Redemption (Book 6) (24 page)

Swallowing his sickness, Joseph stumbled across the soaked deck to the stairs.

The three sailors on the quarterdeck were already outfitted in full-length sealskin coats against the slicing rain. The first mate, a squinty-eyed man who had taken over for the wounded captain, was shouting orders in the ear of the helmsman.

Joseph pulled himself up onto the quarterdeck. He wobbled, his stomach fluttering like a moth, but he managed to stand straight. “What’s going on?” he yelled into the howling wind. “Why are we turning?”

The first mate frowned deeply at him. “Go back below!” he shouted over the hammering rain. He waved his arms as if shooing Joseph away. “No passengers at the helm!”

Joseph felt a small explosion of anger inside him. He took an unsteady step forward. Rain dripped from his face and beard, and streamed off his drenched greatcoat. “You’re missing Redemption!”

The scowl on the first mate’s face deepened. He punched a finger towards the east. “Do you see
that
?”

Joseph glanced over the railing.

The sky over the dark land mass of Jothland still burned a dull, angry red.

“That’s war,” the first mate spat. “That’s
death
. I don’t know what’s going on over there, and I don’t care. Whatever it is, it’s bad.” He nodded towards the south. “We’re heading south by southwest. Back to New Marlin, or even Cayman if we have to.”

Joseph stood silent for a moment, stunned. He glanced at the three men on the quarterdeck.

They all glared back at him, their faces sullen and angry.

“Now get off the deck!” the first mate shouted. He thrust a finger towards the hold for emphasis. “Get below.”

Joseph felt a turmoil of emotions inside him.

They could turn away from Redemption, away from Kendril. That would solve everything. There would be no confrontation, no forgiveness required. It wouldn’t even be Joseph’s decision.

And what if Kara’s vision was right, and Kendril
did
die?

Well, what if it was? Wasn’t that what Kendril had always wanted anyways? A sacrificial death for his penance?

“Clear off!” the first mate repeated. He reached for a club that hung on his belt. The hate behind his glare was unmistakable.

The other sailor, the one not at the helm, took a step forward as well. He reached for a fish knife strapped to his hip.

Things were getting ugly quick.

Ever since the incident with the pirates, the sailors of the merchant ship had barely tolerated Joseph and Kara’s presence. Joseph had slept with one eye open, in case the men sought revenge for their wounded captain.

It looked like things had come to that point.

The sailor whipped out the fish knife.

The first mate unhooked his club. “I’m not joking, mate,” he snarled. “Below. Now.”

The ship crashed down into the valley of a storm-tossed wave.

Joseph staggered, trying to keep both his feet and his stomach steady. He was tired and sick to the point of retching all over the quarterdeck.

What did he care if Kendril died? Kara’s nightmare might not even be right after all. And even if it was, what could she actually hope to do against the power of the Void?

The sailor with the knife waved it menacingly at Joseph. “You deaf, mate?
Clear off
.”

Joseph had lost Kara once. He couldn’t lose her again. He
wouldn’t
lose her again.

The sailor spat a curse. He leapt towards Joseph and swiped his knife through the air.

Joseph dodged to one side. He snatched the sailor’s knife arm and tripped him at the same time.

With a startled cry the sailor went over the steep stairs towards the main deck, propelled by Joseph’s push and his own forward momentum.

Joseph spun around. He drew his rapier.

The first mate was already moving forward. The club in his hand was raised to strike.

The merchant ship began to roll upwards, caught on the rising swell of a monstrous wave.

Joseph bit his lip hard against the seething sickness in his gut. He dropped immediately into a fencing stance.

The first mate lashed his club at Joseph’s head.

Joseph thrust with his rapier. The sharp tip jammed through the man’s upraised forearm, cutting through sealskin and flesh like wet paper.

The first mate screamed. The club dropped from his nerveless fingers and rolled on the tilting deck.

The merchant ship dropped suddenly, cascading down into the trough. The whole vessel jolted as the bow slammed against the water. A volcano of white water stormed up from the front of the ship, covering the main deck in a churning mass.

Joseph slammed back against the railing of the quarterdeck. He barely managed to hold onto his rapier. He blinked rain and salt water out of his eyes. Wind howled past his ears like wailing spirits.

The first mate collapsed back against the cabin door. He let out a string of curses, clutching at his wounded arm. Blood dripped steadily onto the deck, mingling with the relentless downpour.

Joseph turned again to the stairs.

The snarling face of the second sailor appeared. His knife was still in his hand.

Joseph kicked the man hard in the face.

The sailor crashed back down to the storm-tossed deck.

“Have you lost your
mind
?” the first mate screamed.

Joseph wheeled around. He swiped the sharp tip of his rapier against the neck of the helmsman. “Turn back to Redemption!” he yelled over the screeching wind. “Or I swear to Eru I’ll run you through.”

The helmsman, both hands on the wheel as he wrestled against the storm, looked over at Joseph in amazement.

The first mate gave a strangled cry of pain, still clutching his wounded arm. “Don’t you understand?” He tilted his head towards the glowering sky in the east. “There’s a bloody
war
going on over there.”

Joseph jabbed the tip of the rapier a little harder against the helmsman’s neck. “That’s right.” He looked over at the first mate. “And my friend’s right in the middle of it. Now turn this Void-cursed ship back around.”

Chapter 14

Redemption was in chaos.

The muddy streets were littered with broken glass, articles of clothing, and abandoned wagons. Shops and buildings were locked and boarded up. Even the temple of Eru had closed its doors. Panicked and screaming people filled the streets and jostled each other along the boardwalks, all fighting to get down to the docks in hope of finding a ship. Fights were breaking out right and left. The sharp whistles of the town guards were going largely unnoticed. Every so often a gunshot hammered out into the night. An occasional body lay sprawled in the filth of the street, evidence of the rampant violence. Lawlessness was in the air.

And towards the east, the sky still throbbed with furnace-like heat. The Jombards were coming. Everyone knew it, and no one wanted to be left in Redemption when the barbarians arrived.

Kendril rode hard through the street that bordered the eastern palisade wall. People scurried right and left across the muddy avenue, some barely getting out of the way of his horse’s thundering hooves. A woman lay by the broken window of a store, weeping loudly and clutching something to her chest. Two men were fist-fighting near the entrance to an alley.

Chaos. Utter and complete chaos.

Kendril pulled his horse up sharply before a shabby tavern that looked as if it had once been a dingy warehouse. He leapt off the horse and tossed the reins to Tomas. “Watch my horse,” he said. “If anyone gets to close, shoot first and ask questions later.”

Tomas gave the run-down building a skeptical glance. “Stopping for a drink?”

Kendril was already half-way to the front door. “Just watch the horse!”

Kendril entered the dimly-lit tavern.

It was a broad, large room, with a make-shift bar, no kitchen, and a weak stove in the corner. Candles burned on the tables. The floor was covered with flax and straw. The whole place reeked of beer, sweat, and vomit.

Kendril wrinkled his nose against the smell as he scanned the dark interior. He moved across the filthy floor towards a table against the wall.

A giant of a man lay over the small table, his head in his arms. He was muttering something under his breath. A flagon of spilled beer rested by his head.

“Beckett!” Kendril shouted. “Attention!”

The massive, red-bearded man lifted his head and blinked his eyes slowly.

“I said
attention
,” Kendril repeated.

Beckett looked around in dazed manner. Then he jumped to his feet, almost knocking over the flimsy table. He stood ramrod straight, teetering a little. His shirt was stained with beer and covered with crumbs. “Sir, yes sir!”

Kendril took a quick look around the nearly empty common room. “I knew I’d find you in this rat-hole, Beckett.” He gave the man a penetrating look. “How drunk are you?”

Beckett continued to stand at attention. “Drunk enough to follow you into battle again, sir!” He grinned broadly.

Kendril smirked and shook his head. “Good enough. Where’s Root?”

“Don’t know, sir.” Beckett nodded towards the door of the tavern. “His farm, maybe. Might still be in town.”

“We need to find him. The other militiamen, too.”

Beckett spat on the flax-covered floor and frowned. “That’ll be hard, sir. Once we were disbanded most of the men left for their homes. They’re probably scattered all over the peninsula by now.”

Another gunshot sounded outside, followed by a woman’s scream.

Kendril instinctively flipped open one of his holsters and snatched the handle of a pistol. He glanced towards the windows that faced out towards the street. He looked back at Beckett. “Things are bad out there. The town guard won’t be enough to man the walls of Redemption.”

Beckett leaned back against the table. He brushed a hand through his beard and released an avalanche of bread crumbs. “”What about the dragoons, sir?”

Kendril gave a quick shake of his head. “That fool Yearling’s got them pulled back to Stockade.”

Beckett whistled softly. “That’ll get worse before it gets better, sir.”

Kendril nodded somberly, his eyes back on the windows. “It’ll get worse
here
before it gets better. Without the dragoons or the militia Redemption doesn’t stand a chance.” He turned back to Beckett. “You sober enough to ride?”

Beckett blinked glazed eyes and nodded his head. “Sober as a judge, sir.”

Kendril sighed. “It’ll have to do.” He put a hand on Beckett’s shoulder. “I need you to rally the militia. Find Root if you can. Get every able-bodied man to the market square.”

Beckett scowled. “They stockpiled our weapons, sir. All of it’s still at Stockade.”

Kendril nodded. “I know. Grab whatever you can. Swords, hunting rifles. Axes and pitchforks if we have to. I know a lot of the men have weapons of their own.”

Beckett gave a discerning nod. “A few of the men have their own armor too, sir, though most of it is old and rusted. Nothing as good as
that
.” He glanced down at Kendril’s steel cuirass.

“Look, Beckett,” Kendril said in a low voice, glancing around to ensure that no one else was in the tavern to hear. “This is as bad as it’s ever been. I need you to move like the wind. You’ve got an hour at most, probably less.”

“You can count on me, sir.”

“Focus on anyone who has a horse first. Get them assembled in the square. You’ve got one hour, then we’re going with whoever and whatever we have.” Kendril grabbed a half-full mug of beer off the table and drained it. He slammed the empty mug back. “Eru, I needed that.”

Beckett grinned. “Time like this, sir, it’s better to be a bit buzzed.”

Kendril wiped the sleeve of his buff coat across his mouth, then nodded. “One hour, Beckett, then we ride.”

Beckett squinted. “Where to, sir?”

“Stockade,” Kendril said over his shoulder. He was already moving to the door. “To get whatever poor devils out of there that we can.”

Beckett stumbled after Kendril, barely avoiding a chair that was in his way.

“Don’t forget,” Kendril said as he pushed open the tavern door, “get Root first if you can. Don’t—”

He stopped mid-sentence.

In the middle of the street were a half-dozen men in the red and white livery of the town guard. Each wore a steel skull cap helmet, and carried broad-bladed glaives. They lowered the weapons menacingly at Kendril and Beckett as they emerged from the tavern.

Behind them, mounted on a magnificent gray horse, was Lord Blackstone. He leered down at Kendril and Beckett, a look of sinister triumph on his face.

“Blackstone!” Kendril seethed. He took a step forward. “Talin’s ashes, what are you—?”

“Sergeant,” Blackstone said, his voice carrying up and down the street. “Arrest both of these men.”

Kara awoke with a start. She sat up on the hard cot, rubbing her eyes and pushing the sleep away.

She was still fully dressed. How long had she been asleep? It was only supposed to be an hour or so until they reached Redemption.

Wind whistled outside the hull of the ship, and rain hammered relentlessly against the wood. Thunder rumbled somewhere up in the distance.

Kara snatched up her bow and quiver of arrows, ignoring the dull throb in her chest at the movement.

Where was Joseph?

Kara shook her head fiercely, fighting off the last cobwebs of sleep. She hadn’t intended to fall asleep at all. She was so tired. Most nights she barely slept, and whenever she did, the nightmares would inevitably come.

The ship bumped and scraped against something. Yells and shouts came from outside.

The wild movement of the sea was gone. It seemed as if they were in port.

Kara jumped up and moved to the stairs.

The deck of the ship was slippery and wet from rain and sea water. Wind whipped wildly across the surface of the deck, and a drenching rain punched down out of the black sky.

Kara glanced around for Joseph, but didn’t see him on the main deck. She moved to the railing.

The merchant ship was in the harbor of Redemption. A short distance away were the docks that connected to the rocky shore. A walled causeway led from the scattered warehouses and shacks along the waterfront up to a hill overlooking the harbor.