War of the Princes 03: Monarch (13 page)

Chapter 20: Sheer Town

I climbed over the rail before anyone could stop me.
“It's Rune!”

Please no. Please no. Please no.

My boots skidded on the damp wooden planks of the dock, and I dropped to my knees as near as I could be to his floating body. What happened to him? He couldn't be dead. I wouldn't let him be. We'd survived so much together. My chest ached at the thought of how distant I'd been from him. I was such an idiot. All this time on the ship, avoiding him because of my own weakness. Even after confronting my fears and going sword-to-sword, I hadn't been brave enough to tell him the way I felt.

Not caring about the danger of exposing myself to whatever had overtaken him, I reached out. I'd haul him up myself if I had to. He couldn't be dead!

Before I knew what was happening, water splashed around his body, he flipped over and smiling, grabbed onto my wrist to pull me into the harbor. I hit the surface with a shock and found it cool but not freezing. Bubbles floated up around me as I pushed myself upward for air. Did that really happen?

I broke from the water, sputtering, and saw Rune treading in place,
chuckling.

“
Gravity!
” I roared at him, water dripping down my nose. “I thought you were
dead
!”

“
Not this time,” he grinned.

I attacked him with a flurry of splashes.
“I'm going to
kill
you!”

“
You'll have to try harder than that.”

Everyone on the ship was groaning
and complaining, but I could hear Kyle laughing too. “Good one.”

If I wasn’t so furious, I might have cried.
    

The planks of the dock weren't very high over the surface, so he put his palms flat upon it and hoisted himself out of the water. I followed his lead, albeit less gracefully.

No sooner than we were on our feet, he stripped off his layered shirts to ring them out. It was the first time I'd ever seen him partially undressed, and the experience nearly caused me to black out on the docks, slump into the water and drown. Luckily, none of those things happened.

His body was the perfect balance of natural muscle earned from hours of training, battle experience and hard labor. Pale scars crisscrossed over a forearm an
d bicep where the Lurcher had bitten him, and a long slash ran from his left pectoral to his waist. I had no idea where he'd gotten the latter.

Rune caught me scowling at him. I suppose it was better that irritation had frozen on my face instead of the dumb shock I was feeling on the inside. He smiled, showing off his dimple and the combination nearly killed me.
“It was a joke.” When he saw that he wasn't getting the reaction he intended, that smile faltered. “People joke. That's normal, right? Did I do it wrong?”

“
No way, man, that was great,” Kyle said, encouraging him.

I pursed my lips and gave him a rueful smile.
“Where are your weapons? At the bottom of the harbor?” Taking in a deep breath, I had to try especially hard to peel my eyes off of him.

“
They're nearby,” Rune assured me. “And dry.”

He straightened up to face Carmine and I desperately wished he'd put his shirt back on.
“I did a sweep of the whole town. It's completely empty. Not a single person anywhere.”

“
But what about the lights we saw last night?” I asked.

“
Sun-charged,” Rune said. “All Northern coastal towns keep systems for that. It’s a safety precaution for ships, and a defensive trick. Whole cities have retracted their populations to high ground. Our troops see the lights, follow tactical invasion procedures, and find an empty city, only to be flanked by our enemy.”

“
So that's happened, and you thought it'd be best to explore this town by yourself?” I fumed.

Rune shrugged.
“It's no tactic this time. I found fliers on a bulletin board at the grocer's. Looks like our new Prince called everyone in this town away for a draft. Elderly and child alike.”

That shook me out of my stupor.
“I thought you said they didn't need to force their people to fight.”

Rune shrugged.

“It's never happened before,” Carmine said. To my relief, she seemed unaffected by Rune's lack of upper garments.

Jealousy, Kat? Who are you and what have you done with me?

Carmine crossed her arms and rested each hand on her holstered pistols. “He's planning something different.”

“
Desperate times,” Dylan murmured.

I squeezed my eyes closed and shook the errant thoughts from my mind.
“If he won't drain them, what will he do with so many people of different ages?”

No one
supplied an answer.

Rune shook a hand through his short black hair, flinging the water from it.
“Whatever the case, I don't think anyone will mind if we borrow a few things. There isn't much of value, but I found some parts and scrap metal in the shipyard and there were pickled foods on the market shelves.”

“
I'll check out that metal and see what I can use,” Kyle said and then whistled. “Sadie! Come.”

The Lurcher bounded from the open door of the cargo hold and came to stand at Kyle's side. She was quick to say the least, and her mouth was easily the size of Rune's scar.

He tensed slightly at her presence, but it was Carmine who shrunk away in disgust.

“
Are you sure it's safe?” I asked, twisting my drenched hair over my shoulder.

Rune gave me
a measured look. “The livestock has all gone wild. I'd say they've been away for more than a year.”

“
Creepy,” I whispered.

Kyle patted Sadie's side, seem
ing very at home with the flesh-and-metal hybrid. “That's something to see.”

Carmine backed slowly away from our Lurcher.
“I'd appreciate it if you all would head out and gather whatever you can find. Even small supplies can be useful. If you don't mind, I'll be in my bunk. A pilot must stay with her ship, etcetera.”

“Yes,” Dylan said. “Get some rest, you’re beginning to look like someone’s grandmother.”

*   *   *

After changing into a set of dry clothes, we all left the Flying Fish together. I insisted that we remain a group, but Dylan vanished at the first cross street, and Kyle took Sadie to the shipyard. Soon, it was just me and Rune wandering the cobble streets of a ghost town. He picked up his sword belt and rifle from a tree stump beside a short canal that led to the little bay.

Sheer Town was so quaint, it reminded me a little of Haven. Hand-painted signs hung over shop doors and large panes of showcase glass were dusty with disuse. Even with Rune armed and at my side, there was something unsettling about walking through an empty town. I felt as though a horde of depraved barbarians would come pouring from the buildings at any moment, swinging spears over their heads and shouting at us to get out.

Maybe my imagination was to blame for that, but the walls certainly didn't help. We stepped up to an old butcher shop. There wasn't any meat hanging from the hooks in the window. No flies or decay. It may have only been a dusty old store, but the walls told a story of their own. Names were scrawled over every inch of space, chiseled into wood and stone from frame to foundation.

Names, and numbers too.

Sherry Macaren, 1. Paul Tempen, 7. Theodoor Acker, 1.

Marwin Beaumont, 19. Valentin Reyer, 33. Alena Tempen, 3.

Once I noticed the words, I began to see them everywhere, stretching out over every surface but the cobble
d street. They flowed over doors and window frames too. From weedy garden gates to the grocery; homes, shops and sheds; from wooden eaves to chimney bricks, the names and their numbers were everywhere.

Celio Waterstilt, 5. Leila Junden, 2. Vidar Halloran, 21.

Emera Filore, 52. Rich Desmond, 1. Lamia Shepherd, 2.

Each number represented a life taken, and some of them were so high. Could they really take pride in killing so many Western soldiers? I wondered whether they realized that many people in Prince Raserion's army, Dragoon
and infantry alike, were decent and only trying to survive the life they were born into.

Then again, when you hold a sword and rifle, does it matter what your reasons are? Does it make a difference? In the end, both sides kill one another and perpetuate the ongoing cycle of violence and destruction. It's like Rune had said,
there’s no time to contemplate alternatives when an enemy has a knife blade pointed at your heart. Is that all that this war amounted to? A tradition of reflexive bloodshed?

I'd defended myself from Commander Stakes. There were more small tally numbers here than large ones. Was I any better than these people? I could imagine my name right there, beside the rest.

Katelyn Kestrel, 1.

We climbed the steps to a
storeroom with a pointed roof, and I reached out to the wall. My fingers ran over the names and I could feel the dips and indentations of each carved letter. All of these people had died too. This entire town was a memorial. It reminded me of the secret room we'd found in Cape Hill's Gold Palace. Lists and lists of Dragoons, their names written in secret by family members who were forbidden by law to mourn them. I looked up at my dark companion. He worked at the storeroom door, jiggling the handle and attempting to push it in with his shoulder.

Have you killed anyone, Rune?

I nearly asked him. The answer would be yes. I would feel conflicted, put off by the knowledge of it, but drawn in by my own sympathy for the course of his life. We would talk about it, and he'd become serious, then thoughtful, then silent. He'd be a conflicted Dragoon again, after being liberated so recently. No, I needed to support his freedom. The past was the past.

My curiosity, though, was relentless, rearing up at the challenge of my dismissal. Might Rune have fought and killed any of Sheer Town's soldiers? My stomach turned, and feeling haunted, I pulled my hand away. I couldn't know and it was probably better that way.

Rune began to blow air out of his mouth like he was blowing out a candle. Over and over, he spouted wind in the strangest way.

“
What are you doing?” I asked him.

One more push with his shoulder, and the jammed door creaked open. Dusting himself off with satisfaction, he peered inside.
“Whistling.”

It was such a disarmingly simple thing. My expression lightened and I felt myself smile. Deadly Rune Thayer didn't know how to whistle.

He hadn't chosen the life of a Dragoon. If he was the reason there was a name on one of these walls, it wasn't his fault. It was war. The princes should be held accountable for the way they've led their people.

Not thinking anything of my question, he stooped into the entryway, puffing again in his attempt to whistle. Unlatching the sword belt and swinging his rifle down from his shoulder, he propped them up beside the door, and made his way inside.

Listening to the sound of my own footsteps, I walked into the abandoned storehouse, following after Rune. A counter separated the entryway from the broad room beyond. Rows of shelves filled one half of the space, while crates and boxes packed the other. Some of the containers were broken, but most seemed intact. A second-story balcony wrapped around the inner walls, and presented even more shelves. A loft sat perched over the entry where we'd come in, but was too small to disrupt the open height of the pointed ceiling. The great windows of the far wall invited beams of sunlight within. Long sheets of airy cloth hung from the balcony catwalks, stirring at the whim of the lazy breeze. They seemed like over-long tapestries of blue, green and yellow, lacking any artful print upon them the way this place was missing people. Beautiful and lonely, like Sheer Town.

In this
violent world, there was good trapped within the trenches. Rune had proven that the oppression of a prince could be overcome. Cape Hill had been liberated. Despite the likely odds that he would have died in battle along with all those names outside, or the ones scratched in ink and paper within the Gold Palace, Rune was alive beside me, and learning to whistle.

He dug into one of the shelves, pulling out scraps of cloth, thread and fiber.
“Textiles.”

I milled through the aisles and found the same.
“Want to see what's upstairs?”

“
I probably should have let you lead the way in the first place.”

“
What are we looking for?” I asked as we headed up a flight of blond wood steps.

“
Anything useful.”