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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Previously:
In Chapter 7, Kye went with Murphy, hoping to start a new life, but he betrayed her for the price on her head. Mac and the Talon attempted a rescue, but Kye ultimately killed Murphy herself.
Now:
The Talon (plus Kye) heads north toward their ship, Sparrowhawk, intent on leaving Aeth behind and sailing for Rom and answers to the question of the shapeshifters.
Chapter 8
The wind hissed through the brown grasses of the plain.
“I still can’t believe we’re going to gods-be-damned Rom,” Pax muttered. Hax laughed at her irritation. Then he sneezed. She glared at him, eyes icy. “You get sick, I’m leaving you for the sharks,” she said, stabbing a finger into his chest.
“Aw, Pax, come on,” Hax pleaded, wiping his nose with the back of one hand. “I’m not sick yet. Only a touch of the sniffles, you’ll see.”
“Did you at least go see Uncle Jack like we talked about?” she asked.
Hax perked up. “I did,” he said with a long sniffle. “He said he’s not been gettin’ on that well and that we should probably come back real soon to see him. Also called us a couple of ungrateful gits for waiting so long between visits.”
“Right, because we have all this free time.” Pax continued to glare as the twins brought up the rear of the group.
They traveled northeast from Scylline’s Cross, across the broad plain that lay between the city and the rugged northern coast. A few hours would see them rendezvous with Padraig and Sparrowhawk. Mac had decided an early leave-taking was preferable to waiting around to see which of Murphy’s subordinates came out on top and realized making an example of those responsible for their leader’s demise would be a good way to cement their hold. The Talon headed out the next day, but not before selling the horses and most of the gear. They carried everything they owned on their backs now.
Gorm and Wynn walked together, both keeping an eye on Kye, who had been unusually quiet. Gorm chalked it up to her brush with death at the hands of Murphy and his men, but Wynn had her doubts.
Mac walked ahead, keeping a wary eye out for any unwanted surprises. With each twist and turn in the road, his nerves settled further. Chances were good that if any of Murphy’s surviving crew were going to get revenge for their boss’s untimely death, they would have tried it closer to town and their power base. Out here, amidst the salt wind and brown grasses, the town thieves had no advantage.
“Help me understand something, Kye,” Mac said, slowing his pace to walk beside the girl. “Why did the Faceless put the death mark on you? Tired of you breathing the same air?”
Kye smiled but shook her head. “It was my fault,” she said, then paused, mulling things over before once more beginning. “I shouldn’t have tried to help Tanna.”
Mac said nothing but waited for her to continue. The young thief looked off into the distance, where the gray of the sky blurred with the drab brown of the plains in their autumn garb. To the west, the island’s central spine of mountains mounted upward into the sky.
“Tanna was Sanean. Escaped from her owners,” Kye said. “She was kind to me once. When you’re a child of the streets, that’s not something you take for granted. Kindness doesn’t exist for those living in the gutters and on the margins. So, when I found her beaten and dumped near the docks, I helped her. Gave her a place to hole up for a while.” The girl paused, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye.
“Tanna was my friend. When she told me her parents were in danger of being killed by her old owner, I had to do something. So, I called in a few favors and got them out.”
Mac’s eyes widened, and he let out a low whistle. “Out? Of the city?”
Kye nodded. Mac’s estimation of the girl rose. Getting a single slave out of Rakka was a major undertaking. Helping three Sanean to escape was a feat close to impossible and would carry with it a death sentence from the emperor’s courts.
“Why would they go?” Gorm asked from Kye’s left. He had dropped back, and she had not noticed, lost in retelling her tale. “Weren’t they Marked?”
Kye shrugged. “Her parents were. Tanna didn’t have the Mark, though. She was born in Rakka, and she said her parents somehow hid her when the Markers came ‘round. Since then, she kept herself hidden. You’d be surprised how easy it is to avoid notice when you’re covered in filth all the time.”
Rakka did a brisk business in the slave trade. The empire required that all Sanean slaves be Marked, and Markers only worked in Rakka itself. Of course, the island’s slave markets held far more than Marked Sanean. Estari and even citizens of the empire routinely wound up on the block, sold to the highest bidder. Many became galley rowers, but others would become warriors pressed into service for life, handmaids and body servants, and more. Blue, brown, black, or white, slave flesh was one of the largest imports and exports.
“But what about her parents?” Mac asked. “If they were Marked, the Sanean won’t take ‘em back. They’ll be outcasts. What will they do?”
“Tanna told me there was somewhere they could go. A band of Marked refugees that the tribes would no longer take back. That’s where they were going.”
Gorm shared a look with Mac. “We’ve heard the rumors, but no one has ever encountered them.”
Mac shrugged. “Those rumors have been floating around since I was a boy, maybe before. I always chalked it up to superstition or wishful thinking.”
“Why don’t they take ‘em back, Mac?” Hax asked. He and Pax had moved closer to overhear the conversation.
Pax punched him in the arm. “Because they’re Marked, dolt.”
“But that’s what I mean. It’s just a scar, ain’t it? I’ve got plenty of ‘em. Never stopped me from goin’ where I wanted.”
Mac spoke louder so his words would carry to the twins. “I’m probably not the best one to explain, Hax,” he said, scratching at a stubbled cheek. “It has to do with what the Markers do when they scar ‘em. It’s a taint that seeps into their blood, from what I hear. Makes ‘em unclean, according to the tribes.”
“Huh? A scar’s a scar, Mac.” Hax’s look of confusion made Kye chuckle.
“That’s what I’m saying,” Mac said, trying to keep his tone even. “They don’t just cut through their flesh. The Markers cut their own skin and mix their blood in the wound. Some say there’s magic involved, too.”
Hax opened his mouth to retort, no doubt to scoff at the idea of magic, but then he closed it again. Mac could almost see the fighter’s thoughts as they formed, memories rising of a dying swordsman somehow becoming a bird and flying away, leaving behind blood and questions.
“Well,” Hax said eventually, “I don’t know much about magic. Might be.”
Mac nodded. “Might be. Whether it’s true or not, it’s barbaric. All slavery was banned on Toth lands centuries ago. Most living in the north and west of the empire take a dim view of slavery and involuntary servitude.”
“Probably because there are too few people to worry about having to guard your slaves while the Estari are raiding your towns. Not to mention the free Sanean,” Gorm conjectured. Then he sighed. “Such a waste.”
Mac shrugged. “I’m not particularly interested in debating the whys and wherefores.” He looked at Kye. “You’ll find no Sanean slaves in Rom. Hells, you’re more likely to run into a war band than anything else this far north. Not that folks in these waters bear all that much love for them. Those war bands being one of the reasons.”
Kye fell silent, digesting this information. The idea that the Sanean could live free was something that took more than a little getting used to, even for someone who found the practice of slavery revolting. It was such a central part of the society in which she’d grown up that it was difficult to envision something other. It made her wonder what sort of society the Sanean might have out in the wilds and why the Marked weren’t allowed to return. What taint would be enough to prevent a people from accepting their own when they managed to get free?
The Talon walked on. They camped that night in an oak grove that still retained some summer foliage, although the green had faded to brown, and the leaves rattled like bones in the cold wind that blew down from the north. The weather turned with the dawn. The last lingering warmth of summer fled as flat, gray clouds covered the sun.
The next day brought them to the coast. Here the land ended in jagged, black boulders and frothing water. The north end of the island curved away to the west and then north, creating a large but shallow bite punctuated with irregular rocky outcrops and small bays. The perfect environment for pirates and thieves. An ideal place to hide a ship.
It was within one of those small coves that they found Sparrowhawk. Mac smiled at the sight of her double masts rising over the water. Not built for war, she was lithe and her lines clean.
Sparrowhawk boasted a single long, flat deck attached to twin hulls, a form called kata and preferred by those who hailed from western waters. Kye recognized the type. In Rakka, they were rare and called arrow boats or simply arrows. Their speed, maneuverability, and cargo capacity made them prized by merchants and smugglers alike. She was larger than the more typical coasters seen throughout the empire’s waters, but smaller and nimbler than most warships. A low cabin sat near the center of the deck, and Kye guessed that each hull would contain storage space, ballast, and crew quarters. She was sleek, riding relatively low to the water, yet with a shallow draft that promised she could go far inland given an even slightly accommodating waterway.
“Don’t let her fool you,” Mac told Kye as the girl took in the ship. “She’s not new, but she holds more than a few surprises.” He turned toward the ship and cupped his hands around his mouth. “Hail the ship! Padraig, we’re coming aboard!”
The deck became a flurry of activity, as three figures leaped into action. Two sailors ran out a boarding plank, while a third took position at the ship’s steering oar near the stern. “Hold that fast!” the steersman, who Kye assumed must be Padraig, yelled at the other two. In the space of a few heartbeats, the Talon were aboard, the plank bouncing and groaning beneath their boots.
Once aboard, Mac took control. “Padraig, cast off and set course for Rom. Edge far enough out from land that the coasters don’t get wind of us, but not so far that we’re likely to be prey for Estari or Sanean ships.”
“Aye, sir!” Padraig yelled back, immediately barking orders at the two sailors who were now stowing the gangplank. The other members of the Talon stowed their gear and assumed positions on deck with no questions.
“Wynn,” Mac yelled. “Let Pax take your place. You take our guest around and get her oriented. Then I want you both back up on deck. We’ll need all hands as we round the horn.”
Wynn tossed the lines she held to Pax, then grinned at Kye. “C’mon, I’ll give you the tour.” The ship lurched beneath Kye’s feet, but fast reflexes prevented her from falling. The wind tousled her hair as the ship got underway.
Wynn led Kye first to the central cabin. It was cunningly crafted so that it nestled into the deck itself, with the floor lower, providing enough room for most to stand upright. Heavy beams supported a ceiling that gently arched over a large, scarred dining table and the ship’s galley. The floor of the galley was lined with tin to help prevent coals from the cookfire catching the ship aflame. Intricate floral patterns ran across the ceiling beams and down to the floor. In one corner, a chest overflowed with rolled parchments that Kye assumed were maps and charts.
Kye grinned as a thought struck her. “How many times has Gorm smacked his head on those beams?” she asked Wynn, indicating the thick beams that supported the ceiling.
Wynn laughed. “Too many! Being mountain-born, he sometimes forgets the nature of boats.”
Mountain-born? Kye stored that away for later. The big man fascinated her. Then something else caught her eye.
“Molly painted those,” Wynn said, indicating the swirling vines and painted flowers that decorated the space. “She sails with us from time to time, when she’s not busy with her responsibilities in Rakka, of course.”
“Mac’s woman?” Kye asked.
“If you like, but I think he’s more hers than she’s his. He loves her very much.”
Wynn led her out of the cabin and toward one of Sparrowhawk’s twin hulls. She lifted a hatch and, despite a narrow ladder mounted to the inside, dropped a few feet into the bottom. Kye followed her example and found herself in a cramped space filled with dry goods. A bulkhead and door stood a few feet away.
“C’mon.” Wynn motioned her to follow and led her through the bulkhead into the next space, which proved to be filled with casks of water. The next bulkhead led to more of the same, but through the third was a space dominated by two hammocks that hung between the sides of the hull. Two more could be glimpsed through the open bulkhead door to the next compartment.
“You can toss your stuff here,” Kye said, pointing to a net hung from the side of the hull. Another nearby net held clothing and other personal effects. “Those are mine. You’ll be bunking with me!” Wynn said with excitement.
Kye glanced at her meager belongings. The space might be small, but her needs were even less. With a smile, she stowed her things.
“Mac and Gorm bunk over there,” Wynn told her, pointing through the open doorway to the fourth compartment. “But they usually sleep up on deck if the weather’s fair. Hax, Pax, Padraig, and the sailors have berths on the other side of the ship. Not that most of us use them. If we’re not working, most of us gather in the galley or grab a nap topside.”
It all sounded very cozy to Kye. The closest she had experienced with the Faceless was the warren of rooms the younger thieves had shared. Located under a little-used temple to Crún, the tunnels served as sleeping quarters, dining spaces, meeting spaces, and training areas, all overseen by the Red Hand and his minions. She suppressed a shudder at the memory.
Their tour over, Wynn led her back to the deck. The snap of canvas, shouts of the crew as they busied themselves with a thousand different tasks, and the cry of the seabirds woke something in the girl then; a longing to see what lay beyond the waves and reefs, to venture into the uncharted deeps, and plumb Mali’s secrets.
Aeth’s rugged coastline receded as Sparrowhawk sought deeper waters and stronger winds that would carry her northward. Still, the captain did not abandon land altogether. Instead, he kept about a half-league distance to avoid hidden rocks that might rip the bottom from the ship.
Kye took a moment to take in the sights. Pax and a sailor Kye did not know were aloft, moving across the rigging like four-limbed spiders. Gorm, Mac, Hax, and two of the other sailors remained on deck, busy with securing lines and other tasks. It was mostly a mystery to Kye. While she had some knowledge of ship types, it was limited to what would be beneficial for a thief to know. That had never extended to the workings of a ship beyond the most obvious things.
As the crew worked, Sparrowhawk picked up speed, the wind filling her sails and propelling her north, perpendicular to the coastline. As she watched, the vegetation grew paler and shorter, stunted trees giving way to grasses. The northernmost point of Aeth jutted into the cold northern waters. Unprotected by the mountains that sheltered the island’s southern regions, it was scoured by storms and home to little beyond brown grasses, lichen, and the ever-present rocks.
Sparrowhawk skimmed through the waves, the land to port slowly fading into nothingness. Mac took Kye’s elbow and guided her to where Padraig held the steering oar. “Since you’re not much of a sailor, you can stand here and observe. Learn what you can by watching today, and we’ll start taking care of your education tomorrow.”
Kye nodded, studying their course. “Why are we still going north? Isn’t Rom northwest of Aeth, beyond the Thousand Isles?”
Padraig never turned his head from their course. “Know your waters better’n most, but it’s a land-borne’s sorta knowing,” he said.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Kye asked.
“Means you know the where but not the why of things on the water.”
“Well, that should be pretty obvious. I’ve rarely been aboard ship before.”
“You spend enough time with the Talon, and you’ll learn. Most of the crew were land-borne like yerself. Didn’t know an oarlock from a topsail. They learned. You will, too.”
He paused for a moment before continuing. “We go north because yon island is not quite done yet. Rocks like knives lie just beneath the waves for near on a league. Rip the bottom out of any boat with a skipper too numb to know what they’re doin’. Sparrowhawk’s draft is shallow, but best not to take chances. We’ll run north past the barrier so we don’t shoal out, then turn north-northwest. We’ll catch the northbound current south of Anseilor and west of Seilor, and skim past the Thousand Isles. You’ll be on Celize and docked in Rom within three days.”
Kye nodded but did not reply. Aeth continued to dwindle, and as she watched, the last of its stones sank beneath the water, like a drowning man’s arm reaching for salvation. From her vantage, she could not make out the shoals beneath the waves, but she believed Padraig. It felt strange, watching dry land disappear into the distance, with only empty water and sky ahead.
It felt somehow freeing. She wondered what might lie ahead, hoping that it would be a second chance.
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Love the ship. Sparrowhawk is a great name.