas bowed and hurried away.

Kemal looked up at the sky. It was mid-afternoon and all that remained to be done was ensure his men were fed and well rested for their night’s work. He leaned on the ship’s rail and imagined his nightmares over, with Fallon in his grasp.

A gentle hand touched his shoulder and he knew without looking it was Feray. Nobody else would have dared. “Are you sure about this, my husband?” she asked softly.

“Did that Gaelish bastard put some sort of spell on you?” he asked. “Why else would you take his side in this?”

“I am on nobody’s side but yours,” she said angrily, her eyes flashing. She looked beautiful that way and it only reminded him more sharply of what he had lost that night to Fallon. He had thought, after being without his wife for more than a moon, that they would sleep little that first night. Yet he had found himself unable to be a man for her. It had to be Fallon’s fault. Until he brought Fallon down, he would not be able to rise. Her sympathy had only put even more of an edge on his temper.

“I think of what your father might say. Of how this will be explained,” she continued.

“He will hear about Gaelland being brought into the Empire and that is all he will want to know. I shall tell him that Aidan and his sons fought back and were killed, removing that problem from our new rule,” Kemal said icily.

“But what if you lose? What if they are ready for you?”

He laughed. “They are but peasants. We are warriors. And we have Abbas. He knows what they have been doing. They do not stand a chance against us.”

She reached out and gripped his arm. “My love, you have not seen them fight. I told you: Fallon took on a roomful of men to save me and your sons. The fact I am standing here now shows what a fighter he is. And his troops took down the King’s guards in less than a turn of the hourglass. I have been without you for a moon. I could not stand to lose you for longer.”

He turned away slightly. “I am no good to you now,” he said bitterly. “I am but half a man. Fallon robbed me of the other half. I have to take it back.”

She pulled on his arm. “You are still the man I love. And as for that, do not worry. It means nothing to me and it will return to you soon. Maybe even now. Let me show you—”

“It means everything to me,” he said coldly. “Manhood is not something that can be given. It can only be taken. I shall return to you as a real man once more.”

He knew she wanted to say more but it was simple to him. Seize back his honor and return to her a man, the new ruler of Gaelland.

“Gokmen! I leave now! You will watch my family as if they were your own until I return!” he shouted.

*

He brooded on the slow trip into Berry. Abbas had said the Gaelish would use their cramped, twisting streets as a weapon, while springing ambushes from the rooftops. He planned to split his force into two, where each could come to the aid of the other if they became held up, while his archers had been told to look to the rooftops at all times. Despite Feray’s words, he had no doubt his men were much better fighters. Against men who were half-asleep and disorganized, it would be easy.

They took care to stay out of sight until night fell, then the attack ships were towed to within a mile of the harbor, then the rowers bent their backs. The ships were not designed to be rowed but it was a short trip. Lanterns along the boom, thoughtfully provided by the Gaelish, showed them where to go. The signal that Abbas had the boom in control was to see the lanterns raised and lowered repeatedly. Kemal watched for that sign while, packed onto the deck of his ship, soldiers waited for their chance to bring a new province into the Empire.

*

Brasso was bored. Not just a little bored but hugely bored. Not to mention cold, wet, miserable and hungry. Back when ships had been disappearing, walking the boom at night must have been exciting, nerve-racking and fearful. Every noise could have been selkies. Keeping watch for Kottermani ships was just not the same. Walking up and down these stinking fishing boats for four turns of the hourglass was not his idea of fun. It wasn’t why he had sweated and trained with Captain Fallon for so long. Tonight was cold, with a persistent drizzle that worked its way under his cloak and ran down his back. He trudged on, hunched against the weather, praying for the bell that announced each turn of the hourglass. Just two more and it would be dawn and he could go and have a hot breakfast – and go back to sleep. Maybe even find a woman who was impressed that one of Captain Fallon’s recruits had kept the city safe through the night.

A splash made him turn out towards the sea. The sound of rain on the boat timbers and on the hood of his cloak had dulled his senses but he was sure that sounded like an oar. But who would be out in this weather, at this time of night?

He strained to see something though the gusting rain, then heard a muffled cry from the next boat over. He looked across to see figures struggling in the light cast by the lantern hanging from the boat’s mast, a lantern that was now swinging wildly as men fought on the boat. Even as he watched in horror, a sword flashed in the dim light and someone went down. The other two men kneeled over the body, stabbing down again and again.

Brasso realized, with a spurt of fear that banished the cold, that the guard on the next boat was dead. And for attackers to have got that far, they had to have killed everyone else that side. He turned in the other direction and began to run, desperate to get away and sound the alarm. Except there were figures there too, looming out of the darkness. A sword swung at his neck and he jumped backwards, fumbling to get his blade out. But it was caught in his wet cloak and, as he struggled, another sword sliced at him. It cut along his chest and, worse, overbalanced him so he went backwards into the freezing water with barely a time for a shout.

*

Abbas tapped his bloodied knife on the mast of the center boat and received answering knocks in reply. He smiled in relief. The boom was theirs and no alarm had been raised. He snapped out orders and his men sawed at the wet ropes holding the boats together. One by one they parted, then the men took up oars and began to row the boats apart, opening a gap through the middle more than wide enough for the ships to come through.

Once he judged they were far enough apart, the lanterns hanging from the masts were raised and lowered, again and again, a signal for the Prince’s ships that Berry lay defenseless before them.

*

Brasso hung on to a rope with one hand while he frantically kicked off his boots and untied his cloak with the other. He was a child of the water, having grown up on boats, and the distance to the docks was not far. Except he had never tried to swim in heavy wool clothes before, nor with his blood leaking into the water with every heartbeat. The wound on his chest hurt like the pits of Zorva but it told him he was still alive: something not one of his fellow boom guards could say. Part of him wanted to climb back on board the boat and get some revenge. But the rest of him said he had to raise the alarm. He kicked off his trews and shivered. Time was running out. The cold water would kill him as surely as a knife. He pushed away from the boat and began to swim towards the lights of the dock, trying not to think about what might be coming through the boom after him.

*

Kemal saw the faint lights moving up and down and clapped his hands with delight, feeling the excitement of the hunt course through him. He had waited in the dark just outside the harbor, pacing up and down the deck as he imagined things going wrong. The rain was both a blessing and a curse – it would help disguise their presence but the water would stretch the archers’ bowstrings and reduce their range and power.

“Now!” he cried.

The sailors bent to their task, driving the ships through the water. Now was not the time to worry about noise, only speed, and they formed into single file, Kemal’s ship at the front, driving for the widening gap between the lanterns. His men wanted his to be the third of the ships through but he would rather burn in Zorva’s pits for an eternity than wait any longer. The ships tore through the gap in the boom and headed right for the marked place on the docks, where more of Abbas’s men stood, waving more lanterns in the rain. Kemal clenched his fist. Everything was going to plan and the Gaelish did not even know he was loose in their city.

*

Brasso reached the nearest jetty and reached up with a half-frozen hand for a tarred rope that hung down from the wooden platform. His feet and hands felt like lumps of ice and, blessedly, he had long since lost feeling in his balls. Yet his chest still hurt. He hung on the rope, panting, knowing that his strength was slipping away with every heartbeat. It was dangerously tempting to give up and let the cold claim him. But Captain Fallon was relying on him. The Kottermanis were in the harbor and, unless he raised the alarm, would be in the city soon after. With a cry that was half defiant shout, half agonized groan, he hauled himself up and out of the water, lying on the rough wooden jetty. Again he wanted to just lie there but he could not let the bastards win. Not when they had killed his mates, cut him and left him to die in the freezing water. He rolled to his feet and pushed himself into a rough trot. He had come this far. They would not beat him.

*

Bran had his feet up on the harbormaster’s table, enjoying the warmth from the fire and trying not to watch the sand trickle through the hourglass, which would mean he had to go out in the wind and the rain to check on the guards. It felt like a pointless guard duty but Fallon had ordered it, so there he was. The Kottermanis would not be out in this weather. They would be sailing for home. He did not want to go out in it, for Aroaril’s sake! He was tempted to close his eyes but that would be setting a bad example to the rest of the guards, who sat around playing dice. A few moons back he would have gone to sleep anyway, but that was before he met Fallon. Being punched in the throat by the Captain had been a wake-up call for Bran. He had despised most of the officers, especially the coward Quinn and the brutal bastard Kelty, both dead now. But Fallon had shown him something different, and now he was an officer himself.

His memories were abruptly cut short by a thump at the entrance, sounding like a body hitting it. He jumped out of his chair and threw open the door, the rest of his men abandoning their dice game, to see one of his recruits hanging on to the lintel. He was soaking wet, without any trews on, and his shirt was torn and bloodstained. His face was white and he was shivering violently.

It took Bran a heartbeat to recognize him. “Brasso! What happened? Get him something warm to drink and a blanket,” he snapped over his shoulder.

Brasso let go of the doorframe and lunged at him, frozen hands raking at his face and his breath coming in gasps. “Kottermanis. In harbor. Everyone else dead,” he gasped, then his eyes rolled up and he slumped towards the floor.

Bran lowered him to the floor but could not spare the time to take care of him.

“Get those lights out!” he ordered, darting out into the rain, blinking his eyes clear of the brightness and peering into the rain and the gloom. It took a few moments for his eyes to adjust and then he saw a small group of lanterns down by the Kottermani jetty, waving up and down. He looked out to the harbor and saw white water: big ships were moving through where the boom should be. Already they were closing in on the jetties and he realized, without Brasso, the first he would have known of it was when the rowers burst through his door. He cursed himself but did not take too long doing so, because time was running out. He was tempted to race down and kill the men with the lanterns but realized with a sick sense of horror that the harbor was lost. The only chance was to try and save the city.

“What do we do, sir?” one of his recruits asked.

“Drag Brasso over by the fire and cover him with a blanket. If he lasts until the end of this, and if any of us are still alive, we will come back for him. You four, race to Captain Fallon and tell him there are hundreds of Kottermanis in the harbor. I’ll wake the guard company and block the main road to the castle, try and slow them down. Try to get back before we are all killed,” Bran said. “Go now!”