Chapter 23
A Dread Tide Rising by Walt Shuler
Today feels… consequential. It’s Monday again (my first as a solo business owner). It’s also the first day of the last month of the year. The Spireguard (paid subs) has gone live. And we’re on Chapter 23, which is perhaps the most pivotal and revealing we’ve had yet. All I can say is buckle up (and I hope you enjoy).
Previously: Mac and his new friends took on a fleet of slavers and… we’ll find out what happened to them later.
Currently: Gorm, Kye, and the rest of the Talon flee from Leandering and Holua’s wrath, but escape might not be so easy.
A Dread Tide Rising is a serialized, pulp-flavored, epic fantasy novel that 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 23
The rigging thrummed in the cold wind.
Sparrowhawk was two days from Leandering, and the sun was beginning to crest the eastern horizon. They had slipped out of the harbor as quietly as possible. No immediate pursuit had materialized, and Padraig had ordered as much canvas aloft as he deemed safe. The wind was desultory but present, and they made consistent progress eastward. The faint hope that they had left any potential pursuit behind blossomed in Kye’s chest. That proved short-lived.
“Sail ho!” one of the twins cried.
“Where away?” Padraig asked.
“Aft, Captain!” came the reply.
The members of the Talon, already on edge, came to immediate alert. Kye headed to the top of the sails, Mattie just a moment behind. From her perch, she could make out the triangular sails behind them.
“One ship,” she muttered to Mattie. “Just one.” For a moment, relief flooded her heart. Then a second set of sails appeared, followed by a third. Within minutes, there were four ships in pursuit. She slid down the lines to the deck.
“I count four ships,” she told Gorm.
“Four? Damn the luck.” Gorm turned to Padraig, who stood nearby, manning the steering oar. “We need to make better time.”
Padraig shook his head. “Impossible. I’ve already got every inch of canvas Sparrowhawk can carry aloft. If the wind changes, I judge us far enough ahead that they won’t catch us. If it stays as it is, or dies? They’ll be on us in a few hours.”
“Won’t the lack of wind affect them, too?” Mattie wanted to know.
“Aye, it does,” Padraig answered. “But they have something we do not: oars. No wind doesn’t affect House Coët’s warships.”
“So, what do we do?” Kye asked.
“We wait and prepare,” Gorm replied. “We’ll not give up easily.”
Silence fell over the Talon as they all went about whatever preparations they could make. Kye and Mattie found themselves with little to do, other than standing at the ship’s aft end, watching the sails behind them grow ever larger.
“What will we do when they catch us?” Mattie asked.
“Padraig’ll outrun them. Sparrowhawk’s faster than those tubs,” Kye replied with a confidence she did not feel. She stole another glance at their pursuers. Had the sails grown closer?
“Fine,” Mattie said. “Let’s say you’re right and we escape. Will you come home after?”
Kye did not reply immediately. She stared off into the distance, praying that it was only her imagination that made the ships look so much closer. Returning to Rakka meant dealing with her mother, who had never seemed to care. She had inducted her daughter into the Faceless ranks like she was any other urchin. Kye never wanted special treatment, but during the years of training, her mother had never once come to see her. Never sent word. Not so much as a note asking how she was doing. No doubt her mother’s spies had kept an eye on her, but that was not the same thing. That was for her mother’s sake, not Kye’s.
She shook her head. “There’s nothing for me in Rakka.”
“Not even me?” Mattie asked.
Kye glanced at him. Mattie refused to meet her gaze. His usually pale cheeks held a touch of red. Was he blushing?
“What are you saying?”
“It’s just that…um…” Mattie trailed off, then marshaled his courage. “I like you, Kye. A lot. Always have.”
“I like you, too. You’re probably my only real friend in the city.”
Mattie shook his head. “No, not like a friend. Like a…” he trailed off.
“Lover?” Kye finished, then elbowed him in the side when his cheeks turned cherry-red.
“Look, I’m serious,” he said after recovering himself. “I’ve always had feelings for you, and I think you do for me, too. Would you come back to Rakka for me?”
“Mattie…”
He plunged on, heedless of her interruption. “We could leave the Faceless, set up on one of the outer rings. I could get a boat, maybe become a fisherman.”
“And I’d do what? Be a fisherman’s wife? Clean your catch and dry it in the sun while salt crusts on my skin? That might be fine for some, but it’s not for me, Mattie.”
Mattie’s face fell. Kye put a hand on his arm.
“Look, I’ll admit that maybe what I feel for you is more than just friendship. It’s complicated, though.” She cupped his chin and pulled his face up to look him in the eye. “But Mattie, no one gets out of the Faceless alive without special dispensation.” She glared at him. “And I’m no fishwife!”
Despite the emotions choking his throat, Mattie laughed. “No, never that,” he allowed.
Kye put her hand on his shoulder. “Just be my friend for now, Mattie. It’s all I can give. We can figure things out later.”
Mattie did not press her any further, a fact that made Kye very grateful. She had not lied, not about her feelings for him. There was friendship and maybe something deeper, too. But she could not let herself think about the future right now. There were bigger things to worry about.
“The ships are getting closer!” she called to Gorm. The big man nodded without looking up from what he was doing. He and Wynne were busy testing bowstrings. Nearby lay several unstrung bows Gorm had carried up from one of the many storage areas on the ship. Barrels filled with arrows had been set up strategically on the deck, so everyone had easy access when the time came.
“Let’s lend a hand,” Mattie said. Kye agreed. Even if it was pointless, it would feel good to have something to do. And who knew, one of those bows might somehow turn the tide. She did not expect that to be the case, but she had been wrong before.
She sat down not far from Wynne, Mattie close by. Kye picked up a bowstring and ran it between her fingers. It felt lifeless and loose. “Did they get wet?” she asked.
Wynne strung a bow and pulled the string back before easing the tension and setting the bow to the side. “Not wet, but they weren’t waxed proper.”
“Same as getting wet,” Gorm grumbled. “With all the humidity, strings that aren’t protected lose their strength pretty quickly. Some of these are salvageable, but you’ll only get a pull or two before they need to be replaced.”
Wynne strung another bowstring, pulled it back, and winced. She unstrung the bow and tossed the offending string onto a larger pile. “We’re hoping to get enough that we can at least pretend to fight back.”
Given the disparity between the two piles, Kye thought Wynne’s plan unlikely. Still, she owed it to them to pitch in no matter how bleak the outcome might be. A glance astern showed the pursuing ships had closed the distance further, inexorable as the sunrise and much more worrisome.
“What should we expect?” Mattie asked.
“They’ll probably try to overtake us and then board. They’ll come alongside, toss grapnels onto Sparrowhawk, and then pull us together. They’ll board us and, if we’re lucky, lock us in chains for the trip back to Leandering. If we’re unlucky, they’ll execute us at sea.”
“Execute us?” Mattie’s face was paler than usual. “You really think so?”
Gorm shrugged. “Depends on Holua’s orders and how concerned he is about us talking about what he thinks we know.”
“But what does he think we know?”
“Your guess is as good as mine. The information in the documents you two stole is important, but I don’t know that it warrants four ships sent out to capture the thieves who took it. And you can bet if there are four ships here, there are others we haven’t seen, plus agents sent by land.”
“He’s spooked,” Kye observed.
“Just so,” Gorm nodded. “We know a little bit, but my hunch is that Holua thinks we know a deal more than we do. And he’s willing to go to great lengths to silence us. Just look at what he did to Mac. Dumped in the sea like some common criminal.”
Wynne put a hand on his leg. “We are criminals,” she said.
Gorm waved the comment away. “That we are, but Mac’s the son of a Great House. A fallen one, perhaps, but even an enemy would have accorded his corpse more dignity. And to think he once called Holua a friend.”
“With friends like that…” Mattie let the thought trail off.
“They’re getting kind of close,” Pax warned. She and her brother had stepped out from the galley, both carrying bows. Kye glanced aft and saw that the ships were indeed much closer. She could make out individual sailors on the deck of the leading craft. The other three trailed behind the first, but all would be within striking distance of arrows in less time than she cared to contemplate.
Gorm glanced at the two piles of bowstrings. “Right,” he said, pushing himself up from the deck. “Arm yourselves. Everyone gets a bow, even if you’re a lousy shot. When your bowstring breaks or your arrows will no longer reach the enemy, get another string.”
“Gods be with us,” Wynne breathed, grabbing a bow and several strings for herself.
“Don’t stand too close to the rail,” Hax warned. “Makes you easier to spot.”
Kye nodded, unsure that she would be any help at all. She knew the basics of the bow, of course. All the Faceless were required to train with bows, daggers, and staves. Even the young cutpurses. She had bested most everyone with a blade, but was not much good with a bow. Kye glanced at the approaching ships, at the scurrying soldiers that lined the decks. She might not be very good, but every arrow would help.
“Stand ready!” Gorm called. All across the deck, the Talon prepared to defend themselves. Kye even saw Callan and Derro with bows in their hands. The only person not armed was Padraig, who kept his hands on the steering oar. With the distance closing quickly, the twins had taken down most of the sails. Padraig was only keeping them from spinning in the water.
“When they loose their volley, find something to hide behind, a barrel, bulkhead, whatever. Once they’re spent, pop out, loose your own arrows, and get back under cover.”
“Won’t they just loose in waves to keep us pinned down?” Pax asked. Kye realized this would have been the most effective use of the soldiers’ superior numbers. It would leave little time for the Talon to fight back while peppering them constantly with arrows.
Gorm smiled tightly. “They might, but I wouldn’t count on it. House Coët’s commanders aren’t what you would call innovative. They know one playbook, and they stick to it.”
“Let’s hope you’re right and no enterprising sergeant decided to change things up and make a name for themselves,” Pax replied.
A roar went up from the soldiers massed on the other deck. The battle was on. An arrow thunked into the decking between Gorm and Pax, silencing further conversation.
“Find cover!” Gorm warned, hunkering down not far from where Kye sheltered behind a barrel full of arrows. The air was full of hissing as arrows bit into the ship and the sails. Many fell uselessly short or flew wide to be lost in the sea. Then, as suddenly as it began, the hail of arrows stopped.
“Talon, give ‘em hell!” Gorm ordered, stepping out from behind cover and loosing an arrow. It took a soldier in the throat, the man falling to the deck. The Talon loosed, reloaded, and loosed again. Most arrows struck their targets, thinning the ranks of the leading ship as blood spread across the deck.
“I got one!” Mattie crowed as a soldier fell, then tumbled into the sea. Other bodies floated nearby, and yet the ships came on. Kye knew her arrows had hit the mark several times, but could not be sure if she had slain anyone. It was an oddly comforting thought. Then arrows were coming for them, and Kye hid behind her barrel once more.
“We’ve thinned their ranks,” she heard Wynne say, but then everything was drowned out in the hiss and thud of arrows striking home. She felt her barrel vibrate as arrows slammed into its staves. Others peppered the deck, some skittering away, but some striking true and sticking up. To Kye’s eyes, the growing forest of arrows embedded in the deck looked like porcupine quills. When the deluge slowed and then stopped, the Talon once more took their places, bows in hand.
Kye drew back on the bow, arrow sighted in, only to feel the bowstring part with a twang. “Damn,” she muttered, pulling a spare from her pocket. It took a moment to restring her bow, and she begrudged every second. Another twang farther down the deck told her someone else’s string had snapped. Glancing that way, she saw it was Mattie. He dug in his pocket for a spare but came up empty. He looked from his bow to the pile of spare strings, then to the attackers, and he came to a decision. He sprinted for the strings, intent on doing his part to defend them.
“Mattie, stop!” Kye yelled.
“Get back to cover!” Gorm ordered.
It was too late. The attackers had recovered and reloaded. The air was filled with arrows, and the Talon were forced to take cover. Everyone but Mattie. The young thief reached the pile of spare bowstrings, grabbed a handful, shoved them into his pocket, and began retracing his path as quick as a cat. But the enemy’s arrows were faster. Kye screamed as one took him in the shoulder, spinning him around. A second thudded into his chest. Through rising tears, she saw him falter and then collapse to the deck.
“No!” Kye screamed, and time slowed to a stop. Something hot and heavy rose in her chest then, something that raged and ached and clawed its way up her throat. Her cry of loss pierced the heavens. The wind, fitful and coy all day, now rose all about them, driving against House Coët’s ships. The sky ripped open, black clouds boiled above, and Kye could no longer contain the thing that grew inside her.
Without knowing how she knew to do it, Kye stood and faced the four ships that now fought the wind and raging sea. She raised a hand to the heavens, then brought it down, index finger pointing at the leading ship. Lightning arced from the sky, blue-white and hot as the sun, to strike the ship’s mast. Another bolt struck the deck, throwing living men about like toys. The ship was instantly aflame, and men screamed as they futilely fought the fire.
The fiery rage inside Kye now turned to icy calm. She raised her hand again, and again lightning lanced down, striking the second ship. Again, and then again, and all four ships were engulfed in flame, their crews scattered or dead. Kye turned away from the conflagration, suddenly overcome by what she had done. Mattie’s body lay not far away, his face turned toward her, eyes open but unseeing. He had been a friend, perhaps her only true friend in the world. He had loved her, and even if she had not wanted to commit to a life with him, she had loved him too, in her own way. Suddenly, it was not enough. Nothing could be enough to wipe his death from her mind.
Whirling back to the ships, she touched the power that lay inside her, no longer buried deep, but just beneath the surface, like a second skin. The wind built, becoming a hurricane that struck the burning ships like a hammer. Timbers cracked in that raging storm; masts split like matchsticks. One by one, the ships broke apart and sank, leaving behind shattered remnants and the bodies of their dead. Through it all, Sparrowhawk sat safe and unscathed. She floated gently on the swells, protected from the gale.
As the last ship shuddered into ruin, Kye let go of the power. Denied its buoying force, her knees buckled, and she sagged to the deck, unconscious. Silence descended like something palpable, broken only by the slap of water against the ship’s hull. Wynne and Gorm exchanged a long look before Wynne gingerly approached Kye’s prone form. She gently touched the girl’s hand, but there was no movement. Kneeling on the deck, Wynne gathered Kye close and held her, gently rocking back and forth.
Hax and Pax, Callan and Derro, and even Padraig gathered nearby, eyes wide as they stared at the young thief.
“What is she?” Hax asked. “What was that?”
“Magic,” Gorm answered. He rose from the deck, dusting himself off. He walked to Mattie’s body and gently lifted it from the deck. “Our guess is that she’s a weather witch, but she did not know it.”
“Our guess?” Pax asked, eyes narrowing.
“You knew?” Wynne asked, hurt in her voice.
Gorm carried Mattie into the galley and then gently laid the boy’s body on the table. He crossed his hands on his chest and closed his eyes before turning back to the Talon.
“We suspected,” he admitted, speaking to the group but looking at Wynne. “Mac and I. Especially after the strangeness with that merchant ship and what happened there. But we weren’t sure, and there was a pretty good chance that we were imagining things.”
Wynne appeared mollified by the answer, but it did not sit well with everyone. “Still could have told us. A little warning would have been nice,” Hax muttered. Everyone else ignored him.
“The question we need to answer is what we’re going to do with her,” Pax said.
“Do? Why would we do anything with her?” Wynne asked.
“She’s one of the Talon now,” Gorm said.
“Do we want a weather worker in the Talon?” Pax continued. “Her kind make my skin itch.”
Hax grunted his agreement.
“Her kind?” Wynne accused. “She’s just a girl, Pax. And she’s part of us.”
“Just a girl?” Pax laughed. “She’s what, sixteen? I’d killed my share of men by the time I was her age, but that doesn’t hold a candle to what she can do. You saw what she did to those ships, those men. They never stood a chance! Battle is one thing, but this is something else altogether.” She trailed off, fists clenched at her sides. “What’s to stop her from doing the same to us the next time she gets angry?”
“That’s neither here nor there,” Hax said, surprising everyone. “I’m not going to condemn her just because she’s different. I can’t say that I’m comfortable with magic,” he added, “but Wynne’s right. She’s Talon now.”
Pax glared at him but mercifully did not argue. Any further discussion was cut short as Kye began to rouse. She stirred and tried to sit up, only to fall back to the deck. Wynne was by her side in an instant.
“Are you all right? Let me help you sit up.” Carefully, she helped Kye into a sitting position.
Kye held a hand to her head. It throbbed and pounded. “Ow. It feels like I got hit by the boom. What happened?” She glanced around at the group. “Where’s Mattie?” she asked. Everyone was so quiet. What was going on, she wondered. Had they won the battle?
“Oh, my dear,” Wynne said and pulled Kye close. As she did, memories flooded back. Kye saw Mattie once more struck and spun around by an arrow. She saw the second punch through his chest, knocking him to the deck. A pit of blackness opened in her stomach.
“He’s dead, isn’t he?” she asked in a whisper. Wynne nodded and held her close. Sobs wracked Kye’s body, and Wynne held her tight until they subsided.
“Sail ho!” The cry brought Wynne’s head up. Kye wiped tears from her face and stared around with bleary eyes. More of Holua’s soldiers?
“Sails ahead, Captain! North by northeast!” Kye recognized Derro’s voice.
“Blast and be damned,” Padraig swore as he stared into the distance. Derro slid down the mast, landing lightly on the deck. Everyone strained to see what the new threat might be.
“Red sails!” Gorm exclaimed. “Just what we need.”
“More trouble?” Kye asked, managing to get up on one knee.
“More than we want right now,” Hax said, mouth set in a grim line. “Red sails mean just one thing. Slavers. It’s the damn Estari.”
The sound of running footsteps from behind them caught them by surprise. They were followed by a thud and then the sound of a body hitting the deck. By the time Kye managed to turn around, everything was over. Derro lay unmoving on the deck, and his brother Callan stood over his body, a belaying pin in hand. A dagger lay on the deck not far from Derro’s outstretched hand, its serrated blade glinting wickedly in the sunlight.
Hax and Pax reached for their weapons while Wynne moved to stand between Callan and Kye.
“What’s the meaning of this?” Gorm asked, his staff somehow magically in his hands.
Callan pointed the belaying pin at the man prone on the deck. “This is not my brother. It looks like Derro, but it is something else.”
“It?” Gorm asked, eyes widening.
“It’s true,” Kye added. “Something happened back before we reached the Straits. He…changed. His eyes were like blue ice.” Quickly, she explained what had happened that night and then during their passage through the Straits.
“It is not Derro,” Callan said, crossing his arms over his chest.
“No, I don’t think it is,” Gorm agreed. “The question is, what do we do with him now? We also have another problem to deal with.” He nodded toward the approaching ships.
“Let me handle this,” Hax said, pulling a length of rope from a locker. He quickly bound the unconscious Derro and then lugged him into the galley.
“Well, that just leaves the Estari,” Wynne said, a touch of worry in her voice.
“Bloody bastards,” Pax said, fingering her hatchets. The look on her face could only be called hungry.
Ahead, the Estari ship loomed larger. They could make out individual sailors lining the deck, and déjà vu hit Kye.
Thanks for reading! I’m grateful that you’re here.
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Well that was awesome and sad and INTENSE! I felt that in my chest. So good!
It’s Mac? Is it Mac?