Welcome to Chapter 11. I’m really excited for y’all to read this. This is the point of no return.
Previously: The Talon hunkered down to ride out the storm. Gorm instructed Kye in hatto, but she was plagued by insidious visions.
Currently: The Talon make headway toward Rom, but a burning merchant ship presents an opportunity they can’t pass up — to their regret.
A Dread Tide Rising is a serialized, pulp-flavored, epic fantasy novel set in the world of Thalrassa. It follows the Talon, a group of mercenaries, thieves, and smugglers, as they come face-to-face with an ancient enemy intent on the destruction of the Rakkian Empire.
New to ADTR? Catch up on all the chapters here. You can learn more about the members of the Talon here and explore Thalrassa-related lore here. The map of Thalrassa can be found here.
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Chapter 11
Salt spray wet Kye’s face.
Sparrowhawk knifed through the waves, her double hulls cutting easily through the water. Her sails boomed full, filled with the earth’s breath, while beneath her steering oar, Mali’s realm gleamed blue-green.
They had left the Thousand Isles behind two days ago. Two days without spotting land, with only the sun on the water, the wind in their hair, and each other for company. Despite Padraig’s speculation that they could reach Rom quickly, fickle winds had initially slowed their travel, and they expected to reach port in the city on the morning of the third day.
For Kye, they were two of the best days of her life. She continued learning the ropes of life aboard ship, quite literally. Derro and Callan took turns showing her how to control Sparrowhawk in all conditions. In turn, she regaled the twins with stories of life in Rakka. Though experienced, both sailors were relatively young, barely older than Kye herself, and life in a stone-built city seemed strange and exotic to them.
A dark smudge on the far horizon changed all that. It hung there, a gray serpent blurring the boundary between sky and sea. Kye’s heart fell as soon as she saw it.
“Smoke! Smoke three points off the starboard bow!” Derro called out a split second later.
The Talon gathered silently near the starboard rail. All present knew that smoke on the open water usually meant one thing. Disaster. Whether an accident, an act of war, or the work of pirates, it meant that a ship was aflame and the crew likely dead or dying. Dead was preferable. The thought of floating there in the water, watching your boat burn to char around you, waiting for the sharks to finish you off was enough to send a shiver down the spine of the strongest.
“We should go help,” Wynne said, a hitch in her voice. “Could be folks in need of saving.”
“What’s that to us?” Hax asked. “Best to mind our own business. Rom’s still a day off and we’re behind schedule already.”
“You’re a monster!” Wynne shot at the big man. She wrapped her arms around herself and turned to stare at the smoke.
“What? I don’t see much profit in saving lubbers too stupid not to get their ship burned down is all,” Hax retorted.
“Hear, hear!” Pax shouted, supporting her twin. “Besides, it would add at least a day, wouldn’t it? I’d like to get Rom over with so we can sail south before winter gets a good grip.”
“Some would say that lending aid where it’s needed is its own reward,” Gorm growled. “And if we can’t spare an hour or two to help our fellows, how are we any better than the raiders who set torch to sailcloth in the first place?”
“That makes no sense,” Pax muttered. “How do you turn a profit if there’s naught in it for you? And to be clear, these folk ain’t nothing to us. They might be our ‘fellows’, but like as not they’re upper class, maybe even rich folk. Loyal supporters of the emperor.” She spat over the rail. The look she gave the burly warrior clearly said she thought he’d been out in the sun too long.
Wynne gave a bitter laugh. “Hack and Slash agreeing with one another. Who would have thought?” She continued to stare at the skyline. Gorm stepped next to her and placed one massive hand on her slender shoulder.
Mac looked long and hard at the horizon, studying the smoke and thinking. Then, “Padraig, set course for that ship. Might be there’s some we can help.”
Hax and Pax groaned loudly, while Wynne beamed. Even Gorm cracked a smile.
“And if there ain’t,” Mac added, “Well, might be some gain worth having from the wreck.” Hax and Pax immediately brightened up at that.
“Yeah, sure, we should go and help!” Hax agreed.
“And if they’re too wounded to argue, we might take their gain anyway!” Pax chimed in, fingers stroking one of her hatchets.
It took them less time to reach the source of the smoke than Kye would have thought. The burning ship lay away toward the northeast, floating adrift in empty waters.
She was a cargo vessel. Well, what was left of one. Her masts were shattered, and her sails ripped and burning. Her hull bore deep scars, the legacy of boarding grapples hurled by the attackers, Hax said. Kye could not have told the difference between boarding grapple scars and damage from docking, but it didn’t matter to the dying ship.
And dying she was, no mistake about that. She listed slightly to port, and her aft end slowly sank beneath the churning waves. Her bow had started a long, slow arc toward the sky, the movement incremental but as inexorable as time itself. Smoke billowed from her hold, and flames flickered sullenly at the sails, which lay across the decks.
No one moved aboard the dying vessel. No hand waved for help, and no voice was raised in a hail as Sparrowhawk edged closer. The only sounds were the wind through Sparrowhawk’s rigging and the slap of waves breaking on the wreckage.
“What were they doing?” Pax muttered, lips twisted in anger. “There’s nothing up here. Naught but open water all the way to the ice floes and snows of true north.” She whirled on Mac as though he held the answer to her question. “Why come all this way when there’s no land?” she demanded.
Mac had no answer. “Padraig, get us close enough to get a line on her. Gorm, Hax, Pax, you’re with me. The rest of you, sit tight when we go over.” The Talon members watched silently as the wreckage slid slowly by. Padraig steered Sparrowhawk closer, searching for the safest place to tie off to the sinking craft. Eventually, he chose a position amidship so they could tie off to a forward cleat.
As soon as the ships were close enough, Mac leaped across to the sinking vessel. Gorm, Hax, and Pax followed, leaving Kye and Wynne behind on the Sparrowhawk.
Kye watched as the four spread out over the canted deck of the sinking ship. She heard Pax call out, but the words were mere noise, any meaning swept away in the wind and wash of water on wood. Mac, or maybe it was Hax, replied, and then they were gone from sight.
The young thief hugged the rail, heart in her throat for no reason she could discern. It sat there, like a stone she had swallowed. Something was off. Something was terribly wrong, a small voice whispered in the back of her head. She had learned to listen to that voice in her time with the Faceless. It had rarely failed her.
“Wynne! Kye! Come over, Mac’s orders!” Pax’s shout startled both women. Kye jumped and shot a look of apology at the older woman. Wynne looked like she wanted no part of whatever might await them, but she took a deep breath, gave Kye a reassuring smile, and started toward the rail.
“Guess we shouldn’t keep them waiting,” she said as she made the crossing. Kye was not sure she agreed. She would be ever so much more comfortable staying aboard Sparrowhawk with a little space between her and the other ship. Maybe up one of the masts. Of course, that would not work. She had to be strong, no matter what that little voice might be whispering in her ear. If there was something wrong, then she would meet it with the others. Kye followed Wynne over to the dying ship.
Kye stepped onto the deck of the sinking ship, and her foot immediately slipped out from under her. Only her quick reflexes kept her from tumbling to the deck. Glancing down, she saw red smeared under her foot. She had stepped in a pool of blood. Mostly tacky, but plenty slick.
Pushing back her gorge, she pressed on, following Wynne across the canted deck. The other woman, usually talkative and ready with her quick smile, kept her head down and did not speak. Kye understood. It was more than the wreck or the obvious fact that bloodshed had occurred. There was a wrongness to it that went deep into the grain. It stained deeper than blood ever could.
Glancing around, Kye was finally able to put her finger on at least one of the things that bothered her. There was blood aplenty. It lay in pools and smears, streaks, and puddles. But there were no bodies. No dead sailors lay on the deck. Not a single merchant gasped his last breath, lungs burbling as they filled with blood. Where were the dead? What had happened here to leave so much gore but no evidence of a single death?
And then they were at the companionway descending under the deck into the smoke-choked hold. It loomed before them, black as pitch and sepulchral. Kye followed Wynne down into the sooty darkness, a square of cloth pressed over her mouth and nose. For a moment, she had a hideous vision. All the ship’s dead lurked below, hidden in the shadows, twitching rotted arms, the skin hanging in tatters. They waited there for her in the dark.
A hand touched her arm. Kye choked back a scream and simultaneously jerked away. In less than a heartbeat, she was halfway back up the stairs toward the deck.
“Whoa now,” Wynne’s voice came from the darkness below. “All’s well, Kye. Come down here with me.”
As her eyes adjusted to the dim light below decks, Kye could make out her friend. She stood at the bottom of the companionway, one hand outstretched above her. There was no sign of the living dead lurking in the shadows. Kye took a deep breath and descended the stairs. She almost leaped off the second-to-last riser into Wynne’s arms but mustered enough dignity to step down before she scurried to the other woman’s side.
She continued to adjust to the low-light conditions. It was much the same scene below as above decks. A bloody handprint slid down one wall of the companionway. A pool of blood oozed partially under a closed door, gravity tugging it as the ship tipped upward. There was a smell that overlaid the scent of smoke, too. It was acrid and bitter but with a strange, sweet undertone, like a suppurating wound. The odor lingered under the deck, but it was impossible to pinpoint the origins or even determine the nature of the smell.
“We’re down here!” Pax shouted, voice echoing off the wood cladding of the passageway.
Wynne and Kye followed the passageway until they reached another ladder leading down. They took the rungs slowly; some of them were slick with blood. At the bottom, a larger puddle of congealed gore awaited, and Kye had to leap from the ladder to clear it. When she got her bearings, she realized they were surrounded by crates. Some were open, contents half-pulled out, but most were sealed. They must be in the ship’s hold.
“Damn, cargo’s all here,” Hax crowed, parading around with a bolt of fine silk damask, the loose end of the fabric wrapped around his torso like a robe. “We’re rich!”
Pax was busily going over crates and boxes, calling out labels and contents to Gorm, who was recording it all on a piece of parchment with a quill and ink. Briefly, Kye wondered where the big warrior had carried writing tools. Then she wondered how he’d learned his letters in the first place. It seemed odd for a warrior, but then she knew that Gorm was no ordinary sellsword.
Mac took a moment to assess the find. It was clear that he was excited at the prospect of so much gain with no one to dispute it with him. It was equally clear that he was troubled by the entire situation.
“We got room for all this on Sparrowhawk?” Pax asked between calling out crate contents.
“We’ll make room,” Mac replied. “No point in taking everything.” He paused by a box filled with half-rotting produce. “We cherry-pick what we want. Anything that will command a good price, is easy to move, and can be tucked out of sight without too much work should be fine.” He looked at Hax, who was now pilfering a box of clothing. He’d donned a wide-brimmed floppy hat, and tunics and breeches hung draped over his shoulders. “That means clothing stays here. That hat in particular.” That brought a laugh from everyone but Kye. Hax tossed his finery and searched for more valuable loot.
Kye could not shake the premonition that had come over her aboard Sparrowhawk. “Where do you think the bodies are?” she asked of no one in particular.
“That’s got me puzzled, too,” Mac admitted. He glanced around the hold and seemed pleased with the crew’s progress. “Focus on whatever’s small, valuable, easy-to-hide. Anything not fitting that description gets left. Gorm, you’re in charge.” He turned and began climbing the ladder. “Coming, Kye? Let’s take a closer look at the rest of this boat. Maybe see if we can figure out what happened to her crew.”
Kye followed Mac up the ladder and into the passageway. To her surprise, they did not head back to the upper deck, but deeper into the ship, stepping carefully as they made their way closer to the stern.
“Keep your eyes open down here,” Mac told her. “Something’s not right with this whole thing, but I’ll be damned if I know what.”
They walked down the passageway, boots sliding loudly on the wood. The only thing louder in the world right then was Kye’s heartbeat. They came to a door on the starboard side. It had been kicked open, and most of it lay in splinters on the floor. Blood spattered the floor and the wall, but there were no bodies.
“Where are the gods-cursed dead?” Mac muttered.
Kye was having trouble remaining as calm as Mac sounded. They were walking into the heart of the ship, and whatever miasma now infested the place. She caught movement out of the corner of her eye, something dark and sinuous twisting through the air just beyond sight. But when she whipped her around, there was nothing. Only empty air.
“See something?” Mac asked.
Kye shook her head, not trusting herself to speak. Her heart hammered against her ribs. Had there been something there? Was the acrid smell stronger now?
They came to another door, this one also smashed to flinders. Beyond it, water rippled dark across the floor. This was as far as they were going unless they wanted to swim. Mac might be up for that, but Kye had no desire to take a dip in that dark water. She breathed a sigh of relief when Mac turned back to the doorway.
Unlike the previous room, there was no blood here. Marks on the floor drew their eyes to a trap door. The edge was lifted enough to reveal the depthless darkness that lurked beneath.
Mac eyed the marks on the floor and the trap door, then looked to Kye. He sighed. “I’ve got to check below. Anybody survived this, they might have hidden out there. Most likely a sealed-off section of the hold. Merchants use ‘em for running contraband past the Empire’s regulators.”
Kye wondered briefly how Mac was so knowledgeable about running contraband, but did not ask. Hells, she didn’t trust herself to speak. It would come out in a wordless scream.
“You don’t have to go down here with me,” Mac told her, seeing the fear in her eyes. “Why don’t you go back and send Hax down this way? You can stay with Pax, Wynne, and Gorm. Safest place to be on this wreck, I promise.”
She considered it and was on the cusp of taking him up on the offer. Every fiber of her being urged her to flee, but something in her rebelled. Gathering that spark of courage close, she shook her head. “I’m going with you,” she whispered.
Mac grabbed a candle from a fallen lantern. He paused for a moment, digging through his pockets, then produced a tinderbox and lit the candle. He lay on the floor of the room and grasped the door with one hand, holding the candle with the other. Slowly, he wrenched open the trap door. Below, the darkness was almost tangible.
It’s breathing, Kye thought, as it churned on itself. The lap of water below came to her clearly, the sea ready to trap them in its chilly embrace. A ladder was mounted to the frame of the passage, its rungs extending downward into the hold. She listened, holding her breath, but no sound came from below.
Mac thrust the candle through the hole and into the blackness. Its meager light was reflected from the shallow water pooling in the room below. Boxes lay half-submerged, one or two almost afloat. The candle’s light was too little to illuminate more than a few feet below, but it was enough to show that the immediate area was free of threats.
Mac turned to Kye, passing the candle to her. “Can’t hold this and climb at the same time. Once I’m clear of the hatch, lay down and hold this out so that I can see.”
Kye nodded, taking the candle from him.
“Right,” Mac muttered, stepping onto the ladder and beginning his descent. “Nothing else for it now, I guess.” He looked down into the darkness, then back at Kye. “You just keep that light over this hole here.” With that, he slowly disappeared into the darkness, feet scraping each rung.
Kye lay on the deck, extending her torso into the hatch to hold the candle out for Mac. The pitch of the deck told her the ship was taking on water, the pace of its demise accelerating. Soon, the deck would be too steep to walk. They had to get out of here, and soon. She prayed that Mac would hurry.
Below, the light from her candle highlighted the top of Mac’s head and shoulders as he descended the last couple of rungs. He stepped off the ladder with a light splash. From the darkness, there came a scraping, grinding sound that raised the hairs on Kye’s arms.
“Mac!” she whispered. “What was that?”
“Can’t tell,” Mac muttered. “Hand me that light. Can’t see a thing in the damn dark.” He raised his arm for the candle.
Kye stretched, but her arms were too short. Cursing her luck, she turned about and descended the stairs, lithely managing the feat while carrying the candle. With another curse, she stood next to Mac, ankle-deep in the rising water.
“You weren’t supposed to come down yourself.”
Kye shrugged, feigning more confidence than she felt. “Seemed like the thing to do at the time.”
She handed the candle over, and Mac held it up, spreading its meager light a little farther. The warm glow illuminated more of the same, dark water, wet wood, and floating boxes. Movement at the edge of the light caught their attention.
“I’m starting to rethink that decision, though,” Kye quipped.
Mac whipped the candle toward the movement and stepped forward.
A figure hunched there at the edge of the dark. It wore the clothes of a seaman, and it was vaguely man-shaped, but that was where the resemblance ended. The thing’s flesh was gray and runny, like half-melted candle wax. Kye was forcibly reminded of the trader who had attacked Mac on the road to Scylline’s Cross. Its eyes blazed with green light, and it bared yellowed teeth at them in a snarl.
The creature dropped something into the water, and Kye realized there was another figure there. This one was definitely human, but completely naked. Where the monster’s flesh was like wet clay, the dead man’s skin was the pasty white you would expect of a corpse.
The thing snarled at them again, advancing a half-step. It looked from Kye to Mac and back again, eyes narrowing and a cruel smile curving the bloodless lips. Then it laughed, and the sound was like bones grinding against one another. It launched itself across the room, hands extended to rend and tear.
Kye yelped and rolled to the right, her heart in her throat. She found herself in deeper water, but she was at least farther from the thing. She drew the knife at her belt. Mac had likewise drawn his dagger; the narrow hold was too tight for swordplay. In his other hand, Mac held the candle, its feeble, flickering flame the only reason they could see the monstrosity at all.
The attacker looked Kye’s way again, raised its talons to attack, but then realized that Mac was the greater threat. It sidestepped the dagger blade as it whipped by, then grabbed Mac by the shoulder and sent him flying toward the other side of the hold. Then the creature turned its attention on Kye, its growl triumphant.
Mac managed to right himself but then tripped on a box half-submerged in the water and fell, dousing the candle and blanketing the hold in darkness. All but blind, Kye caught her breath, drawing up as far as she could toward the wall. Splashing from the other side told her that Mac was on his feet again, but where was that horrid creature? She strained her ears but only heard the soft lapping of water inside the hold.
Kye kept a firm grip on her dagger and edged along the wall, free hand out to feel her way forward, fingertips lightly brushing the wood. A slithering, squelching sound came from her right that she knew could not come from Mac. She thrust her dagger blade into the dark and felt it bite into something softer than wood. A hiss of pain and the slosh of retreating steps, then silence. Kye waited, holding her breath. The squelching came again, a little farther away this time, and her heart slowed its frantic pace a fraction.
Kye hunkered by the wall, bracing herself against the wood. The floor tilted upward a few degrees more than it had mere moments ago, and she knew that the boat was doomed. The Talon, too, if they did not get moving soon. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she realized that it was not completely pitch black within the hold. A little light filtered down through the trap door above, although it did little more than pick out her surroundings in shades of gray.
A sudden roar made her whip around, dagger at the ready, jaw clenched tight in alarm. In the dimness, she sensed more than saw the creature rushing through the water toward Mac, who stood with his dagger out but turning blindly from side to side.
“Mac, on your left!” she cried.
Mac turned to his left, dagger outstretched. The thing leaped at him, impaling itself on the dagger blade, but not slowing. Its talons raked Mac’s arm, cutting into the flesh. Blood spilled into the deepening water in the hold. Mac cried out with pain but did not drop the dagger. Instead, he stepped forward, driving the blade deeper into the creature’s torso. There was the sound of metal on bone, and the thing screamed, a surprisingly human sound.
Kye could not be sure in the semi-dark, but she thought she saw fear cross the thing’s melted features, but then it was gone. Madness blazed in its green eyes as it roared, then grappled Mac and hurled itself and him into the wall of the hold. There was the crack of splintering wood, and part of the wall gave way. Mac and the creature disappeared into the darkness on the other side.
“Mac!” Kye cried, rushing toward the breach in the wall.
Sounds of struggle came from the darkness. She reached the wall and stepped over the shattered timbers. She could barely make out Mac and the attacker grappling together. They rolled back and forth on the floor and, despite Mac’s dagger in its chest, neither seemed to be able to gain an advantage. Then, with a supreme effort and a shout of desperation, Mac managed to flip the creature on its back and pin it down.
Kye did not hesitate. Even in the dim light, her aim was true as the dagger slid into the thing’s ear and deep into its brain. It shuddered, arms and legs spasming, before finally lying still.
“Well, that was not what I expected to find down here,” Mac gasped, wiping gore and sweat from his forehead.
Kye’s hand shook so badly that she almost dropped the dagger. “What in all the hells was that?” she demanded.
“I’m not entirely sure, but I suspect it’s somehow connected to the thing I fought on Aeth.” He looked down at the corpse, then shuddered. “Thanks for the help.”
She could only nod, looking around the new section of the hold they found themselves in. It was dark, but not dark enough that she failed to notice the humped shapes that dominated much of the space. She moved closer, straining her eyes, then backpedaled when she realized what she was seeing. Fear flared in her chest and throat.
“I think we should go.” Her voice was hoarse, breathing faster now.
“What?” Mac asked, then he too realized what he was seeing. “Gods, it’s a tomb!”
He grabbed Kye by the shoulders and ushered her back across the damaged wall and toward the ladder. They had solved the mystery of where the ship’s crew had disappeared to. They had not gone very far at all. They all lay piled in this one section of the hold, limbs tangling together, dead as could be. A shiver ran up Kye’s spine, and she felt a scream building in her throat. Outside the ship, thunder cracked.
Without warning, the sinking ship lurched, sending both Mac and Kye tumbling toward the deepening water at the far side of the hold. The ladder now lay at an even steeper angle than before. A massive roaring sound came from outside the ship, and the vessel shuddered.
“Mac, Kye!” Gorm called. “Time to go! You’ve got to get up here!”
The pair took the ladder at speed, ascending from the dimness of the hold into the relatively bright light of the room above. Moving back up the passageway was challenging, as the ship’s stern continued to sink beneath the waves. Mac came behind Kye, one hand on the small of her back to help keep her moving forward up the steep slant.
They emerged onto the canted deck to find the other members of the Talon already crossing back to Sparrowhawk. Only Gorm remained aboard the sinking trader, his face strained with worry. His features brightened when he caught sight of them emerging from belowdecks.
“Hurry!” he called, waving them toward the rail with one massive hand. Wind whipped his clothing, and sailcloth snapped and cracked in the growing gale.
Dark clouds mounded up unnaturally fast above them, towering over the sea. Waves crashed against the side of the sinking ship, filling the air with salt spray and wetting the deck. Mac and Kye raced across the deck toward Gorm and relative safety. Kye reached the rail first, hands shaking and eyes wild, and Gorm helped her over, followed by Mac.
“Away, away!” Padraig called when he was sure everyone was aboard. Sparrowhawk’s sails cracked in the wind, and she pulled away from the trader.
The Talon stood at the rail watching as the vessel died, lightning striking the hull and perforating the water around her. Her prow rose skyward, its ascent increasingly fast, then, the wind whipping into a frenzy that forced them to squint their eyes for protection, she slowly slid beneath the waves, a last curl of smoke floating inches above the surface of the sea marking her resting place. The trader sank from sight, carrying with it the bodies of the dead seamen and merchants, as well as the creature.
As the waters closed over the ship’s resting place, Kye’s legs failed her, and she fell to the deck, her limbs shaking. The sense of menace lifted, like fog in the morning sun. The unnatural wind that had whipped the sea to whitecaps around them died like it had never been. The towering, black clouds drifted apart, letting late fall sunlight illuminate Sparrowhawk’s deck. A cleansing breeze came from the southeast, filling the ship’s sails and pushing her on toward Rom.
As the sky cleared and the storm winds abated, Mac and Gorm shared a look. Mac motioned for the other man to follow him, then stepped away from the others.
“You ever see anything like that storm?” Mac asked.
“Once,” Gorm admitted. “Down in Süt during the Troubles, when Lystra lost control of her spell. But I think you know that.”
“It might be on my mind. I think we might have a similar situation on our hands.”
Both men glanced at Kye, who still knelt on the deck trying to get her breathing under control.
“Might be at that. We’re going to need to have a conversation and likely soon.”
Mac nodded. “That we will. And about more than freak storms. You remember your friend Jarl we met on the road to Scylline’s Cross?”
Gorm nodded.
“Well, we found something similar in the hold. Damn near killed me and Kye.”
Gorm was silent for a moment, digesting that. “Twice now they’ve found you. That can’t be a coincidence.”
Mac smiled tightly. “No such thing, my friend.”
Thanks for reading! I’m grateful that you’re here.
All caught up on ADTR? Why not explore some historical fiction?
The Hungry Gods tells the story of Danu and her coming of age in the late Bronze Age.
At the Edge of the World is set during Caesar’s first invasion of Britain in 55 BCE.
You can also dig deeper into the world of Thalrassa and learn more about the folks who make up the Talon, or check out the short story I wrote for Leanne Shawler’s prompt: Fitting for the Thunder God.
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Nooo…. Glad they got out. Kyle has magic maybe? Or is magic after Mac?? (I know, I know, stay tuned)