Chapter 12
A Dread Tide Rising by Walt Shuler
We’re moving right along with this. Chapter 12 isn’t as action-heavy as the previous one, but it (and the 2 or 3 chapters immediately after) sets up some important things that will play out over the rest of the book.
Previously: The Talon discovered a sinking merchant ship with a horrific cargo.
Currently: The Talon finally make it to Rom. Mac decides to visit Holua alone, while Gorm goes to investigate Jarl Helmsworth’s home.
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 12
The port hummed with activity.
The city of Rom was as different from Tua as that port had been from Rakka. Like Rakka, Rom was a city built of stone, but where the empire’s capital city was mostly hewn from volcanic basalt, Rom was built from limestone. From the quays at the waterline to the warehouses that lined the nearby hills to the homes of notables Kye glimpsed in the distance, pale stone dominated the view. Seeing her interest, Mac explained. “Used to be wood, like most cities outside the Rings. The whole place burned down a couple of hundred years ago. They rebuilt in stone instead of wood.”
“Where do they get the stone?” Kye wondered. “It’s lovely. Rakka’s so dark and drab.”
“Quarry’s on the other side of the island, owned by House Coët. Lord Holua’s family made their fortune keeping the city’s masons supplied with building materials.”
“Holua?” Kye asked.
Mac nodded, stepping forward and cinching the bowline tighter around the hammered metal ring anchored to the pier post. “One of the men we’re here to see, I think. Holua was part of Iron John’s company once upon a time. We served together during the rebellion. Might be that there’s still some goodwill there, and we could surely use that. We need information from an unbiased source.”
Kye nodded again, remembering the strange merchants and their attack. A man who somehow managed to transform himself into a bird and fly away was hard to forget. Answers would be nice, but she had a feeling they would only lead to more questions.
They left Sparrowhawk moored in the harbor. Derro and his brother remained aboard to guard the ship while Padraig went to arrange for their needed supplies. “Sail cloth and rope, tar, and food,” Padraig muttered, ticking off fingers as he mentally reviewed what the Talon would need once they set sail once more. He grimaced, then turned to Mac. “It surely would be a sight easier to buy supplies if you’d give me a destination.”
Mac shrugged. “You’ll know soon as I do. A lot depends on what we learn here, but take advantage of our current financial situation. Make sure she’s in good repair and that you lay in enough victuals for whatever might come our way. We leave Rom, it could be a long time before we find safe harbor again.”
Padraig nodded, face thoughtful as he stepped onto the pale cobbled street and made his way toward the central market.
“Gorm!” Mac called from the quay. The big warrior stood on Sparrowhawk’s deck, deep in conversation with Wynne. Whatever they were discussing did not sit well with her. Wynne’s normally smiling face was drawn down in a concerned frown. Gorm waved a hand, letting Mac know he had heard him while the warrior finished his conversation. Mac waited, one toe tapping the stone of the quay, his expression stonier by the moment. Finally, Gorm turned, leaving behind a very unhappy Wynne, and came to stand beside Mac.
“Take Wynne and go see what you can learn about that trader friend of yours, whatever his name was,” Mac told the big man.
“Jarl Helmsworth,” Gorm supplied helpfully.
“Whatever. Go see what you can dig up on him. Maybe his family will know something.”
“Do you think taking Wynne is wise? There could be trouble.” Gorm was concerned that whatever had happened to Jarl could also have happened to his family.
“Wynne can handle herself, but take whoever you want.”
“What are you planning?”
Mac gestured vaguely into town and beyond. “I’m going to see Holua. See if I can get us some more information. Offload a bit, too.”
“House Coët? That’s three days’ journey to the other side of the island.”
Mac nodded. “Don’t I know it. Still, needs must and all that.”
“At least take Hack and Slash with you,” Gorm protested, scowling. The twins glared daggers at him but said nothing.
Mac shook his head. “No, best to go alone on this one. Holua knows you and me from our time with Iron John, but even then, he was a suspicious man. Won’t take kindly to strangers invading his ancestral home. Particularly strangers like those two. Besides, I told them to see what they could get for the salvage we pulled off that merchanter.”
Gorm’s face showed what he thought of the idea, but he saw Mac’s point. “I’d be happier if I were going with you,” he grumbled.
“I’m not going to lie, I’d breathe easier, too. But you’ve got your own things to handle.”
The two men embraced while Kye and Wynne watched. Hax and Pax stood on deck tossing daggers at one of the masts. Derro and Callan were nowhere to be seen.
After the embrace, Mac told Gorm, “Give me a week, no more.” Mac’s look was pointed. “If I’m not back by then, cast off and get out of Rom.”
Gorm nodded. They watched as Mac shouldered his pack and walked away, soon swallowed by the crowd of traders, shoppers, stevedores, and others. Sparrowhawk’s timbers creaked as she gently rose and fell with the waves. To Kye, it felt like more of a parting than it should. She could not bring herself to think about casting off and leaving Mac behind if he did not make it back to Rom in seven days.
“What kind of friend is he going to see that he worries he’ll not make it back?” she asked.
Gorm shrugged. “Holua was with us when we fought with Iron John against the Empire. He and Mac were pretty close, once. Never really got on with the man myself. Too full of himself for my liking.” He busied himself with getting his kit together. He would be heading into town to seek other information. “Most of them were,” he added. “The high-born, I mean.” He stopped his preparations and stood looking into the distance. “Mac wasn’t, though. It set him apart, even in the company of equals. I remember sometimes Holua...” he trailed off.
“Holua’d what?” Kye prompted.
“Huh?” Gorm snapped back from his reverie.
“You said that sometimes Holua would?”
“Oh.” He flushed. “Nothing, really, just sometimes he’d get this look in his eye when Mac would have a difference of opinion with him or the other noble lads in the corps.”
“What sort of look?” Kye wondered.
“One that boded no good, mark me on it.”
***
Kye hurried to keep up with Gorm. The man’s giant strides bore him through Rom’s crowded streets with ease, his imposing bulk encouraging anyone in the way to move. Kye’s strides were much shorter, and the people thronging the street weren’t about to get out of her way. That was fine, though. It was how she preferred it.
The anonymity of being one more face in the crowd offered a great deal of protection. Being smaller, slighter, and faster than most others added to that. She felt confident jogging after Gorm in a way that she had not since leaving Rakka. That seemed like so long ago. Another life. Another world. She could not afford to dwell on the past right now, though. Kye pulled herself back to the present and allowed Rom to fill her senses as she twisted and turned through its crowded streets following Gorm.
Rom was strangely similar to Rakka in some ways, but completely different in others. Like the larger city, Rom’s streets were filled with merchants, farmers, ranchers, nobles, and the milling poor. Unlike Rakka, most of the people she passed bore the stamp of the island in one way or another. Gray robes dominated, and she saw few people with brightly colored clothes. The streets of Rakka were a riot of colors as travelers from all over the empire bought and sold, plotted and schemed, lived and died on her streets.
The smell here was different, too. In Rakka, a thousand scents would have combated one another: roasting meat, spices, unwashed bodies, the filth collecting in the mouths of alleyways, and more. Rom’s scent was different, cleaner. Woodsmoke mixed with salt tang, overlaid with the smell of cooking. Of course, she was certain that the city had its foul odors, too. There was a reason that every city since the Arrival put the tanners as far away from everything else as possible.
They wended their way through the city, up stone-paved hills, through various districts. They left the warehouse and dock area behind pretty quickly, moving into another district dominated by shops and small markets. She nipped a wrinkled citrus fruit from an inattentive merchant and bit into it, then immediately spat it back out. The thing was old and soft, the insides little more than mush. Served her right, she supposed. Winter was almost on them. Anything not already put away in cold storage was likely not worth saving. Kye tossed the desiccated fruit away and walked on.
The fruit incident cost her precious seconds, and Gorm was well ahead again. It would have been easier if he had known she was tagging along after him, but after the row with Wynne, she thought that discretion was the better option. He had not explicitly told her to stay on Sparrowhawk, had he? No, she was sure he had not. Besides, she felt the need to do something useful, and accompanying Gorm seemed like it would do the trick.
They were leaving the merchant district now and heading into the middle tier of the city. Well-to-do homes dominated this area, peppered here and there with small temples to the local gods, although they looked oddly forlorn and empty. Kye saw boards over the doors and windows of several as they passed. The homes here were not fine enough for the nobility, but neither were they suited for craftsmen and others of modest means. In Rakka, this would be where the more successful merchants lived, within sight of the noble ranks they could never join, and above the rabble they liked to pretend they did not come from.
Gorm turned left down an alley between two buildings, and Key followed, only to be brought up short when his massive hand gripped her shoulder. He lowered the dagger in his other hand with a grunt.
“I should have known,” he sighed.
“You’re not going to send me back, are you?” she pleaded.
“Don’t tempt me,” he growled, sheathing the dagger and stepping back toward the main road once more. “But, no, you’re a stranger here. While Rom’s not the warren that Rakka is, it’s easy enough to get turned around.” He waved for her to follow him. “Best that you go with me, I suppose. Mac would skin me alive if I sent you back Sparrowhawk unaccompanied. And you’d just turn around and follow me as soon as I was out of sight.”
“Good.” Kye grinned and followed.
Their destination was not far. It was a modest home by the standards of the area, not particularly ostentatious, but with an aura of wealth, although perhaps fallen on hard times. The white stone exterior was stained by the passage of time, now more beige than white. Vines grew over the exterior wall from inside, and the few windows Kye could see wore a telltale film of dust.
“Does anyone even live here?” she asked.
“They did.” The warrior sounded puzzled. “When I was last here, the place was immaculate. Jarl’s wife, Matilde, saw to the running of the household. She didn’t put up with laggards or layabouts. Place fair sparkled.”
Kye looked from Gorm back to the home. “I’m thinking things have changed with Lady Matilde since her husband passed.”
Gorm turned from the home to regard Kye. “Right. I think it's best that you pass for my assistant. A boy.”
Kye shrugged. It would not be the first time. She giggled when she realized there were probably some members of the Faceless who still thought she was a male. Her slender frame had not yet filled out with a woman’s curves, and when she was dressed in trousers and a tunic, it was difficult to tell that she was not a boy.
“I’ll be your assistant, Kale,” she said, choosing a name she’d used in her time as a pickpocket.
Gorm only grunted. He approached the gate, rapped hard on the wood, and then waited. Kye studied the area but found little of interest. It was mostly residential, and many homes were grander or cleaner than their current object of interest. She did catch a hit of color in the distance from the corner of her eye, but when she turned to glance down the street, it was gone. Sound from the other side of the gate drew her attention back to the present.
Footsteps came from within the compound, slow but steady. There was a pause, and then the window set into the gate cracked open and swung outward. It framed the face of a woman with startling golden eyes.
“Yes?” the woman asked, her tone that of someone used to command and not in a particularly welcoming mood.
“Lady Maltilde?” Gorm asked, although it was obvious he knew whom he addressed. “My name is Thistlegorm. We met several years ago when I visited your husband, Jarl.”
Thistlegorm? Kye wondered, suppressing a laugh.
“Oh?” Matilde showed no sign of recognition. “I don’t recall, but my husband had so many visitors in his day.”
“In his day?” Gorm asked, stepping closer to the gate.
Lady Matilde nodded. “Jarl died, close on three years ago now.” A sheen of moisture crept across her eyes.
“My condolences for your loss.” Gorm bowed his head and pressed his hand to his heart, feigning surprise and sadness. “I hadn’t heard, but I’ve been in the south for some time, and news is nonexistent there.”
Matilde nodded and dabbed at an eye, sniffling.
“Not to tread indelicately on a topic of such sensitivity, but who would be handling Jarl’s trading business now?”
Kye glanced at Gorm. Was this how he intended to get his foot in the door?
All traces of sadness evaporated from Matilde’s face. “I handle the business now. You have something to discuss?”
Gorm smiled. “Madam, I think I might have a proposition that would benefit us both. Would you be willing to discuss it with me?”
Matilde’s smile was all teeth. “Certainly, Goodman Thistlegorm.” Kye heard bolts being released, and the gate creaked open. “Please, come in.”
Gorm and Kye stepped into a small, overgrown courtyard. Weeds grew up between the cobbles, and the flowerbeds were ruinous with tessle, a parasitic plant that preyed upon plants, insects, and small mammals alike. As Kye watched, one of the plant’s serrated heads snapped shut, lightning fast, trapping a mouse. The rodent’s squeak of alarm was cut short as the plant’s paralyzing toxin reached its skin.
The gate shut behind them with a hollow boom.
Thanks for reading! I’m grateful that you’re here.
All caught up on ADTR? Why not explore something else?
The Longing Blade hints that all might not be what it seems when it comes to Rakka’s emperors.
A Fate Unexpected details how Kye came to be imprisoned in the way station in the first place.
You can also check out my historical fiction work, or read the short story I wrote for Leanne Shawler’s prompt: Fitting for the Thunder God.
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I came up with that as a one-off just to make the place feel a little stranger, but I might have to add it into other places!
Ooh, the tessle sounds ominous….