Chapter 18
A Dread Tide Rising by Walt Shuler
It’s Monday, and you know what that means: another chapter of ADTR. This one’s a little longer than normal and was originally two chapters, but I felt like it worked better as a single one.
Previously: Kye and Gorm made it back to Sparrowhawk with their new friend (Mattie) in tow.
Currently: The wait for Mac stretches too long and the Talon decide to go looking for him.
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.
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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 18
A block knocked against the mast.
“Don’t you think he’s been gone long enough to worry a little?” Wynne asked. Sparrowhawk rocked gently on the swells. Wynne stood at the port side rail, eyes focused on the road that wound up the hill and away from the harbor.
Gorm shrugged. “He’ll be back when he’s back.” He finished repairing the line he was working with and grabbed another for himself after tossing one to Kye and Matti, who sat nearby. There was always repair work to be done. It helped to pass the time in port, particularly during the interminable waiting that always ended up being part of the jobs the Talon pulled.
Wynne groaned and threw up her hands. “Sometimes I wonder why I even bother.”
“Because you can’t help yourself?” Gorm asked, a smile on his broad face.
Wynne scowled. “If you weren’t so pretty...”
“I hope there’s more to it than the appeal of my girlish figure,” the big man said, raising an eyebrow.
“Ooh la la.” Wynne laughed.
Hax’s appearance cut the laughter short. His sister followed on his heels. Both twins were armed, as was their habit, and neither looked particularly happy. Wynne knew they chafed at the waiting as much as she did.
“Where is he?” Hax demanded.
“He’s back when...” Gorm began.
“He’s back,” Pax finished for him, a scowl on her fine-boned face. “Yeah, we know. Doesn’t make it any easier sitting here doing nothing while he’s out there having all the fun.”
“Or doing all the dying,” Wynne muttered darkly.
“None of that now,” Gorm admonished her. When he turned toward the twins, she stuck her tongue out at his broad back.
Hax kicked over a pile of repaired lines, sending them tumbling across the deck. “I just wanna hit something, you know?” He glared at the fallen lines for a moment. “Mac said a week, no more. You heard him, Pax.” He whirled back to Gorm. “That’s all we were supposed to wait. Now it’s been, what, nine days?”
His twin said nothing, but her stony glare told Gorm all he needed to know. They would be courting mutiny with the twins shortly if he did not do something about the situation. Hax and Pax were not the only ones chafing at the inaction. Padraig had gone from taciturn to laconic. The whole crew showed signs of strain, truth be told. They were worried, Gorm knew. Worried for Mac and worried they would see fallout from the little escapade at Widow Helmsworth’s home. They had waited for something to happen after the storm, but nothing had.
Gorm glanced Kye’s way, and almost on cue, she dropped the ropes she’d been working on, rolled across the deck, and was up and running toward the aft of the ship. Matti tried to follow suit, but given the fact that one of his legs had somehow been tied to the rail, the lad did not get very far before coming up short and falling on his face. Kye’s laughter told everyone who was to blame for Matti’s sudden bout of clumsiness. The boy palmed a knife, cut the rope with a single, fluid motion, and was up and chasing after her a heartbeat later, feet pounding on the deck.
“Ah, the sounds of happy children playing,” Gorm said, grinning. Pax shot him a glance, but Wynne smiled.
“I just don’t see what...” Hax started, but Gorm cut him off.
“You’re right,” he said, coming to a sudden decision. He extricated himself from the pile of ropes and stood up.
“I’m right?” Hax asked, a look of confusion on his face.
Gorm nodded. “Damn right. It’s past time we were out of this place.”
Hax cheered, perhaps happier that someone had listened to him for once than at the prospect of no longer sitting in the harbor. “Where we going?” he asked.
“To find Mac.”
“Wait, what? It’s his own damn fault if he’s in trouble!” Hax protested. “I say we leave him; probably dead anyway. Let’s take the ship and find some trouble to get into.” His grin quickly faded.
Gorm took a single step forward, bringing himself toe to toe with the other man. He reached out, wrapped a hand around each bicep, and lifted Hax clean off his feet.
“We’re going after Mac. Plain and simple. You got other ideas, you can take them up with the fishes.” He made to toss Hax overboard.
“No, hold on! We can go find Mac! I’m good with that, honest!”
Gorm held the fighter out at arm’s length, giving him the full benefit of his coldest glare. “I’m glad you reconsidered.” He released the man’s arm.
“Padraig! Derro, Callan!” he yelled, striding away. “Time to go. Let’s raise some canvas!”
Behind him, Hax stood glaring at his retreating back, massaging his arms.
“You asked for it,” Wynne said, an impish smile wrinkling her nose.
“Yeah, whatever,” Hax muttered. “One day, we’re not going to go haring off to save Mac when his ass is in trouble.
Within an hour, the crew cast off the lines, and Sparrowhawk slid away from the docks and out into the bay. Once clear, Callan and Derro unfurled the sails fully, and they boomed open, pulled taut by the world’s wind. The ship leaped ahead, twin prows slicing through the water. Gorm spared one last look back at Rom and smiled. Behind them, a lone figure stood on the dock, hand raised. It was impossible to tell from this distance, but Gorm had no doubt it was a rude gesture rather than a fond farewell Hax gave them.
“Where away, Cap’n?” Padraig asked from his position at the steering oar.
Grom thought for a moment. “We need to reach House Coët. Which would you say is faster, north or south around the island?”
It was Padraig’s turn to ponder. “North is shorter, but this time of year, the winds are from the north-northwest, so we’d be heading directly into it during the last leg. Around the south, through the Chain, is longer, but we’d make up time when we came around the northwest coast and caught the wind.” He shrugged. “It’s your decision, but my money is on the southern route if you want speed.”
Gorm nodded. “Make it so.”
“We going to save Mac’s bacon?”
Gorm frowned. “We’re going to reconnoiter. Hopefully, his bacon doesn’t need saving. We’re not really equipped to fight a prolonged action against the full might of a Great House.”
“That we are not.” Padraig smiled ruefully. “Although I’d bet Hax would relish the idea.”
“No wager, but he’s not here,” Gorm said, before addressing the rest of the Talon. “We’re heading south, through the Chain, then up to House Coët. Mac’s likely in trouble, and we’re going to see what can be done to pull him out of it.” Cheers from most of the crew greeted Gorm’s announcement. Pax was the only one who did not raise her voice. Her glare told everyone she was still angry about Gorm’s decision.
“You know he’ll be fine,” Wynne told the other woman as she bent to pick up a coiled line from the deck.
“I have no doubt. My brother’s a fine fighter.”
“So, what’s the problem, then?”
Pax was silent for a moment. “If Hax was going to be punished, and he should have been, I’d have rather it be more direct and to the point. Blatant, even. Hax tends to miss things if he’s not led there by the nose.”
“You think he’s not going to get the point?”
Pax shrugged. “Maybe yes, maybe no. He’s not stupid. In truth, he’s rather brilliant at times. But he certainly sometimes misses the ocean for the waves.”
Wynne smiled tightly. “Best pray to Mali that he realizes he’s entering deep, dangerous waters.”
***
Sparrowhawk’s journey was uneventful at first. They sailed southwest around the horn of Celize’s large, central island, then straight west through the channel. It was almost sunset when they spied the first of the Chain Islands on the horizon, and after a quick conference with Padraig, Gorm called a stop for the night, putting ashore on a small, uninhabited spit of land.
“Ugh,” Pax groaned, throwing herself to the sand. “It feels good to be off the boat.”
Gorm had to agree. “Let’s make camp here. I’m sure we’d all enjoy a night on firm ground.” No one dissented.
Gorm built a fire, and the Talon gathered around while Callan and Derro cooked. Matti, the odd man out, soon found himself roped into peeling potatoes and carrots for their supper while the twins busied themselves with cooking a hearty stew.
Supper was finished as the last of the sun’s rays began fading from the western sky. It was altogether a quieter meal than most Kye had eaten with her new family, with everyone lost in their thoughts.
“We should all get some rest,” Gorm said, rising and walking to the water to wash his bowl. “We’ll thread the Chain tomorrow, and the day after, we’ll begin making our way north by northeast. The Strait comes next, and from what Padraig has told me, we’re in for a real treat.”
Everyone looked to the taciturn pilot. “What, none of you’ve run the Straits this late in the year?” The collective silence was answer enough. Padraig swore, invoking Mali’s intervention between himself and inexperienced fools. Grabbing a piece of kindling, he sketched a rough map in the sand as the others crowded around.
“Look, three islands make up Celize, with the little one in the north, the central island we just left here in the middle, and another small one to the south. Here’s the channel and the Chain Islands, a dozen or so scantily inhabited islets and uncounted little spits of sand like the one we occupy currently.” He traced a line, curving between the little islands, then up the west coast of the big island, and into the narrow gap that separated the northern island from the main island.
“This is the Strait of Aldaz, but the locals call it Winter’s Throat. It’s not a fun place any time of year, but winter is the worst season to attempt the passage.” Padraig drew a line directly through the strait. “The winds blow gale force out of the northwest, swirling through the Strait. Unprepared crews find their ships smashed into the rocks that line the south side of the passage. It’s a gauntlet from the entry point all the way to the terminus, just east of House Coët and safe harbor.”
“So, we’re going to die?” Matti asked. His smile said he was only half-joking.
“Not if I have anything to say about it,” Padraig answered, frowning. “I sailed with Mad Hosun when he took the Strait in midwinter. What a Mali-forsaken ride that was. I reckon I can get us there in one piece this early in the season. It’ll be a rough passage, though, and all of you will need to pull your weight if we’re to make it without mishap.”
There was some grumbling, but it died out under Gorm’s stern look. “Like I said, it’s probably time to get some rest. We won’t make the Strait for a few days, but there’s lots to do to make sure Sparrowhawk’s prepared.”
The Talon bedded down as the fire dwindled to coals, lulled by the waves lapping against the shore. Hours passed, and Kye found herself awake. Something out of place had caught her sleeping mind’s attention. Unsure what it was, she lay on the sand staring up at the star-studded vault of the sky, listening to the waves. There it was again - a splashing sound, almost like someone, or something, was in the water nearby.
Kye rolled slowly onto her left side, and the beach slowly tilted into view, night-dark and indistinct. The beach was a vaguely luminous stretch, lapped by an undulating dark mass of ocean waves. Beyond the point where pale sand gave way to dark water, something moved. Something upright and vaguely man-shaped.
It moved toward shore with awkward, lurching strides. Kye did her best to pretend she was still asleep. A wild fear entered her head; it was the thing from the burning merchant ship. An icicle of fear stabbed into her gut. The thing knew she was awake. It could somehow see her open eyes in the dark. It came on, a pale smear against the night.
Kye’s heart pounded in her chest. She fought to keep her breathing even, to prevent the gasps of fear from ripping through her throat. The shape reached the line of surf mere feet from where she lay and stumbled. It fell into the waves, momentarily vanished as one washed over it, then rose again, staggering forward. One hand swept away a spill of dark hair to reveal a haggard face that was at once familiar and alien. Relief flooded through her. Kye recognized Derro, but his features were haggard in the starlight, strange and stretched.
She almost asked the man what was wrong, but something stopped her. Fear blossomed within her again, and she bit her lip to stop from crying out. Derro stumbled the few feet up the beach, and Kye shut her eyes tight, desperately pretending to be asleep. She saw something strange in the moment Derro’s gaze lingered on her.
Derro’s eyes, like his twin brother’s, were usually a deep brown, but for a split second, they appeared pale as seawater. Before she could be sure, he blinked and everything was normal. She sensed his presence there for a few moments, looming over her, and then the slow crunch of footfalls on the loose sand as he walked away. Her breath rushed out in a silent river of relief. Kye was unsure what she’d seen, but it had filled her with terror. Maybe I imagined it, she thought. The whole thing was a dream. But when dawn came, the hollow footprints in the sand beside her proved that a lie.
****
With dawn, the Talon set sail once more. Padraig wanted better light to navigate the Chain. While many of the islands and islets were visible, some were little more than sandbars, and rough seas could hide them. Even Sparrowhawk’s shallow draft would be hard-pressed to clear them.
It was a slow process. Padraig stayed at the steering oar, and Callan at the prow to take soundings as they moved. Derro and Gorm worked the sheets, trimming here, loosening there, as the ship made its tortuous path forward. Kye and Matti’s agility meant they spent most of the time aloft, clambering from line to line like strange, giant spiders.
“Better off doing this in a damn skiff,” Gorm groused after one particular near miss that left the starboard hull vibrating from the impact.
Padraig sniffed defiantly. “I could thread the Chain with a vessel twice Sparrowhawk’s draft,” he growled.
Gorm held up one hand for peace. “No disrespect to your skills. It’s slow and time’s pressing.”
Padraig’s expression softened. “We’re all worried about him, but Mac’s made it through some pretty tough scrapes. I’m sure he’s fine. Probably coming down into Rom right now. Hax’ll be swearing up a storm.”
“I hope you’re right.” Gorm prayed that the man’s optimism was not misplaced, but something in his gut said otherwise.
It took the better part of an entire day to navigate the Chain, but eventually, they cleared it and hit the more open waters to the west. Padraig felt more confident here. Derro no longer had to keep watch for sand bars, and Gorm and Callan were freed from sail duty. Callan and Derro returned to their more normal responsibilities, and a sense of taut calmness settled over the crew.
“It won’t last long,” Gorm promised Kye. The two stood at the starboard rail, watching the coastline stream past as the wind filled Sparrowhawk’s sails. “We’ll round the tip of the island tomorrow, then it’s full speed down the Strait. We’ll need all hands for that.”
“Why can’t we just sail around the upper island and come to House Coët that way?” Kye wanted to know.
“We could, but it’ll add a full day to the trip. If this were a regular run with cargo to be delivered, I’d say we take the more cautious route. As it is, we’re probably already too late for Mac.”
“You don’t really think that, do you?” she asked.
Gorm said nothing for a moment. Then, “I hope not, little one. I surely hope not.” Silence descended between the two, broken only by the soft lap of waves against the hull.
True to Gorm’s word, the next day found them rounding the tip of Cardaran. The coast of Adorn was clearly visible, grey with distance. “That will change,” Padraig said as Sparrowhawk moved forward.
Within hours, they entered the Straits. The wind was already picking up, funneled between the two landmasses. The Straits narrowed quickly. To Kye, it felt like she could almost reach out and touch either side from her spot at the bow. As the cliffs closed in, the wind whipped harder, and Sparrowhawk almost flew over the tops of the increasingly agitated waves.
With the increased speed, the cliffs blurred on either side of the ship. It was exhilarating. Kye stood at the front of the ship, the wind whipping her hair around her head.
“It’s incredible!” she shouted to Wynne, who had come forward to get a better view of what lay ahead. Derro worked the lines here, keeping the sheets carefully trimmed so as not to overload the boat. Despite his attentive work, Kye had caught him staring at her several times in the past few days. Uncomfortable with the attention but unsure what to do about it, or if there was even anything to do, she had chosen to ignore the man.
Wynne nodded in agreement, but her expression was serious. “It is, but Gorm says it will get worse.”
“How?” Kye wanted to know.
Wynne pointed into the dim distance ahead of the ship. “There’s a series of curves before we reach Coët. They’re lined with jagged rocks. It’s a needle’s dance through wind-whipped waters to land safely in the harbor.”
Kye’s eyes lit up at the prospect. “Sounds like fun!”
“Not the way I would describe it,” Wynne replied, a nervous laugh betraying her nerves.
“Are you worried?” Kye asked. She pointed aft where Padraig stood rock-steady, hand on the steering oar. “He seems confident enough.”
“Oh, he is. He’s done this before. But so have I, and that venture didn’t end quite so well.”
“What happened? Why didn’t you say anything earlier?”
Wynne shook her head. “I don’t want to recount all of it. It’s a memory best left alone. Enough to say that most of the crew were never fished from the water.” With that, she made her way back toward Gorm. Kye watched her go, the realization dawning that this might be a very different prospect for each crew member depending on their experiences.
***
The wind lashed Sparrowhawk and her crew, threatening to drive them into the rocks that lined the south side of the Strait.
“Loose that sheet!” Padraig yelled at Derro. “We’ve got too much canvas. She’s pitching hard to starboard!” Derro hesitated a moment, then leaped to do as the captain ordered.
“Callan, secure the jib! Gorm, the mainsail! Pax, give me a hand with this gods-cursed oar!” Padraig continued to shout over the roar of the wind from his position at the steering oar. The entire crew found themselves pressed into service. Kye and Matti, too slight to be much use in many jobs, were relegated to the most dangerous, climbing aloft among the rigging, securing ropes, and the like.
Kye was aloft on the forward mast, and Matti held a similar position on the aft mast. Below, the crew scurried to and fro like ants. Sparrowhawk used two masts with triangular mainsails and jib sails, although she would switch to using a spinnaker to maximize speed in a following wind. In this weather, Padraig wanted as little canvas aloft as possible without losing forward momentum. The challenge was that the skirling wind would rise and fall, almost flattening the ship into the water one moment and then vanishing the next.
To make headway, the crew danced a dangerous edge, constantly adding and removing canvas, pulling and loosing sheets as necessary. Despite the chill in the air, Kye wiped sweat from her eyes. Squinting, she noticed Derro below, motioning for her to move…where? She looked forward. There it was, a loose sheet snapping in the wind. Without it, the jib couldn’t be adjusted. She leaped into action without thinking, launching herself forward and hitting the deck at a run. Within seconds, she had reached the sheet. She grabbed it, feeling the wind try to rip the line from her grip. She struggled for a moment, then managed to tie it off.
Some instinct deep within warned her to turn around. In an instant, she took in Derro, his tight smile, and the boom hurtling toward her with the full force of the gale behind it. Kye dropped to the deck just as the boom roared through the space she had occupied. Breathing heavily, she glanced at Derro from her position on the deck and saw astonishment then anger flit across his face before those emotions were carefully concealed behind a mask of concern.
“Are you all right?” he called across the roar of wind. “The wind snatched it from my hands before I knew what was happening!”
Not trusting herself to speak, Kye only nodded. Derro might pretend it had been an accident, but she had seen his smile when he thought the boom would take her in the back. At the very least, it would have been a crippling blow. More likely, it would have killed her outright. The girl frowned. Glancing at the other crew members, she caught looks of concern or gratitude, but no one else had seen what she had. To them, it was an accident, but Kye knew better. Why was the sailor trying to kill her?
She had little time to ponder the situation. While grateful she had survived, Padraig immediately put her back to work. Safely guiding Sparrowhawk through the Strait required all hands, and Kye threw herself into the task with a will. At the back of her mind, though, that nagging question lurked. Now and then she would catch Derro watching her, his expression blank and his eyes depthless.
Despite the wind’s best efforts, Sparrowhawk finally emerged from the Straits. “See that?” Padraig asked, pointing to a massive protrusion of stone high up on the southern cliffs. Beyond, the Strait veered northeast. “That’s the Horn of Coët. We’re through the Straits. From here, the winds calm, and it’s smooth sailing to Leandering itself.”
Sparrowhawk emerged from the Strait into dying sunlight as the sun slowly sank into the west. Leandering was a small town, but the port was massive, the better to handle House Coët’s mining and shipping needs. With winter approaching, trade was slowing, and few ships clogged the harbor, although the presence of several warships was not lost on Kye. The Talon had little trouble finding a berth.
Kye looked around with interest. Leandering looked much the same as Rom, built with the same white stone. However, there was more wood visible here, with wooden warehouses standing shoulder to shoulder with stone-built administrative offices. Despite the similarities, the city felt very different from its eastern cousin. Where Rom had mostly used unadorned stone, the residents of Leandering decorated theirs with carvings and embellishments.
“We’re here, so now what?” Pax asked. The Talon were gathered around the table in Sparrowhawk’s galley.
“I think we should pay a visit to Mac’s friend Holua,” Gorm replied.
“An official visit?” Wynne asked from her seat beside him.
Gorm shook his head. “No, I was thinking something a little more clandestine.”
“Who goes there?” Callan’s voice came from the darkness outside. The demand brought all discussion to a screeching halt. Gorm and Pax went to investigate, while Wynne, Mattie, and Kye stayed put. A muttered curse from outside had everyone reaching for their weapons, but then the door to the galley burst open and Hax stepped through, a self-satisfied smile on his face, followed by Gorm and Pax. Gorm’s usually impassive face was set in a scowl.
“Hax?” Wynne was incredulous. She looked from the fighter to Gorm and back.
“Seems Hax decided that he knew better than his orders,” Gorm muttered, right hand tightening into a fist.
“Now look,” Hax said hurriedly, hands raised placatingly. “Like I said, I thought it might be wise to check the trail between Rom and Leandering. What if Mac had fallen and was lying injured or, worse, dead?”
“And if Mac had sailed south back to Rom?”
“He’d have been back by now, wouldn’t he? That’s what I figured. That left two options. Either he never left Leandering, or he’d had an accident on the return journey.”
Gorm slowly relaxed his fist. “It’s a good thought,” he admitted. Then he jabbed a finger directly into Hax’s chest. “But that doesn’t excuse the fact that you disobeyed orders. We’ll discuss that later.”
Hax nodded but was wise enough to say nothing.
“I’m assuming that since you’re here alone, you didn’t find Mac along the road?”
“Nah, didn’t see no one. Kind of weird, truth be told. The road was deserted from Rom to here.”
“Not so unusual. Winter’s setting in, trade’s drying up. Most folks hereabouts are hunkering down,” Gorm answered. “So, we’re back to square one, then.”
A day passed, and then two with no word from Mac. “So, we’re stuck,” Gorm addressed the Talon. “This cannot go on any longer. At this rate, winter will be on us, and we’ll be stuck in port until spring.” He looked from face to face. “We need to get into the castle and find out whether Mac made it this far and, if he did, what happened. Any ideas?”
“I’ve got a couple,” Kye answered with a mischievous smile.
“Oh, no, you don’t,” Wynne tried to cut her off, but Gorm forestalled her.
“What are you thinking?” he asked.
Kye glanced at Mattie and then back to Gorm. “I’ll need a little cash to put things into motion, but Mattie and I will have an answer to the Mac question by morning.”
Gorm looked dubious but did not deny her out of hand, despite Wynne’s frown of disapproval.
“She’s just a kid,” Wynne sputtered.
Gorm cocked an eyebrow. “She’s young, but I can’t deny her talents. Without her and Mattie, I’d still be stuck inside that godsdamned house back in Rom.”
That silenced Wynne’s dissent, and neither Hax nor Pax had any problem with the plan. Kye grinned and explained her idea.
Thanks for reading! I’m grateful that you’re here.
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Loved Hax getting put in his place. Creepy guy! Really need that resolved soon haha 😅 the description of the Sparrowhawk going through the Straits was thrilling.