Heir of Thunder (Stormbourne Chronicles Book 1) (12 page)

My stomach burbled as fear stirred its contents. Each breath
came shorter and shorter as my heart flapped about like a fly trapped under a
glass. “What are you going to do with me?” I asked, raising my voice over the
disharmony of wind and crashing waves.

“There is a fat ransom waiting for me back in Glennich once
I get you home.”

All around us the ship’s crew dashed about, securing
equipment and stowing loose items. They paid us no mind. The security of the
ship consumed their attention. The gathering storm made walking precarious, and
the rocking ship threw us against each other. I prayed my abductor held his
knife steady enough to prevent accidentally stabbing me. Did my ransom even
rely on keeping me alive?

“The captain is in on this, then?” Why did I ask? Without
Gideon I had no hope of escape. The details of Praston’s plan shouldn’t have
mattered.

“No more questions. Be silent and you might make it home in
one piece.” He tugged my ropes and pushed me toward the railing. The strength
of the storm swelled, and he struggled to keep us both upright.

“There she is!”

Praston pointed to the stern. A flash of lightning
brightened the sky and revealed a hulking shadow trailing behind our ship. The
lightning also showed the familiar shapes of smoke stacks and bow, crashing its
way through the boiling sea.

“You’re going to try to switch ships?” I asked. The idea was
ludicrous, especially considering the storm’s violence.

My captor gnashed his teeth, but gave no reply. The smaller
ship behind us worked to keep up, and black smoke puffed angrily from its
pipes. He must have promised that captain a share in my ransom to acquire his
cooperation. I cried out silently to my father and begged him for help as Vesper
pushed me closer to the stern of the
LaDonna
.

“Grace!”

I was so intent on the approaching ship and the knife at my
back that I didn’t acknowledge the shouting of my assumed name.

“Grace!” That time, I heard it and so had Praston. We
whirled around and found Jackie making his way over the rocking deck.

“Stay back!” Praston ordered, brandishing his knife then
whipping it to my throat.

Jackie paused and a fierce look crossed his face. “What’s
going on?

“Nothing that concerns you.”

“Oh, but the lady is very much my concern.”

“Not anymore.”

Another bolt of lightning cut across the sky and a memory
flashed before me: Father holding me at his side as we stood on the stone
rooftop of Fallstaff in the middle of a spectacular lightning storm. He often
took me to the roof to demonstrate his fantastic abilities. On that occasion,
he had explained the Stormbourne legacy as he sent electric blue bolts dancing
across the sky.

“Many generations ago, our forefathers were considered gods!”
Father had yelled over a splendid clap of thunder. “Our great-great-grandfathers
ruled all the heavens with their control of the weather.”

“Father, are you a god?” Awe and admiration wove through my
words.

“No, my dear. Evolution and the disbelief of mankind have
diluted our powers. I imagine, in a few more generations, our abilities will be
gone. I am now merely an earthly king, and you will one day be the queen to
take over my rule.”

“Will I play with the thunder like you?”

Father nodded. “With the proper encouragement. I will teach
you, little one.”

“When?” My heart fluttered. I was so eager to play with the
winds.

“Be a child as long as possible, Evie. You’ll have the rest
of your life to rule. When you are ready, the lightning will bow to you as is
your birthright.”

The memory collapsed as a bolt of lightning seared across my
vision. Vesper and Jackie both cried out and covered their eyes. If the ability
to control lightning was my birthright, then never did I need it more.

“Father, help me!” I shouted. Another streak formed in the
sky. I reached for it in my mind—a mind half crazed with fury and fear. I
imagined hurtling the electricity to ship’s deck, right into my captor.

In my last moments of consciousness, the hairs on my arms
and neck rose and stood at attention as static crackled over my skin. An
explosion of sound and light and a concussion of energy knocked me overboard.
The weightless sensation of falling washed over me. Then the blackness of dark
water took me under.

A PRINCESS WITH NO
KINGDOM

Swim, Evie!
The command in my father’s voice was
undeniable. I moaned and bubbles skittered past my face.

My bindings had loosened during my struggle to stay afloat
after falling overboard, and the knife Gideon had lent me was still in my boot.
I managed to grab the blade and cut away the ropes, but the knife slipped from
my fingers before I could return it to its hiding place.

Bits of flotsam from the ship swirled around me, indicating storm
had damaged the
LaDonna
, but not so much that it couldn’t limp away as I
screamed for help in its wake. The pursuing ship had passed by as well,
oblivious to the girl thrashing in the churning waves, struggling to catch her
breath and stay afloat in the raging seas. Fatigue from struggling to keep my
head above water had almost finished me, but at the last desperate moment, a
floating remnant from the
LaDonna
’s deck bumped into my shoulder. I
latched onto it and drifted through the night, but at some point near dawn, I
passed out and lost my grip.

Father’s voice shouted again.
Kick, girl, kick!

I had never disobeyed him before and didn’t intend to start
now. I kicked, thrashed, and managed to break the surface in time to gulp a few
desperate breaths before sinking again. Down, down, I descended as I gathered
the strength and willpower to make another charge for the surface.

When I broke through the second time, I scanned the waters
for my makeshift life raft. Without it, I wouldn’t last long. My arms and legs
screamed with fatigue as I treaded in place and the gentle roll of the waves
dropped me into a trough before slinging me to a high crest. At the wave’s
crest, I kicked and stroked again, ignoring the cramps in my calves, and spun
myself about. Finally, I spied the paltry bit of wood to which I had clung
throughout the night. It floated a few yards away, but to my tired body it felt
like miles. I roused on a last burst of effort and swam close enough to throw
my arm over the shard of floating refuse.

Exhausted and panting for breath, I turned my eyes up to the
heavens, to the pale blue morning and newly risen sun. “When I asked for help,
Father, I’m pretty sure this is not what I meant.”

The day of my watery sojourn passed between bouts of
torturous thirst and merciful unconsciousness. An unrelenting sun beat down, and
I felt like a grape shriveling into a raisin. Late in the afternoon, the shouts
of foreign voices roused me. I raised my head, but my eyes refused to focus. I
ran my dry tongue over my lips and tasted salt on their cracked surface. My
legs had gone numb thanks to the cold water, but a nasty sunburn blazed on my
forearms.
And where in the shadowland is my Thunder Cloak?

“Es una chica!” one higher pitched voice shouted over the
others. The foreign words meant nothing to me, but they sounded like salvation.
“Un momento! Te ayudaremos, de acuerdo?”

The hulking shadow in front of me solidified into the form
of a fishing boat.
Thank you, Father
. My head plopped back onto my arms,
and I waited for the men to haul me on board. With my imminent rescue at hand,
I gave into fatigue and let the men work while I dozed.

I woke again when someone shoved a dipper of water to my
lips. “Beba, señorita.
Beba
.” A short, greasy haired sailor with a gold
earring and pockmarked skin grinned a snaggletooth smile. I obliged and gulped
greedily from my seat on the ship’s deck.

“A little at a time, Madame. You should take it slowly at
first.” My head whipped up at the sound of my native language. A slim man with
long, wispy hair tied back under a smart little cap crouched beside me. He
inclined his head in an informal bow. “It would not do well for you to lose any
more water.”

Relying on his experience in such matters, I took his advice
and slowly sipped three more dippers of water. The foreign sailors returned to
their work, but the man who spoke to me in Inselgrish remained at my side. “Take
your time, Madame, but when you feel your throat is up to the task, I would
appreciate if you could give me an explanation of how you came to be floating
in the middle of the Antellic Ocean?”

“Antellic?” I croaked. “Thought this was... Insel Channel.”

“Oh my. Your story must be a curious one indeed. The mouth
of the Insel Channel is over sixty leagues north of here.”

When he first spoke, I had thought he was an Espiritolan
native like his shipmates, but with a great command of the Inselgrish language.
The more he talked, though, the more I thought he must have been a national of
Inselgrau, but far removed from his homeland. I licked my dry lips and squinted
at him, studying his leathery skin and the images inscribed on his forearms in
faded blue ink. I wondered if should I tell him my name or ask for his help?
What was I risking if I gave away my identity?

“S-sixty leagues?” I stopped and cleared my throat. “How far
is that?” No matter how far a league was, I had floated a long way from my
intended destination. The previous night’s storm must have stirred the currents
into a fury.

The man laughed before he answered. “Nearly two hundred
miles. Why, we are half-way to Espiritola.”

“Espiritola?”

“Yes, yes. Drink up and then we’ll see about getting you
something to eat. You’ll need to keep meat on your bones if you’re to fetch a
favorable price when we get there.”

My stomach lurched, and I spilled some of the precious water
from the dipper. “F-favorable price?”

“At the slave market, miss.” The gray-headed man turned and
glanced toward the back of the ship. “Paulo, Josef, please come see to our
young miss’s security. Oh, and find her something to eat.”

They answered in unison. “Sí, Capítan Alemar.”

I rose from my seat to protest, but hours in the water had
stolen my strength, and the strong sailors easily subdued me. “Please don’t do
this!” I begged as they tied my arms behind my back.

The larger one tossed me over his shoulder and carried me
into the depths of the ship’s hold, which the sailors had molded into a
makeshift prison, and it
stank
. My stomach revolted at the reek of
unwashed bodies and something else, something sour and oily that didn’t bear consideration.

In the dim light, I saw I would spend my captivity with
several other prisoners. Thick wooden rungs composed a collection of
interconnected cages. The cramped cages held only girls as far as I could tell,
all roughly around my age. Some had light colored hair and skin, some were
darker, but one had deep brown skin. Based on illustrations from one of my
father’s almanacs, I thought she might have come from the southernmost content
of Agridan.

She sat in a cell in the rear of the hold, farthest from the
stairway. An intricately twisted and folded scarf covered her head. She wore a
simple shirt with wide sleeves and a long, wide skirt in hues of yellow and red
that stood out against the dimness.

The sailor locked me into an empty cell and disappeared, but
he returned moments later with a knotted bundle containing several hard
biscuits and a piece of dried fish. Our captors had also supplied each tiny
cage with a pail and a small pile of hay, I’d guessed to use for bedding. I had
a guess about what the pail was for, too, but I didn’t care to dwell on it.

The stench of the place had ruined my appetite, so I
pocketed the bundle for later.

The Agridani girl slid closer to me in her cage and stared
at me unapologetically. Finally, she extended a delicate finger and pointed to
herself. “Malita Abiola.” She smiled and it lit up her whole face. She was
possibly the loveliest girl I had ever seen.

I imitated her finger pointing and returned her attempt at a
greeting. In this situation, I supposed I needed all the friends I could get. “Evie,”
I said. “Stormbourne.”

“Evie,” she repeated, and another radiant smile lit her
face.

Her charming grin both intrigued and attracted me. In that
dark place, on her way to a possibly darker future, she managed to find
something to smile about. If I had to suffer this horrible experience, at least
I would have the comfort of an interesting companion.

Malita pointed around the room and introduced the other
girls—seven in all. She knew all their names and where they originated. I was
surprised when she pointed out one slim girl from my own land of Inselgrau.
Some girls looked up and smiled shyly when Malita said their name. Others
ignored us altogether.

She pointed to herself again. “Malita, Nri, Chagda.”

I assumed she meant to tell me the name of her village and
her home country. Nri was a country on the west coast of Agridan. I motioned to
myself again and followed her lead. “Evie, Inselgrau.” I hesitated to give my
village name but figured none of these girls would care about my identity. “Glennich.”

“Evie, Inselgrau, Glennich,” she repeated.

I nodded to confirm her accuracy, and she smiled again. “Malita,
do you know what the pirates are going to do with us?”

Her brows drew down, and she shook her head. She replied in
her home language and held out her hands in an apologetic gesture.

She was obviously smart, and had picked up a lot in her time
in the ship’s hold, but our mutual vocabulary was clearly inadequate. With
enough time, we might have worked out communication with the limited words she
knew, supplemented with pantomime and hand gestures, but I lacked the patience
for it at that moment.
Perhaps I can get something out of the girl from
Inselgrau.

“Um, Jenna? Jenna from Inselgrau, right?” I set my attention
on the thin blond girl in a cage diagonal to mine. She sat cross-legged on the
floor of her cell. Barely in her teen years, judging by the roundness in her
cheeks and chin, she looked up at me, and fear brimmed in her wide eyes. Connecting
with her would be like trying to befriend a skittish kitten. “Jenna, what
village did you say you were from?”

Her lip trembled. “M-Mann.”

I continued in a low, even tone. “Mann? That’s near my
village. About twenty miles west, I guess. Have you ever been to Glennich?”

Jenna shook her head, and her gaze fell to her lap. “How did
you get here?” I asked.

“They sold me.”

“Sold you? Who?”

“Mama and Papa. I got four little brothers and sisters and
Mama was expecting again with no way to feed them all.”

“Your own parents sold you?”

She shrugged, keeping her eyes gaze pinned to the floor. “I
had to work like a slave there, too.”

“Yes, but your work at home did not involve pleasing strange
men.” This came from another girl, one with an accent that sounded Gallandic.

“Pleasing men?” I repeated.

The Gallandic girl’s eyes glittered with hardness. “What else
do they have us for? To be ladies’ maids?”

“But you don’t know for sure?”

“I am only assuming to be sure. It is the result that will
fetch these
corsairs
the highest price.”

“Pirates?” I asked, translating one of the few Gallandic
words I knew. The men on this ship lacked the romance of the pirates in the
tales Father had told me as a child, but it made sense to think of them as
such. I had no better word for privateers operating on the outskirts of the
law.

“I will kill myself before I let some strange man put his
hands on me,” the Gallandic girl swore.

“I’ll save you the trouble if you don’t shut your trap!” Leering
down at us from the ladder leading to the upper levels of the ship, one of the
pirates shook his fist in a threatening gesture before drawing away and
slamming the hatchway closed. Darkness fell like a heavy curtain, and several
girls cried out. Someone began to sob, and judging by the direction of the
sound, I guessed it was Jenna. A warm hand caught my shoulder and swept down my
arm until it reached my wrist.

“Malita?” I whispered.

“Evie.” She clutched my hand. “Evie no cry?”

“No.” I chuckled, but a hitch in my throat caught it and
made it sound like a hiccup. My adventures to this point had helped me develop
a thick skin, and I kept my feelings contained. “Malita no cry?”

She laughed quietly so that only a wisp of sound crossed to
me. “No. Malita no cry.”

The gentle slap of the waves on the hull of the ship acted
as a lullaby, and the ocean’s hypnotic sway overcame my fears and worries. Exhausted
from the day’s long ordeal, I drifted to sleep still holding Malita’s hand.