Remnants: Season of Fire (2 page)

I smiled. It galled Vidar that his knight, Bellona, was better at such things than he, and I could almost hear the stifled wisecrack forming in his mind now.

He was nearing the top, and I held my breath as his dark form disappeared against the broad side of the ship. “C’mon, Vidar,” I whispered.

I could hear Tressa and Chaza’el praying, probably a much better use of energy. But I couldn’t bring my mind to anything but staring as hard as I could, trying to discern one shadow from the other.

There
, I thought, watching a lump slide over the edge of the rail. Shortly afterward I saw Bellona lift herself up and over in a far more graceful manner. But they were both aboard.

I smiled and dared to take a breath. “They’re on,” I whispered, and felt the others’ relief meld with my own.

Then there were sounds of a fight — gasps and groans that carried across the water — and we all waited through long, slow seconds for an alarm whistle or sailors to come running to the aid of those who were attacked. But none came.

“They’ll call us in a moment,” Chaza’el whispered, a second before Vidar whistled lowly.

A shiver ran down my back. “Are you going to be doing that a lot?” I whispered back to him.

He smiled without showing his teeth. “If the Maker is generous with what he allows me to see.” He turned to follow Tressa and Killian, and I trailed them through the maze of crates, staying low as they were. Before leaving the relative safety of each row of crates, we paused, made sure we were clear, then scurried to the next bank of them. Ronan brought up the rear.

Killian, Tressa, and Chaza’el took to the rope without hesitation, and I was getting ready to leap from the tar-covered wood to the rope next, when Ronan grabbed my arm and yanked me to the side and down.

The hair on my neck stood on end as I realized my armband had grown cold.

I’d been so focused on the Ailith that led us . . . I’d missed that there were Sheolites nearby.

“How?” I whispered. Ronan hovered over me, his face an inch from mine. We both stared in the same direction, to an opening between the crates. “How’d they know we were here?”

“Maybe they didn’t until now,” he whispered back. “If the Maker smiles, they won’t. C’mon.” He grabbed my hand and led me, hunched over, away from the ship, and I saw what he was doing. If we couldn’t join our fellow Ailith, we’d either distract our enemies with a chase or hide again.

The moon disappeared behind a bank of clouds and the dockyard became twice as eerie. I could barely see anything ahead of us and couldn’t imagine how Ronan knew where to go. Maybe he was feeling his way forward.

I nervously glanced down each aisle we passed, my eyes wide and straining in the pitch-dark. I glimpsed the ship, with new lanterns glowing beside her, illuminating her prow. But there had been no soldiers or Sheolites near her. “Ronan,” I panted, feeling my arm cuff turn from the chill of warning to the painful icy cold that demanded I flee, or prepare to fight.

“I know,” he said, turning to face me. His words came out strangled. He pulled me to the next corner. “You keep looking left. Draw your dagger.” Then he stood in front of me and slowly withdrew his sword, trying to remove it silently from its scabbard. I knew he’d be watching the aisle in front of us and to the right.

The flesh around my armband ached with the numbing cold. Only one person had made it this frigid before.

“Sethos,” I whispered, the name distant to my own ears.

The moon emerged from the drifting clouds and Ronan and I both heard the low laugh of the man. I peered over
Ronan’s shoulder as my knight moved into a defensive position. All we could see was the dark robe and hood, Sethos’s face hidden in shadow.

“To the left,” I grunted, seeing the two scouts, one carrying a lantern.

“And to the right,” returned Ronan. I knew there were others, behind us, without looking.

Sethos laughed again and tugged on a glove, as if straightening it. “Come, Ailith. You are surrounded. Surrender your blades and accompany us. The emperor seeks to speak with you. He intends you no harm. At least not yet.”

He dared to walk right up to the point of Ronan’s blade, his hands outstretched, as if approaching in peace. I saw teeth flash in a smile, though I still could not see his eyes hidden beneath the hood.

“I should end you now,” Ronan growled.

“You realize it would only result in your own death,” Sethos said in bored tone.

“At least I’d die satisfied, knowing that I took you with me.”

I glanced nervously from one side to the other, seeing the others were steadily closing in. Those with the lanterns set them down, and edged nearer, swords drawn. Was Ronan really intent on fighting our way out of here? Would it even be possible?

“You’d risk your own life, yes,” Sethos said, his hooded head shifting as if he was looking me over. “But you won’t risk hers. Bring them,” he sniffed, turning in an assuming whirl of red fabric and striding away from us.

Ronan glanced over his shoulder at me, a knot of agitation and grudging defeat. “It’s all right,” I said, putting a hand on
his shoulder. “We will fight another day. For now, we must try other methods.”

Slowly, he crouched and laid his sword on the ground. The Sheolites had their hands on us in seconds, one grabbing my wrist and slamming it against the crate to force me to drop my dagger. He then roughly turned me around, put my hands against the crate, and methodically searched my body for other weapons. There was no lust in him, only single-minded duty. He set one dagger after another on the crate by my left hand, then yanked me to the right, handing me to two others. They each grabbed hold of an arm and rushed me forward. Sethos had already reached the end of the crates ahead of us, his form a dark silhouette backlit by another lamp.

Madly, I thought through one move after another that could take both my guards down. But I knew it would be a short-lived victory. Others would catch us again in a few paces. The only way to get through this was to face Keallach. I could see him standing beside Sethos in a clearing at the edge of the yard. There were twenty or more guards around them, and my last vestiges of hopeful escape disappeared.

“Andriana,” Keallach said softly, as we appeared before him. Four men stood with oil-burning lamps on rods in intervals around us. “And Ronan.”

We remained silent.

“I am glad to see you alive,” Keallach tried again with a tentative smile.

I reached out to search him, and knew truth in him. He was genuinely glad. It took me aback.

“We didn’t know if you’d died in the desert or in the mountains. There are still men out there, trying to find you. We lost your trail. But I feared the worst.”

The worst? What was worse than Keallach’s minions capturing us?

“Where are your companions?” he asked.

“For all we know, they are dead,” Ronan said.

“I doubt that,” Sethos said, pulling back his hood. His long, dark hair was in a braid, as all Sheolites wore it. He turned to four scouts in red behind him. “Search all quadrants of the docks. Quickly.”

“It surprised us, when I sensed you here, tonight,” Keallach said quietly. “What brought you here?”

“We sought an escape from Pacifica,” I pretended to admit, stalling for time, hoping our companions were safely hidden aboard the
Far North
, and the Sheolites would not think to search the vessel.

“To where?” Keallach asked wryly, lifting one brow. “The far off countries are in no better shape than our own, though we are working on assisting them. If you’d like to book passage, I’d be more than happy to help you.” He stepped closer to me, his keen green eyes searching mine.

“You didn’t seem anxious to help us last time we met,” I said.

He frowned, as if troubled. “My men . . . are very protective of me. Especially in the sanctuary. They thought the Ailith presented a mortal danger to my life.”

“So they very nearly took ours. They may have even killed some of our brothers and sisters.”

“No,” Keallach said. “None of the Ailith have been captured or killed. You have my word.”

“I find it difficult to believe,” Sethos said, bringing a hand to his chin, “that if your mind was on escape, you wouldn't flee
back to your precious Valley. If you thought the emperor your enemy, why make your way deeper into his territory?”

“Have you ever crossed the Great Expanse on foot?” Ronan grunted. “We’re not anxious to do that again.”

I dared to look Keallach’s way. I detected no malice in him. Only curiosity. Longing. Hope. It was so obvious in contrast with Sethos’s seething hatred. Even Keallach’s small niceties toward us were agitating the dark master.

“I suspect,” Keallach said, glancing down to his boot and kicking at a clump of grass growing among rotting, tar-laced boards, “that you didn’t intend to board a ship bound across the sea.” His eyes moved again to meet mine, and I fought the urge to shift nervously. “I suspect you were instead trying to board this ship to Catal,” he said, nodding behind me.

“Catal?” I asked, feigning ignorance.

The hint of a smile teased the corners of his full lips. “Catal, the island prison. Where my brother Kapriel is held.”

I tried to swallow, but my mouth was dry. I stared back at him for a long moment, deciding.

“Yes,” Ronan broke in. “We wanted to see Kapriel.”

“And free him?” he asked, cocking his head. I felt the arrow of pain, of betrayal, when he thought of his brother. Why could I read him so well tonight when I could not in Wadi Qelt? It was as if he’d decided to let me in. He looked away from us, to the side, to the sea, glittering in the moonlight.

“Possibly,” I said, knowing that saying anything else would be a known lie. The men all around us erupted in jeering laughter but Keallach’s face remained sober.

“I can allow you to see Kapriel,” he said softly to me, his tone edged in pain. “But you will spend the journey, to and
from, in my cabin so that you can hear what I have to say too. And when we leave Catal, Kapriel will remain behind us.”

“I don’t think —” Ronan began.

“I don’t think you are in any position to negotiate, Knight,” Keallach interrupted, with a flick of his fingers. All along, he kept his eyes on me. “Do we have a deal, Andriana?”

I sighed, contemplating our options. Really, we had none. And perhaps if Ronan and I distracted these men, they wouldn’t search the
Far North
for our companions. Perhaps this was all in the Maker’s design . . . the perfect distraction for our enemy.

The word stuck in my mind. Despite what had happened at the winter palace, Keallach didn’t feel like an enemy. Not really. He was surrounded by the fallen, chiefly the loathsome Sethos, but maybe I could reach him, influence him. Each of the brothers, Kapriel and Keallach, was a force — I’d gathered that much. But together?

With both of them on our side, the Ailith would be unstoppable.

CHAPTER
2

ANDRIANA

W
e walked up a steep plank to board the
Far North
, and I fought to keep my eyes from looking at the rope that tethered the ship to the dock, then nervously around the deck, for the other Ailith. Where had they hidden themselves? Were they safe? Or had they been captured? Did Keallach and Sethos sense them, as they had us? And how were we going to get out of this mess?

One step at a time, Dri
, I told myself, trying to calm my fluttering heart.
One step at a time.

Just as Keallach led me into the captain’s cabin, I thought I saw a female sailor in the gray Pacifican soldier’s uniform, sporting a long braid that looked suspiciously like Bellona’s, but I didn’t dare look again, for fear of exposing her. When the Sheolite scouts had returned with nothing to report, Sethos had peered over the dockyard one more time, scowling
suspiciously, and then seemed to decide that Ronan and I had indeed set off on this mission alone. But where had our friends stashed the bodies of those they’d overtaken? Were they soon to be discovered?

The two guards who still held my arms jostled me left, then right, heading toward the captain’s cabin. They let me go as we were forced to climb single file up a narrow, steep set of steps, and I looked back to make sure Ronan was behind us. I took a deep breath as I saw him crest the stairs too, then saw that the door to the captain’s cabin was open. Warm light poured out toward us in welcome, and I could hear the crack of firewood burning in a small stove. There was a couch that looked brand new against the far wall and to the right —

The door abruptly closed behind me, and I glanced back to see a burly Sheolite guard, arms folded, in front of it. Outside, I heard Ronan cry out, the sounds of a scuffle, then silence. I took a step toward the door, but Keallach’s hand grabbed my shoulder. “Andriana —”

I whirled again to face him, fists up in preparation to fight.

“Take your ease,” he said lifting his hands, palms up. “Your knight has been detained, solely so you and I can speak in private, for once.” He nodded at me slowly. “I gave
you
permission to visit Kapriel,
not
a Knight of the Last Order. And something tells me that if I have Ronan within my grasp, you won’t wander far. Am I right?”

He gave me that teasing, knowing grin again, head half-cocked. I was furious with him and yet grudgingly understood. If I were in his shoes, would I not do the same thing? My cheeks grew warm, flushing in embarrassment that he’d been able to tell there was something more than Knight-Remnant
connection between Ronan and me. I ignored it, lifting my chin and folding my arms. “You will not harm him?”

He shook his head. “Nothing more than it takes to keep him apart from you for a while. If he’s as smart as he is strong, he’ll see the likelihood of that soon enough.”

“Where will you hold him?”

“Belowdecks.”

“In chains?”

“Not unless it’s absolutely necessary.” He moved over to a table and poured two goblets full of wine, then brought one back to me. I wasn’t partial to the red liquid, but my mouth was terribly dry, so I drank just a bit to ease my discomfort, then set it aside.