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The Will-Breaker
Book 2, Chapter 15: Getaway (Part 1)

Book 2, Chapter 15: Getaway (Part 1)

The bunk was shaking. It did that whenever the ship was rocking in just the right direction and frequency. It wasn’t helping Meleng sleep.

Not that it made it much harder either. It wasn’t like he slept well these days. Most nights, he had at least one nightmare, and he’d already had two tonight. He’d seen so much death recently—on Scovese, in Ninifin, and elsewhere. The Youth Guard falling one after another to Ses-Tlacotl’s spear. Fra-Mecatl lying face-down in the mud. Inhuan dying to save his life. The images never went away. They were with him every night, every time he closed his eyes.

Akna had been having similar dreams—worse even—and before they’d gone separate ways, they would comfort one another. He wondered how she was doing. He hoped she was all right.

He had talked to Jorvan about his dreams on several occasions, and Jorvan had always tried to be comforting. But Jorvan wasn’t experiencing the same thing, and couldn’t fully understand. He had no intention of confiding in Sinitïa about them, and he was glad he hadn’t woken up screaming in the last few days since she had joined them. He dreaded her seeing that from him.

He rolled onto his side and peered over the edge of the bunk. Jorvan and Sinitïa were both fast asleep. Jorvan’s wings twitched a couple times, spreading out for just a moment, almost touching Sinitïa’s bunk, coming only a few inches short of her face.

Sinitïa was on her side, her face smooshed into her pillow. A couple strands of her hair hung over her nose and mouth, and blew out each time she breathed out, then back as she breathed in again. She looked so peaceful, so innocent.

Even more than he dreaded her hearing him scream in his sleep, he dreaded her experiencing the death and violence herself. And it was inevitable. There were still Darkers trying to kill them. Felitïa’s role as Will-Breaker—whatever that entailed—was far from over, if it had even begun. There would be more conflict. More fights. More deaths. The chase through Beldrum two days ago was nothing compared to what likely lay in the future. He couldn’t imagine what it would do to Sinitïa. How it would affect her. Change her. She didn’t deserve to have to bear the weight of such violence.

On several occasions, Meleng had pondered delivering her back to the Palace. As poorly as she was treated there, at least she would be spared the death and violence ahead of her.

But no. She’d made her decision—probably not as informed a decision as would be ideal, but she’d made it, and he had agreed to her coming along. There was no changing that now. The betrayal might destroy her as much as what lay ahead if she came along. So that was it. Her course was set.

Thinking of courses, the Lustrous Rose was due to sail out today. The crew had finished de-icing yesterday, helped by sunny, slightly warmer weather. At least, so he’d been told. He, Sinitïa, and Jorvan had spent the day below deck. The only remaining problem was that the local forces were still watching the ship. According to Gen and Ting, there were soldiers all along the pier, but with more concentrated near the gangplanks onto the Lustrous Rose. There was also a trebuchet pointed in the ship’s direction, albeit unloaded at this time. However, Gen remained confident they would be able to leave without incident. As long as they did nothing to draw attention and behaved like any other ship in the harbour.

Meleng wasn’t sure how long that would be from now, though. He wasn’t even sure what time it was right now. It probably wasn’t dawn yet, but he couldn’t be sure. It was hard to tell time without ever going up on deck and having no windows—ports?—to look out.

He could get up to check, he supposed, but he didn’t want to disturb the others, especially Sinitïa. Let her have her peaceful sleep while she could.

He rolled onto his back and tried to sleep again. It didn’t work, so he stared at the ceiling awhile.

Word came maybe an hour or so later that they would be leaving in the next hour. Captain Gen requested to speak with them as soon as possible. Since they couldn’t go to the Captain’s cabin without going out on deck, Gen came to them.

“We’re going to be fine,” he said. “They haven’t denied us permission to leave, so we’re going ahead with our scheduled departure. A couple ships are already preparing for departure, so we shouldn’t draw any particular attention. That said, Jorvanultumn, please be ready to assist us should something go wrong and we need to make a run for it. If you could provide us with the wind to outrun any ship that comes after us, I’d very much appreciate it.”

Jorvan nodded. “I will do what I can.”

Gen clapped his hands. “Excellent. In that case, wait just below deck and be ready to come up at a moment’s notice. Let’s hope it’s not needed though.”

Meleng and Sinitïa waited with Jorvan. Crew darted back and forth between them, while Ting and other officers yelled orders. Eventually, there was a judder as the ship started to move.

Miana Ting appeared at the top of the ladder. “Jorvan, we need you. Just before we set sail, we received an order to stay. We’ve decided to run for it, but they’re already bringing grapples to stop us.”

Jorvan dashed up the ladder.

“What should we do?” Sinitïa asked.

“You two stay there,” Ting said.

“I might be able to help,” Meleng said.

Ting shook their head. “You’ll just be in the way. Let us handle this.”

“But I can do something about the grapples. Jorvan can give you wind; he can manipulate the water for you, but he can’t do anything about the grapples. I can.”

Ting regarded him for a moment. “We already have people ready to cut them.”

“The ropes are thick. It’ll take them too long. I can do it faster.”

“How?”

“Just let me show you.”

Ting stared at him a moment longer. The ship lurched and Sinitïa stumbled into him.

“Please let him,” Sinitïa said. “He’s really good with magic!”

Meleng wasn’t sure he’d rank himself as highly as Sinitïa, but he could handle this.

Finally, Ting nodded. “All right, but if you get in the way of the crew or do anything that causes us to lose speed, I’ll haul you back down here myself. Understood?”

“Understood.”

Ting stood aside and he ran up onto deck. Crew were rushing about while the officers bellowed orders. He wasn’t sure where Jorvan was and he resisted the urge to look. Instead, he turned his attention towards the dock.

The ship had only pulled a few yards away from the pier. Already, two heavy grapples were hooked over each rail, each attached to a thick rope soldiers on the pier had tied to the heavy posts. Two crew members were at each grapple, one trying to release the grapple itself while the other tried to saw through the rope. As he watched, a third grapple connected with the rail.

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Meleng ran over to the new one first, since there was no crew already there—though a couple were approaching it when he got there. He waved at them. “It’s all right. I’ve got this. Stand back.”

He began to trace inscriptions onto the grapple, then stopped. No. The rope would be better. Less dangerous. No shrapnel. He traced the equations onto the rope.

The crew hadn’t listened though. One of them grabbed his arm and pulled him away before he could finish. “I don’t know what you think—”

“Let him finish!” came a barked cry from Ting. “Stand back as he asks!”

The crewman let him go, and Meleng rushed to finish the equation. He released the spell and jumped back as the rope frayed and burst apart. That section of the deck came free.

A fourth grapple connected and he ran to that next, reasoning that the crew might be most of the way through the first two by now. He traced the equations onto the rope and jumped aside again.

He looked back. The crewman cutting the rope of the first grapple made it through just then and that one came free.

Splashes came from the water. Meleng took a quick glance over the rail. Unarmoured soldiers were jumping into the water and swimming towards the ship. Not many, but he dreaded what might happen if they got aboard.

He rushed to the remaining grapple. “Please, move aside.”

The two crewmen did as he asked and he traced the equations onto the rope. It burst apart.

Freed of the grapples, the ship lurched forward. Meleng slipped and his head hit the deck. It took him a moment to regain his senses and when he did, there was a hand reaching down to him. It belonged to one of the crew. Meleng took it and let the man help him to his feet.

The crewman chuckled. “Need better footing, mate, but good work on the grapples.” He slapped Meleng on the back, then rushed off to respond to the orders the officers were barking.

Ting stood just a few feet away. As sailors rushed between them and Meleng, Ting said, “Good job. Now stay out of the way.”

Meleng nodded and looked for a spot that was out of the way. He wasn’t sure there was one.

He spotted Jorvan though.

The Isyar was flying above the masts, circling around the main mast. He rolled as he flew, his arms, legs, and wings moving as though in an elegant aerial dance. It was strain he shouldn’t be putting on his injured wing yet. If he kept doing this, he might permanently damage himself.

Wind was whipping up. It was blowing through Meleng’s hair and ruffling through his clothes. It was making it colder, but the sails were filling out and the Lustrous Rose’s speed was picking up.

A new yell came from somewhere farther down the deck. Others repeated it, passing it down along the deck to ensure all heard it.

“Trebuchet!”

The warning was yelled up the main mast to the crow’s nest, and presumably to Jorvan. Would Jorvan be able to hear way up there with the wind rushing around him?

Meleng turned and looked back towards the pier. The ship was pulling away from the soldiers in the water, but the trebuchet was another matter. Soldiers were loading it and turning it to point just ahead of the ship’s current position.

There was nothing Meleng could do about it. Not that he could think of, at any rate. It was too far away. He could strengthen the deck or hull, but not without knowing where it would hit. It would take far too long to strengthen everywhere.

He glanced up. Jorvan had changed his pattern. One arm now pointed straight to his side, moving in a separate pattern to the rest of his limbs.

By the trebuchet, water was lapping up over the edges of the pier. The soldiers there paid it no mind and continued their jobs. The trebuchet was almost ready.

A large wave leapt up and over the pier. The trebuchet rocked a little, but remained in place. The soldiers, however, couldn’t hold against it. The wave swept them off their feet, a couple of them sliding off the pier and into the water.

That would slow them down at least, Meleng thought, but by how much?

Another cry repeated down the length of the ship.

“Blockade!”

Meleng didn’t have a good view of what was ahead of them, and he was hesitant to move anywhere in case he got in the way. So he looked up to see what Jorvan was doing.

The Isyar no longer had one arm extended, and had returned to his original dance. As the blockade warning reached him, however, he turned and flew off over the bow and out of sight.

What was he doing? Surely he wasn’t going to attempt to attack one or more ships in the blockade by himself, was he?

Meleng looked about, at the sailors continuing their duties, at Ting standing midship and watching over what the crew was doing, back to the pier where the soldiers had recovered and finished readying the trebuchet.

It launched a massive rock at the ship. The rock flew high and then down through the rigging near the bow before crashing into the water on the other side.

Not as damaging as it could have been had it been a direct hit, but enough to cause problems. Crewmembers were already rushing to deal with it.

Meleng wished there was something more he could do. Or at the very least, he wished he could see more of what was going on.

What was Jorvan up to?

Midship, Ting had gone over to one of the large chests attached to the deck near the main mast. Most of them were open and the crew was pulling rope and other supplies from them, but this one was still closed. Taking out a key, Ting unlocked the chest and opened it. They pulled out a sword and passed it to a nearby crewmember. They then pulled two more out and moved aside. The armed crewmember began taking out more swords and passing them to other crew who rushed by.

Ting strapped one of their two swords to their belt, and walked over to Meleng. They held out the second sword to him.

Meleng stared at it. A cutlass if he knew his swords—which he didn’t really. “I…”

“Take it and go to your girlfriend. If we’re boarded, defend her with your life. They probably want her alive, but in the heat of battle, all kinds of things can happen.”

“I...I don’t know how…”

“I don’t give a shit.” Ting stared at him, eyes narrowing. “You can hold it. You can swing it. You got us into this by bringing her aboard, so do your part.”

Meleng took the sword and wrapped his fingers round the hilt. It was heavy to hold in one hand, but there wasn’t room for a second hand on the hilt.

Ting nodded. “Good. Now go to her.” They turned away and went back to directing the crew.

Meleng sighed and headed back below deck. He really wished Ting would stop calling Sinitïa his girlfriend. Why did people do that? Why couldn’t he and Sinitïa just be friends?

He navigated past sailors rushing about, doing his best not to get in anyone’s way, and reached the top of the ladder. There was no sign of Sinitïa.

Maybe she’d returned to their cabin.

Moving about below deck was easier than on deck, though there were still a few crewmembers who darted past him. It didn’t take long to reach the cabin.

Sinitïa wasn’t there.

Maybe she’d gone to paint the sheep again? It would be an odd choice at a time like this, but couldn’t think of anything else.

There was a terrible crashing noise. The ship lurched sideways. Meleng fell through the open door of the cabin, landing on Jorvan’s bunk. He barely avoided impaling himself on his sword.

They’d been hit by something.

The trebuchet?

It had to be.

Meleng rushed to the hold. There was no one there, only the sheep bleating and running about in their pen. Otherwise, very little in the hold looked disturbed. The cargo had been well secured in place.

So where was Sinitïa? She wouldn’t have gone up on deck, would she?

Gods, she might have.