Storm of Sharks (35 page)

‘Fear?’ whispered the
Staglord.

‘Formidable though the Ugri are, it is
not my army that they fear,’ said Hector sheepishly. ‘It’s me that
they’re afraid of.’

‘You?’ exclaimed Manfred
incredulously. ‘I saw your little
magic trick, throttling poor
Bethwyn beyond the Strakenberg Gate. That’s what they’re afraid
of?’

‘A little more than that, Your Grace.
Lord Flint has witnessed at first hand my command over the dead. He’s seen me
commune and hold thrall over the risen. He now wonders if the power can be used as a
weapon. He spoke of using my necromancy in the field.’

‘In the field?’ said Carver,
rising with the help of Ibal, the Thief Lord throwing his waddling jailer a hard
stare.

‘The dead,’ chimed in Ringlin
nervously. ‘Flint reckons that the bodies beyond the wall can serve a further
purpose against any who try to invade Icegarden. Baron Hector’s said before now
that the Wyrmstaff might help him achieve this aim, such is the power it
harnesses.’

Manfred looked confused at the mention of
the ancient staff, but a quick word from Carver soon set him straight.

‘It’s some relic from
yesteryear, this Wyrmstaff. That’s if it exists at all. It supposedly magnifies a
magister’s strength, channelling his power to greater effect.’ He smiled at
Hector as he rubbed his wrists. ‘See, I
was
paying attention to your
addled ramblings, Blackhand.’

‘I can’t
remember – nor do I care to recall – what rants I’ve made you
endure, Carver,’ said a shamefaced Hector. ‘I only pray that my future
actions show me in a better light and prove to you that there’s still a good soul
in here.’

Hector tapped his breast with the fingers of
his withered hand, his eyes lingering upon the black, blistered flesh. The pain in his
chest where the Staglord’s tine had punctured his lung was hard to ignore, but he
tried to push it from his
mind. He’d see to his wounds once
he’d set things right.

‘The Crows will bide their time before
striking when you’re at your weakest,’ warned Carver, ignoring the
Boarlord’s overtures. ‘I’ve watched in the passing months how
you’ve wasted away, Blackhand, shrinking into yourself, obsessed as you are with
that accursed staff. They’ll have been watching too, waiting for their
opportunity. Looking at you now, before us, that could be at any moment.’

‘How can you be sure the Crows
won’t strike?’ Manfred asked.

‘They ain’t here at the moment,
although their army from Riven mans the walls,’ said Ringlin. ‘The Crows
have been sparring with the Cranelords from Bast for days on end. But they’ll be
back any day now. And they’ll want
you
when they get here, Duke
Manfred,’ the rogue added with a crooked smile. ‘Flint’s been banging
on about capturing you for months now. Sounds like the Crows are none too fond of the
Stags.’

‘Do you trust your Boarguard?’
said Manfred, glaring warily at Ringlin.

‘All of them,’ said Hector.
‘The Ugri are sworn to me by blood since I killed their old mistress, Queen
Slotha.’

‘So what you’re saying,’
said Carver, ‘is if someone were to kill the leader of the Ugri, they would
instantly inherit an army?’

Carver left it hanging there, the
implication obvious to all. Should Flint strike now and slay Hector, he would have the
city and the Ugri nation at his back.

‘And where is this army now?’
asked the Thief Lord.

Hector scratched his jaw. ‘Mostly
beyond the walls. The
Ugri are superstitious about the White
Bear’s city – they’re happier camping in the mountains. Some, such
as Two Axes and the Creep, remain within the palace, close by should I need them. But
the city is patrolled by the soldiers from Riven.’

‘And the Wyrmstaff?’ enquired
Manfred. ‘What of it?’

Hector took a breath. ‘I’ve
stopped looking for it, Your Grace. Let it remain hidden as the Daughters of Icegarden
always wished. Clearly it’s too dangerous to ever leave the
Strakenberg.’

‘So what’s your plan?’
said Carver. ‘How do you free your prisoners without raising the suspicion of the
soldiers from Riven? They man the walls, do they not? I can’t see them standing by
while you march your prisoners out of the Strakenberg Gate.’

‘There’s another way out of the
city,’ said Ringlin. ‘The miners and smiths know it well enough, an old road
beneath the mountain that’ll lead you into the Whitepeaks beyond. It’s not
been used in our lifetime, but it should still serve its purpose.’

While Ringlin and Carver put aside their
differences to discuss the escape route, Manfred stepped forward and placed a firm hand
on Hector’s shoulder.

‘You know, this is a new beginning for
you, Hector. You can start again, put the madness and mayhem behind you.’

‘The magistry as well, Your Grace. I
can’t go near it. Never again.’

‘Don’t be so quick to dismiss
it, my boy. Your powers can still be used as a force for good –’

‘Not as a magister,’ said Hector,
shaking his head. ‘The temptation’s too great. I mustn’t even toy with
the idea. I’ll heal with herbs and bandages from now on, but no cantrips and
magicks; I daren’t even dabble.’

Manfred nodded. ‘Nobody knows better
than you the grip it had on you.’

‘I was seduced, Manfred. Totally.
Haunted by my own brother’s phantom, I allowed myself to be dragged into darkness.
I can see and hear the spirits of the dead – though the good souls move on,
the wicked ones linger in the form of viles, malevolent spectres that shadow dark
magisters. Vincent was one such monster.’

‘You fear he’ll return, that
your torment at your brother’s hands isn’t over?’

‘No.’ Hector smiled wearily.
‘He’s gone. But I can never allow myself to be seduced by the dark arts
again.’

‘Well, you have your friends back,
Hector, and with your blessing, I’ll be keeping an eye on you like a Hawklord
henceforth. If I see you so much as mutter a word of magick, I’ll crack your
skull, right?’ Manfred’s smile hardened, a sincere look of concern etching
his grey face. ‘No harm shall come to you on my watch, Hector, as Brenn is my
witness.’

The two men hugged, their heartfelt reunion
complete. They turned to the rogues in time to see Ringlin handing Carver one of his
long knives, Ibal giggling nervously beside them.

‘Try not to stick it in my
back,’ said the Boarguard through clenched teeth.

‘What? Like you did to me at the South
Gate not so long
ago? Relax, Ringlin,’ said Carver, his eyes
narrowed. ‘We’re all turning over a new leaf here.’

‘We’re to leave right
away?’ asked Manfred.

‘I’ll need you to help Ringlin
and Ibal free the rest of the prisoners,’ said Hector. ‘Lady Bethwyn is with
the Daughters of Icegarden close by. Two Axes watches over Duchess Freya. I’ll
fetch her myself; I owe the duchess a great many apologies. But there’s no reason
to linger here – as soon as you’ve got people moving, you should
accompany them, my lords. Who knows what awaits them on the road beneath the
mountain?’

‘And you?’ said Manfred.
‘You’ll be coming too?’

‘Indeed,’ said Hector.
‘I’ll gather my belongings and come through last of all with Ringlin and
Ibal. I need to call at the Chapel of Brenn. Pick up the queen’s
body …’

He sighed, the Vincent-vile having been
replaced by shame and misery, shadowing his every move. ‘I won’t leave her
here, alone. Ringlin and Ibal can help me carry her out and perhaps I can reunite her
with Drew one day.’

‘Perhaps,’ said Manfred
ruefully, stroking the whiskers on his lip.

‘Are you truly finished with your dark
magistry, Blackhand?’ asked the Thief Lord, turning the borrowed long knife in his
palm. ‘How do we know this isn’t a trick?’

‘That part of me’s dead, I swear
upon the lives of all those I find dear, and there are yet many. And Carver,’ he
added, staring in revulsion at his twisted limb, ‘my name’s
Hector.’

‘Oh, Vega, I could kiss you!’
cried Baron Bosa, sloshing his goblet in the air before the Sharklord.

‘A toast will do just fine, old
friend,’ said the count politely, placing a firm hand upon the Whalelord’s
shoulder. He grabbed a chalice from the passing tray as the ship’s cook circuited
the forecastle of the
Nemesis
. The other captains of the fleet joined him,
fully twenty of them celebrating the good news.

‘A toast to all, in fact, and the good
fortune Sosha blesses us with!’

Bosa raised his goblet aloft as the others
followed suit.

‘To the Wolf!’ shouted Captain
Ransome, his words echoed by his fellows.

Drew smiled at the cheering sea captains,
their spirits now soaring after being low for so long. Whitley stood across from him and
managed a smile, raising her cup. He nodded back.

‘I still don’t see how you finally
persuaded Opal to give up her secrets, Vega,’ said Drew, glancing over the
shoulders of a group of captains who were gathered around a collection of scrolls. Each
bore the scrawled handwriting of the Sharklord, with lists of vessel names, thumbnail
maps and a definitive code for flag flying. Here was everything their ships needed to be
able to sail into Scorpio’s fleet undetected.

‘Yes, Vega,’ said Whitley.
‘Tell us, how did you do it?’

‘I discovered something of value to
her, my lady,’ he said. ‘Something that would provide us with leverage. The
scrolls you see before you: trust me when I tell you their contents are genuine.
There’s no way on Sosha’s blue sea that she’s lied to us.’

‘But how can you be sure?’ asked
Ransome.

‘Take my word for it, she risks too
much to have lied to us. We have all we need right here.’

‘So Opal’s outlived her
usefulness,’ said Bosa. ‘A shame. I was warming to her charming
threats.’

‘She no doubt still has information
that will be of use to us,’ said Vega. ‘Her knowledge of the Catlord
armada’s just the tip of the iceberg. There are more secrets to be extracted from
the Beauty of Bast’s exquisite head yet.’

‘I don’t like the idea of our
keeping hold of her,’ said Ransome. ‘The men aboard the
Nemesis
fear her, and rightly so, regardless of her imprisonment.’

‘Worry not. I’ve room aboard the
Maelstrom
for the Catlady if it puts your mind at ease. As it is me she has
this … understanding with, it’s only right she remains in my custody.
We’ll transfer her as soon as it’s convenient.’

Another round of toasts went up from the
captains, as goblets and jugs were refilled. Similar noises floated across the water
from the other ships as the word spread that they’d broken the Bastian codes. Drew
stepped up to Vega as the Sharklord swigged from his cup.

‘What did you do, Vega, to buy her
secrets?’

‘My dear Drew, if it’s all right
with you I’d rather you didn’t know.’

‘I’d just hate to think she was
tricking us, Vega,’ Drew whispered, keeping his voice out of earshot of their
companions. ‘What if she’s playing you, and we’re sailing into a
trap?’

‘She wouldn’t dream of lying to
me, my boy. Not now that she knows what’s at stake.’

Drew shivered, trying to imagine what kind
of deal the Shark had struck with the Panther.

‘Don’t worry about it,’
continued Vega. ‘If I were you I’d be more concerned about getting back into
dear Whitley’s favour.’

‘She won’t listen to me,
Vega.’

‘It’s complicated, my boy. She
thinks an awful lot of you. Surely you understand how she feels?’

Drew stared at Vega vacantly, as the
Sharklord laughed.

‘Good grief, I know you grew up on the
Cold Coast, but surely you had
some
dealings with the fairer sex in your
childhood. It can’t all have been sheep and snow on your father’s
farm!’

Drew’s mouth was dry, his heart
quickening as Vega chortled. He’d known since he and Whitley had travelled south
to the Longridings just what the girl meant to him. They’d
endured much together, side by side, only to be torn apart. Time with the Bearlady
should have been precious to him, but he felt he’d taken her for granted,
preoccupied with the wider world. The war, the politics, the people of Lyssia: all had
taken precedence over his relationship with Whitley.

‘Whatever you feel for her, lad, just
tell her,’ Vega whispered. ‘Don’t bottle it up, or you may never get
the chance. Don’t have the regrets that I have over a lost love.’

Drew nodded. ‘I’ll speak with
her right now.’

‘Good man. And remember: she’ll
be hurting still, so go easy.’

The young Wolflord looked across the crowded
deck for his friend, finding no sign of her.

‘Where is she?’

‘She was here a moment ago,’
replied Vega, looking past the other to the spot she’d vacated.

Drew was already walking away, in the
direction of the hatch that led below. As he neared the open doorway, his stride
lengthened. By the time he reached the staircase, he was running.