Chapter 19
A Dread Tide Rising by Walt Shuler
Happy Monday after time change! I hope your coffee’s strong. I used to prefer fall back to spring forward (and still do if I have to pick), but as I’ve gotten older, both screw up my internal clock for a week or more. Anyway, time’s fake and the world’s on fire, so why not dive into the newest chapter?
Previously: The Talon left Rom and threaded the straits to arrive at Leandering just in time for Hax to meet them, with still no sign of the missing Mac. With everyone’s patience wearing thin, Kye hatched a plan.
Currently: Kye’s plan to get more information about Mac’s fate involves some precarious second-story work and leads to startling results.
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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Chapter 19
Kye shivered in the wind off the bay. A child of Rakka’s southern climes, she was used to gentle winters where snow was only a rumor. And yet here she was in the dark of night, clutching her cloak against the deepening cold. Would it snow? Glancing up, she saw stars. She knew little about snow, except that it came from the clouds like rain. So, no snow tonight. A pang of disappointment stabbed, but she put it out of mind. There was work to be done.
“Come on, slowpoke,” she teased. Mattie ignored her, his face stony in the gloom as he coiled his rope. Getting across the outer wall had been a simple matter. Now they stood at the base of the tower, which promised to be a more strenuous climb. It would also be a problem when it came to getting away.
If Mattie’s idea went to plan, they wouldn’t have to worry about that, though.
“You sure you can do it?” Kye asked.
“For the thousandth time, yes,” Mattie hissed back.
“Remember, use your legs to push yourself up, don’t pull with your arms,” she said.
“You know, it’s a good thing you’re here since I’ve never scaled a gods-cursed wall in my life.”
“I was always better at it.”
“You were better at a lot of things,” Mattie replied, slinging the coiled rope over one shoulder. “Ready?” he asked, already beginning his ascent.
Kye watched for a moment as Mattie deftly climbed the wall using nothing but his fingers, toes, and the barest fissure between stones to support his weight. Within a few seconds, he was already well above her.
“It’s not a race, dummy!” Kye hissed at his retreating back before shouldering her pack and beginning her ascent. Leave it to Mattie to turn this into a contest, she grumbled silently. She had only climbed a dozen feet when the stone crumbled under her right hand. For a moment, Kye dangled from a single hand and a lone toehold. She cursed herself for a fool and refocused on the task at hand. In a moment, she had caught up to her friend, and a second or so later, she was past him and well on the way to their target.
Kye spared a glance toward the courtyard far below. If her information held, the guard patrol would be along in a few moments. There was little chance they would spot the two thieves so high up the tower, but stranger things had happened. They needed to be up the wall and inside before the guards arrived.
High above them, a window loomed black against the pale stone of the tower. If the information Kye had gotten from the stableboy was correct, that window led into Lord Holua’s dressing room, which opened onto his bed chamber. Being so high above the ground and trusting in his defenses, the good lord regularly failed to secure his windows at night.
Faintly, the sound of boots striking stone came to her ears.
“Damn the luck,” Mattie muttered below her. “The guards are early!”
“Climb faster!” she hissed down at her companion. The two redoubled their speed, or at least as close as they could come. Finding finger and toeholds in the wall required concentration, and haste robbed that ability. The sound of boots on stone came closer, and the two thieves froze. Kye held her breath and pressed herself tight to the wall. Her fingers and toes were cramped with the strain of bearing her weight. The wind picked up, its chill numbing her, and Kye fought to keep her teeth from chattering.
Don’t look up, don’t look up, don’t look up, she prayed. The guards, at least three by the sound of the footsteps, slowed and stopped. Cold sweat broke out on Kye’s forehead, slowly running down and stinging her eyes. Her heart hammered so loud it was a wonder it didn’t echo off the tower wall.
Soft voices came from below. “Never seen Holua like this,” said one guard.
There was a shuffling sound as another guard leaned against the tower, blowing softly into his cupped hands to warm them from the night’s chill. “Me neither,” the second guard replied.
“Neither of you was here when his wife died. He was like this then, one minute happy as a damn pig in slop, the next beating his breast in sorrow,” a third guard said.
“He’s a man of many moods, our lord,” intoned the first.
Looking down, Kye saw the other two nod in agreement. “What’s set him off, though?”
The third guard shrugged. “Not sure. Alanna, the cook, said something about an unexpected visitor a couple of nights back. Could be what caused it, I suppose.”
“This visitor have anything to do with the bloodstains the scullery maids were cleaning off the tiles in the back hall?” one guard asked.
The third guard nodded. “Aye, Kenseth was there that night. Said he took the body out and dumped it. Captain Erriti made them go out beyond the harbor.”
The first guard nodded sagely. “So, the currents would take it away from the city.”
A chill ran down Kye’s spine. Could the visitor have been Mac? He would certainly have been unexpected, but Mac had been sure of a cordial welcome. The two men had been something like friends at some point. She pushed her sense of disquiet away. They would know with more certainty once the night’s work was done.
A gust of wind buffeted the thieves then. Kye held on for all she was worth as the wind tugged at the heavy pack she carried. Below her, Mattie struggled to maintain his grip on the stone. One foot slipped from its perch, but he caught himself. The young thief let out a small grunt of effort as his arms caught his weight. Kye held her breath, sure that the small noise would carry to the guards at the tower’s base.
The wind and cold, but that worked in the pair’s favor; the guards never looked up and soon resumed their patrol. As they disappeared, Kye heaved a sigh of relief and once more began moving up the tower.
A few minutes later found the two thieves at their destination. The window was closed, but as Mattie pushed against it, their information was confirmed. It swung silently inward. Mattie climbed through first, followed by Kye.
They found themselves in a darkened room, the window through which they had climbed the only source of light. Muffled snoring came from the other side. Their information was correct; Holua’s bedchamber was within easy reach. Kye unslung her backpack and then stretched the kinks out of her back.
One minute, Mattie’s fingers flashed. Must prepare first.
Be quick, Kye signed back. Could wake soon.
Mattie made a rude gesture that needed no translation and quietly slipped the coil of rope from around his shoulders. He moved to the window and peered upward. The roof was only a few feet away. Even in the darkness, he could make out the ends of the trusses as they projected out from the tower toward where they met the conical roof. Then he was out the window and climbing the wall once more, the end of the rope clamped tight in his teeth. Kye held the other end and her breath.
This was the riskiest part of the plan. If Mattie slipped, if he failed to secure the rope correctly…there were a thousand things that could go wrong. Kye felt a cold, tight knot in her chest and forced herself to slow her breathing. She relaxed her hands, realizing that she’d been gripping the rope like her life depended on it. It would, but not yet. Right now, her life depended on Mattie. She ran through the breathing exercises Gorm had taught her and felt the knot loosen.
A muffled grunt came from outside the window, and then the sound of Mattie’s feet on the tile roof. So far, so good. A moment later, Mattie reappeared through the window, the end of the rope still clenched in his teeth.
All well? Kye’s fingers flickered.
Mattie nodded without speaking, then spat the end of the rope.
Kye wasted no time. She handed Mattie the other end of the rope and began removing items from the backpack. A heavy cloak, a pair of metal cymbals, a plague candle, a jar of paint, all the things they would need for their plan to succeed. A grim smile on her face, Kye set about putting things into motion.
A quarter of an hour later, they were ready. Holua’s snoring from the bed chamber had not changed. Then a metal clanging rent the night. Holua snorted, then sat bolt upright in his bed. A flash of light like lightning burst, flickered, then held steady, and the lord of House Coët recoiled, clutching the bed sheets tight about his corpulent body.
At the foot of the bed stood a monstrous, cloaked figure. Purple-white light emanated from the body within the cloak and illuminated the being’s face, which glittered silver in the half-light.
“HOLUA!” the figure rasped, the voice unearthly.
Holua squealed in fear, trying to push himself backward into the headboard or the wall behind it.
“HOLUA!” The voice came again.
Mustering up his nerve at last, the lord of House Coët answered. “I…I’m here. Who are you?”
“I am Agas, handmaid of Mordas. The Weeper demands answers!”
At the mention of the goddess of the underworld, Holua lost what nerve he had mustered. “Don’t take me!” he blubbered, trying to curl into a ball on his bed. “Don’t take me! Don’t take me!”
“SILENCE!” the figure rasped. “WOULD YOU INVITE THE WRATH OF SHE WHO WEEPS?”
“No!” Holua answered between panting breaths. “Forgive me!”
“THEN ANSWER MY QUESTIONS!”
“Anything!” Holua’s face was buried in his mattress, which muffled his voice.
“You sent a mortal to our mistress through Mali’s watery realm, but he is lost to himself.”
“What do you mean?” Holua croaked, face still hidden.
“His soul is damaged, the inner flame guttering low. Before he can take his place on the wheel once more, he must recover his name.”
“His name?”
“HIS NAME!” the figure thundered. The light from within the cloak swirled, causing cruel shadows to dance around the bed chamber. Holua, who had peeked out from the sheets, recoiled once more.
“Mac! I mean Macland! His name was Macland Toth!” he cried, quivering.
Mac’s name hung in the air as the purple-white light vanished. Holua, face pressed into his mattress, did not immediately notice.
A moment later, two figures launched themselves from an upper window, ropes easing their way down the wall. Kye moved faster, her backpack and all its contents left behind in her haste to leave the tower. All that mattered now was reaching Sparrowhawk and the Talon. Mattie, lithe and fast in his own right, struggled to keep up with his companion as she almost vaulted down.
Reaching the ground, Kye was off like a shot. Mattie gave the rope one last glance and realized he would not be able to retrieve it. He ran after his companion. They ran pell-mell through town, making for the harbor. Guards called out in alarm, but the thieves were too fast for them. In a surprisingly short time, they had reached Sparrowhawk, where she rested in the harbor.
Vaulting from the dock onto the ship, Kye found Gorm and Wynne topside. The big man smiled at first, but it faded as he took in Kye’s flushed cheeks and the unshed tears in her eyes.
“What’s happened?”
“Went to see Holua,” Mattie puffed.
“We got that much,” Hax muttered. He and Pax had emerged from the galley on hearing Kye and Mattie’s footsteps on the deck.
“Mac’s dead,” Kye said, trying to catch her breath. “Holua killed him. Dumped his body outside the harbor.”
Wynne gasped in shock. Gorm’s expression went flat. “You’re sure of this?”
“From his own mouth,” Mattie chimed in.
Suddenly, Kye cursed. “And we need to leave. Now.”
“Why?”
She frowned. “I was in such a hurry to get back with the news that I left all our gear. He’ll know someone was interested in Mac’s fate.”
“So?” Hax asked.
Pax swatted her brother’s shoulder. “So, you big dolt, there are only so many fools in the world that would care a whit for Macland Toth’s wellbeing and all of them are on this ship.”
Gorm stood silent for a moment, then called for Padraig. The captain materialized almost instantly.
“Cast off,” Gorm told him. “Mac’s dead, and our presence is known.”
If the news shocked the pilot, he did not show it. “What’s our heading, sir?” he asked.
Gorm shrugged. “East, I suppose. There’ll be no fighting through the Straits this time. East and then probably south around the island.” He pressed a hand to his forehead. “I need time to think.” Wynne put a hand on the big man’s back. Gorm stood with his head lowered, silent in his grief.
“I did manage to snag one thing during our escape,” Kye said, reaching inside her tunic and pulling out a roll of parchments, which she handed to Gorm. The big man shook off his grief long enough to unroll them. His eyes widened as he read the contents.
“These are the troop movements that Mac sold to Holua,” he said, before rifling through the papers. “But there’s more. These look like correspondence between Holua and some third party.” He held one of the documents up and tapped it with a finger. “See? Here he’s suggesting ships be sent to…” he glanced at the document more closely in the dim light of the moon. “Praxxis?” He looked up and caught Pax’s eye. “What could Holua want with ships in Praxxis?”
The lithe fighter shrugged. “It’s a great place to launch an attack on Süt if such a thing were necessary.”
“You think Holua is making a deal with Thynne? And to think that Mac wanted to sell these to the man. Talk about a misjudgment of character,” Hax grumbled.
“Shut your mouth,” Gorm grated. “I’ll not let you stand around and disparage the dead.”
Hax held up his hands, palm out, clearly not wanting any part of the big man’s anger. “I’m just saying. It’s pretty ironic, ain’t it? Mac thought Holua’d be in his corner, but turns out the man’s playing him all along and already cut a deal with the very person Mac wanted to sabotage.”
“Ironic is not the word I would choose,” Gorm replied. “Padraig!” Gorm called. “We need to make double time. Once old Holua realizes that these are gone, he’ll have every man at his disposal on the hunt. These implicate him in anything that Thynne does.”
“Aye, sir!” Padraig replied before relaying the orders to the sailors. Without comment, the rest of the Talon lent a hand where possible, all the time trying to be as quiet as they could. Sound could carry a very long way over still water.
Sparrowhawk creaked as Callan and Derro cast off the lines. The sound of canvas snapping in the light breeze carried across the water, and the ship moved slowly toward the mouth of the harbor.
Thanks for reading! I’m grateful that you’re here.
All caught up on ADTR? Why not explore something else?
In Search of a Reckoning is part 2 of my new historical fiction serial that chronicles the events leading up to and including the sack of Rome by the Senones in 387 BCE.
The Roots That Clutch is a dark fairytale of loss and unbecoming.
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and , and was part of the Hallowtide Files that dropped on Spooky Day itself. If you’re still in the mood for some scares, check it out (and follow the link to the hub post so you can explore all the rest of these amazing tales).
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Nooo … (yes still reading the serial and haven’t read the book yet) … is Mac mostly dead?? But Holua wouldn’t be all Macbethy for no reason …. 😭😭😭