Chapter 2
A Dread Tide Rising, by Walt Shuler
A quick update: I’d originally planned to alternate between ADTR and Malediction, but I'm changing plans. I’ll post all of the ADTR chapters (one per week), and when that wraps, I’ll jump over to Malediction. I feel like it will be less jarring for all of you that way. But feel free to let me know if you’d rather I go back to the original schedule.
Now on to the story.
A Dread Tide Rising is a 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.
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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The fire crackled.
“I was a thief,” Kye said around a mouthful of food. “Worked with the Faceless.”
Mac choked on his ale, sticky liquid running down his neck and soaking into his shirt. He cursed and mopped at the mess. That was a name to muddy waters and make a man think twice before doing a damn thing, he thought.
“Right bunch of prickly bastards,” Hax chimed in from the other side of the fire, echoing Mac’s thoughts. “Ran into them a few years back working a job down in Rakka.” He looked at his sister. “Remember that one guy, Pax? Fat bugger, big beard. Running weapons to the rebels over in Süt?”
Pax nodded, laughing. “He wept like a baby when you cut him!”
“Right, but he worked with that other guy. What was his name? Namath?”
“Manas,” Pax supplied.
Hax brightened. “Right, him. He was part of the Faceless! Ended up stabbing some merchant in the neck over a game of Essent, I heard. Like that Faceless bastard never cheated before!”
“What would the Faceless need with someone your age, Kye?” Mac broke in, eager to head off the twins and their walk down memory lane. He did not yet entirely trust the girl, and he wasn’t all that fond of the siblings’ stories. They usually ended in blood rather than laughter. Or blood and laughter, which was actually worse. “I didn’t realize they recruited so young.”
Kye nodded, mouth stuffed with three-day-old stale bread. “Mmrbph, urgmlf,” she mumbled.
“The Faceless?” Wynn asked from her spot between Kye and Gorm. Her curly hair was undone, hanging like a shadow in the firelight. She sat close to the big warrior, closer than pure companionship would dictate, but did not touch him.
Gorm kept his mouth shut and his eyes open. He listened intently to the discussion around the campfire, but his eyes watched the darkness. They were camped in the middle of no man’s land, but it paid to be wary, even before bedding down for the night. They had taken the land route northwest across Aeth rather than going by water since any pursuers would likely go to the harbor first and scout for ships, giving the Talon a head start. Still, it was better to be cautious. They would be much more comfortable once they were a couple of days away from the way station.
“A thieves’ guild,” Mac answered Wynn’s question. “Well, I guess it would be the thieves’ guild since they don’t let anyone else operate in Rakka or anywhere else within reach. Way I hear it, they have their hand in most everything in the Rings, from smuggling to pickpocketing to second-story work.”
“Oh!” Wynn murmured appreciatively. “Sounds like quite the organization.” A thought struck her. “Say, why don’t we ever take contracts with them? Bet they’d pay well.” She shot Mac a glance and muttered, “Or at all.”
“Talon Company will have no truck with the Faceless if I can help it,” Mac replied. “Hax has the right of it, too prickly for my tastes. They don’t work with anyone outside of their guild if it can be avoided, and they have a habit of strong-arming smaller operations into joining up. We’ve no need of that sort of drama.”
He would be damned to Azair’s hells before he threw in with that lot, he thought to himself. It wasn’t only the lack of autonomy that came with the contracts. It was the guild’s habit of absorbing smaller crews that worried Mac. Better to keep outside the Rings and steer clear of the Faceless. He looked the girl over again. Was he taking too much risk in feeding her? Would this come back to bite them later?
“They take all kinds, even children,” Kye explained after finally swallowing the monstrous mouthful. “If you’re old enough to hold a blade and slit a purse or a pocket, you’re old enough to work the streets.”
The girl’s tale of enforced captivity seemed to be true, Mac thought. She had eaten enough food to put a man of Gorm’s size into a coma, much less a normal person. She had definitely been deprived. With food, water, and freedom, the girl’s health would improve, and she would grow stronger quickly.
“You know, I’ve been thinking,” Wynn began.
“Oh no we don’t!” Pax interrupted. “Last time you got to thinking, it cost us a bag of gold and landed us in the lockup. We had to break out.” Her face darkened. “And I lost my favorite hatchet.”
“That was an accident. How was I supposed to know the mayor’s mistress and wife were sisters and on good terms?” That elicited a laugh. “Like I said, I was thinking. Why is it Talon Company, anyway? It doesn’t really strike fear into the hearts of our enemies, does it?”
“Well…” Mac began, but Hax cut him off.
“Yeah, why is that? I say we need us a proper name. Something that’ll make folks afraid to cross us.” His grin was more than a little manic. “What about the Red Claws?”
“What? Not on your life!” Wynn laughed, feeding twigs into the fire and sending a shower of sparks into the star-smeared sky above. “What about Tenpenny Pinchers?”
“Girl, that’s no name for a band like ours,” Pax chided. “I think we should be the Bloody Blades!”
“The Iron Fists!” Hax shouted.
“The Bloated Corpses!” Pax yelled.
“Enough!” Mac growled, cutting them all off. “It’s not the Tenpenny Pinchers. We’re not thieves. Well, not exclusive like. It’s not the Red Claws. It’s not the Bloody Blades, and it damn sure isn’t the Bloated Corpses.” He shot Pax a look of mingled concern and revulsion at the last one. “We’re Talon Company. I run the company. I choose the name.”
“Life has no name. It is the wind down the mountainside,” Gorm intoned. The others exchanged glances and shrugs. Kye looked a question at Mac, but he waved it away. What was there to say? Gorm was, well, Gorm. The big warrior would argue he was the simplest of men, but that did not bear out in Mac’s experience.
Silence settled over the group then, each lost in his or her own thoughts. Overhead amongst the stars, the Swan stepped her endless dance with the Hunter, never quite touching, but never reaching freedom, either.
Mac swore.
“What? What is it?” Wynn asked. Hax and Pax were on their feet, weapons half-drawn. Gorm’s staff was in his hands, although no one recalled seeing him stand or grab the weapon.
“Wait, wait, it’s nothing,” Mac said, waving them back to their seats. He reached back and pulled the leather satchel they had stolen from the way station into his lap. “Just realized we never really got a good look at the take from this little job.” He unlatched the buckle, lifted the flap and reached inside. He pulled out a clenched fist and opened it, releasing a rain of small objects that struck the grass at his feet, where they sparkled with reflected firelight.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I give you our take, courtesy of Lord Gregory Thynne,” Mac said with a flourish. Appreciative whistles sounded from around the fire.
“Pretties!” Wynn’s voice caught in her throat at the sight. Hax and Pax let out appreciative sighs. It was a truly impressive haul. The gems could be fenced for more gold than the company had seen at any one time before.
“As Molly promised,” Gorm said.
Mac nodded. “It’s an uncanny ability she’s got, but I’m not going to argue.”
“Given the sounds coming from your room the last time you two were together, Mac, I’d think you’d avoid arguing for more reasons than the occasional job,” Hax rejoined, an eyebrow raised. Mac said nothing but had the good grace to blush.
“That’s enough to set us up for a bit!” Pax said, her grin feral.
“Maybe enough to take some time off. Skip all the usual job hunting and relax?” Wynn looked from Gorm to Mac.
“Perhaps,” Mac allowed. “First, we need to trek across this island to Scylline’s Cross. Padraig will be waiting with Sparrowhawk there.” He looked to Kye. “That’s the only real civilized spot on this rock, and the most likely place for you to find your own way.”
Kye looked uncertain but nodded. Then in a small voice, she asked, “Who’s Molly?”
“Mac’s woman,” Wynn replied, teasing laughter in her voice.
“Oh!” Kye breathed. “What’s she like?”
Wynn leaned closer to the other girl, voice dropping conspiratorially. “She works as an ambassador or something in Rakka, right in the heart of the Empire! And she’s beautiful, of course. Skin like polished copper and eyes like amber.”
Kye’s own eyes were drowsy and far away for a moment as she remembered her own life in the city. “Is she a thief, too?”
“No, silly,” Wynn laughed. “She’s the only honest one among us brigands.” Her smile was bright even in the firelight. “Molly’s our inside man. Sends word about potential jobs and the like. But she’s a real lady. Above this sort of thing. Why would someone like her need to steal and smuggle? Bet she’s got all she needs and then some.”
Neither caught the look that momentarily crossed Mac’s face, before he coughed, breaking into the conversation. “That’s enough of that. Molly’s reasons are her own, and none of us gets to pry into them.” Silence descended over the Talon for a moment.
“What’s this, then?” Pax’s tone was quiet, thoughtful, even. That was enough out of character for Mac to perk up.
“What’s what?” he asked.
Pax held the discarded satchel in one hand, a small packet of documents in the other. Even in the flickering light of the fire, Mac could make out the wax seal that secured the packet, and the shape embossed into the red wax - a sailfish over a flaming mountain, the emblem of House Thynne.
Mac held out his hand, and Pax passed the packet over, a look of disappointment flitting across her face. Mac drew his dagger and sliced through the wax, letting the packet fall open. He studied the contents for a moment, brows rising with each line he read. Finally, he passed the documents to Gorm.
“What do you make of this?” he asked the big man.
Gorm perused the document quickly. “Mother Ocean,” he muttered.
“Truth.”
“Mac, these show…”
“The disposition of all the troops House Thynne has committed to defeating the rebels in Süt, plus all the supplies they’re sending?”
“Yeah.”
“I did notice that.”
Wynn whistled low. Gorm folded the parchments again before handing them back to Mac.
“What do you plan to do with those?”
An evil light glinted in Mac’s eyes. “Oh, I think I can find a use or two for that information. Could be I know some folks who would be mighty happy to be privy to that sort of thing.”
“For the right amount of gold, of course,” Hax piped in, naked greed on his face.
Mac nodded. “Selling them will be our first option, of course, but failing that, I’d be willing to part with this particular information free of charge to the right parties.”
“Where’s the godsdamned profit in that? And you call yourself a mercenary,” Hax muttered, sulking, but no one paid him any attention. All eyes were fixed on Mac, who shoved the purloined documents into his own pack.
“If there’s nothing else, I suggest everyone get some shuteye. It’s a long trip from here to Scylline’s Cross, and we leave at first light.” He stretched out, elbowing rocks and debris out of the way to make himself more comfortable, before adding, “Kye, when we get there, we’ll help you start your new life.”
The girl made no reply, and Mac saw that she was already fast asleep, curled up near the fire with half a loaf of stale bread clutched tight to her chest. It was a long time before Mac found sleep himself.
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The look Mac gave to Pax over "The Bloated Corpses" was perfect. Fantastic writing!
There are a lot of people to keep track of here. 😅😂 I’m just starting to get to know them. Sounds like they're stealing their way into trouble.