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Chapter LXXXI : Abduction
Latenight of Primoris, Thirtieth Day of Autumnmoon
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Józef brooded over how easily he had fallen into Hans Unruh’s trap. No one loyal to the Brandt family—or to Kitezh—would have mutinied against him, murdered his guardians, and locked him in his own cabin. He was a prisoner, more than a hundred leagues from the nearest port and surrounded by frigid ocean. He had little hope of escape.
His captors were well-seasoned cutthroats. He wasn’t smart enough to outwit them, nor strong enough to overpower them. Two guarded the door at all times. They avoided contact, except to deliver meals and clean water. If he asked, they granted him the courtesy of a trip to the head, but they kept a close eye, even as he did his business.
It felt humiliating. He should have seen it coming. Looking back at Hans’ behavior made it even more obvious. Hans might have been a good strategist, but he was too ambitious and often critical of the throne. Henrich usually encouraged criticism, and he took it quite well. But displeasure and disloyalty were not the same thing. Henrich kept his men happy, but he never let them think he was soft. And he always kept a watchful eye on those he didn’t trust. Józef should have done the same, but he never paid attention to these kinds of things. It was yet another reason why he’d never be as good a ruler as his father.
Understanding Hans’ motive was one thing, but the usurper couldn’t have pulled off a kidnapping without help. Had any of the Ministry learned of it, Hans would have become an enemy of the state, and the king’s guard would have hunted him down and tracked Józef’s location. The laws made it quite clear who was the rightful heir, and these weren’t easy to change.
He must have figured his best shot was to make it look like Józef had died. This would force the Ministry to search for a new heir through the Order of Succession. If Hans managed to win the Ministry’s confidence, he’d nominate himself as King Pro Tempore and rule in the meantime. Of course, for his plan to work, Józef would need to disappear permanently. And the only reason not to kill him off the bat was because he held too many of the Brandt family secrets. Józef knew those were his only real leverage. If he were to reveal them, he’d no longer have any value alive.
He could guess where Hans’ thugs were taking him. The ship had gone on a northern course ever since the mutiny, taking it deep into the polar regions. He knew of a prison there, which contained the country’s most dangerous and ruthless criminals. If they locked him behind those impenetrable walls, he’d never see his homeland again.
Besides the fear of an unjust, lifelong sentence, he couldn’t shake the overwhelming guilt for having failed the last of his companions. Konrad had provided him with a very capable handpicked crew, but not a single one was still alive. Most had died at the battle of Loulan, but the last two were at the bottom of the ocean, killed in their sleep. Józef wanted their sacrifice to mean something, but he was a disgraced coward, who succumbed too easily to his captors. He’d never be able to avenge the ones who died for him.
He was the heir to an entire country. He thought he could build alliances that would take on the Ahrimen. But he couldn’t even protect himself from a bunch of ruffians. Had he been more careful, he would have looked into the sailors before boarding their ship. Instead, he relied on their word and good faith alone. Had Henrich been alive, he would have been ashamed.
It was difficult, but Józef knew he had to think straight and stop feeling sorry for himself. His only chance to break free had to be before reaching the destination. While enroute, his captors let him wander free around the cabin. They could have kept him bound or gagged, but they likely saw him as no threat.
Unfortunately, he had no plan. He needed a weapon and an escape route. Even if he improvised the first of these, he couldn’t take on the whole crew, and the ruckus of attacking one with a bedpost or chair would easily draw the others. If he managed to sneak out, the lifeboats were under close supervision. Even if he successfully stole one and escaped without notice, rowing a dinghy across leagues of frigid waters had practically no chance of survival. He was stuck.
Nevertheless, he couldn’t sit idle. His homeland was in danger. Even if he wasn’t king, he still needed to warn his people about the Ahrimen and Angkor’s newfound powers. He racked his brain looking for answers. He was angry and disheartened, when the ship jerked to a sudden stop. It was unusual. Something must have happened.
Moments later, the doors burst open and a man rushed in and threw a heavy fleece coat on Józef’s lap. “Put it on. Quickly.”
A shiver ran up his spine. “It’s latenight. What’s wrong? Where are you taking me?”
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The man picked up the coat and shoved it against Józef’s chest. “Do as I say!”
He obeyed. There was little else he could do.
“Now, follow an’ stay close. Stray just a little, and I’ll belt yur jaw. Hear me?”
Józef nodded meekly. Something was very wrong.
The man led him on deck, where a bunch of sailors were clustered around one of the lifeboats. It looked prepped and ready to depart, but leaving the ship was crazy! Except for a thin crescent moon and a few stars, there was no visibility. The night was pitch dark, and there wasn’t any land for leagues in any direction.
The sailor pointed. “Git on.”
Two men were already inside, and another stood ready to lower the boat.
“What’s happen—?”
“Shut up!”
The man spoke in a fierce whisper. “Keep yur mouth shut an’ stay quiet. Yur life depends on it.”
Józef was too scared to argue. As he climbed aboard, a small flurry of snowflakes drifted down upon him. He couldn’t help but think of the first snowfall at Rungholt Castle, when his father took handfuls of snow and threw it at him playfully. He missed his father so much. He almost teared up.
The lifeboat hit water, violently shaking him from his reverie. The sailors rowed, leaving the ship and their companions behind. Józef felt vulnerable and alone, wondering where these men were taking him. He kept a steady gaze, half-expecting them to pull a knife, slit his throat, and dump his body overboard.
He shivered uncontrollably. Not from the cold, since the fleece kept him warm enough. His nerves, however, had frayed so much his whole body shook.
“Ar-are ya-you going to kill me?”
One of the men responded in a low voice. “No. We detected another ship. It followed us for ‘bout an hour. Pirates.”
Józef cringed. He had only heard tales of these lawless men, who made a living out of looting ships in the Glacial Ocean. They were infamously fierce and bloodthirsty. Most convoys traveled with weapons and mercenaries, and Józef supposed his ship could withstand an assault, if it came to that. Nevertheless, given his value as heir, he assumed Hans’ men took extra precautions.
The sailor explained. “The ship’s gonna lure ‘em away while we lay low. There’s an uncharted isle, not far from here. But let me be clear. They‘ll slit our throats if they catch us. So if ya cause a scene or draw their attention, we’ll silence you under icy water. Hear what I’m sayin’?”
Józef nodded as he huddled like a small egg in the bed of the dinghy. Cold air blew against his face, turning his breath into a warm mist. He wouldn’t dare yell out; and he couldn’t, even if he wanted. It took all his mental energy, just to keep his fear under control and his body from getting seasick.
One of the sailors stopped rowing. “Wait! Do ya hear that?”
Both men stood perfectly still. It was as faint as a falling leaf, but Józef detected another ship, approaching in the blackness of night.
“Goddess’ curse! How’d they find us?”
The men took up their oars and rowed as fast as they could. Their muscles bulged and sweat beaded on their foreheads. Nevertheless, the sound of the approaching ship grew more pronounced.
The rowers threw down their oars, since it was obvious they couldn’t outrun their pursuers. One of them reached inside his coat and pulled out a Kitezhian firearm. He stood up and pointed it at the darkness. He waited until the dim starlight exposed the faint outline of a ship. He squinted, aimed, and fired.
An ear-splitting blast rang out into the night. For a moment, Józef wondered if the shot found its mark. But then, someone from inside the darkness fired back. The sailor clutched a wound in his chest, gurgled faintly, and stumbled overboard.
Józef felt an icy cold spray. He crouched low, hoping to hide behind the lip of the dinghy. The other sailor readied his own firearm and fired a second shot. Shortly after, a fourth shot returned, narrowly missing its target. Instead, it blew a hole through the dinghy, causing it to take on water.
Józef backed away from the hole, noting the look of panic on the sailor to his side. The man’s eyes bulged as he desperately fumbled through coat pockets, looking for bullets and powder. As he worked to reload, the starlight exposed the pirate’s brig in greater detail. It was a small ship, but likely fast and equipped with the latest weaponry. Six men leaned over the railing with firearms aimed and ready.
The sailor must have realized he wouldn’t have his weapon ready, so he drew his sword. It was a hopeless attempt, and the pirates opened fire. The sailor’s blood gushed from several bullet wounds as he fell back, filling the boat with frigid water.
Józef was already soaked, and he knew he had moments to live before his boat sank. It felt like a thousand shards of glass slicing through his flesh. The men on the brig already had their weapons trained on his position. All he could do was hold up his hands and beg for his life.
“Please, have mercy! I’m not one of them. I’m a prisoner, I swear it!”
One of the men, dressed in a long blue coat that looked like it belonged to a nobleman, seemed to be their captain. “Who are ye, then?”
Józef had one chance at survival, and he was desperate. His gambit was to convince the pirates that he was valuable enough to keep alive.
“I’m Józef Brandt, son of Henrich, late king of Kitezh. I swear to you: Let me live, and you’ll have riches beyond anything you find at sea. Just bring me back to my homeland.”
The captain laughed and jostled a few of his mates in the ribs. They joined in for a moment before pointing their firearms once more.
Jozef realized his gambit had failed, and if the ice cold water didn’t kill him, a storm of bullets soon would.
“Don’t shoot!” He threw his hands in front of his face, instinctively.
“Wait!” The captain’s command rang clear. “Where’d ye get that ring?”
Józef reversed his right hand and stared at his ring-finger. “It’s my family signet, given to me by my father. You can have it! Just … please, get me out of this boat!”
The captain smiled. “Perhaps it’s both of our lucky day.” He turned to his mates. “Git ‘im aboard.”
Józef’s entire body shook from layers of cold and fear. He had been moments away from death, and his new abductors would certainly be crueler than the first. As they dragged him onto their ship, he wondered how long he could stay alive.