Blackthorne Page 12

  “I can take care of myself. Can you say the same?”

  She might think you a weakling? he thought.

  Embarrassed, Nels motioned for Sebastian to follow him and plunged into the trees without turning back. He heard Captain Julia issue orders to her crew before leaving them to their tasks. It wasn’t long before she was tagging behind. He ignored her labored breathing as she fought the underbrush he let slap backward every few steps along the path, and spoke only to Sebastian, who cut their way through the thicket with a hatchet.

  Norman was a small island with several coves and played host to only one tiny Ytlainen fishing village of the same name located near the northernmost bay. Nels didn’t know how it’d come to be known as Norman Island. Unlike his sister, Suvi, he hadn’t spent much time studying the history of their mother’s home country. He’d focused on their enemy, the Regnum of Acrasia. The map he’d acquired from Dylan had all the information Nels needed as far as his plans were concerned. According to the map, Norman Island was a scant hundred miles across at its widest and twenty-five at its narrowest. There was one hill, a former volcano, where one could easily spy the ocean surrounding the whole landmass. Of course, this wasn’t Nels’s goal. The meeting with his cousin would take place near the easternmost cove, named Coral Bay. Lorelei would anchor on the opposite side of the island because as much as he wanted to like and trust Cousin Edvard, Nels simply didn’t. He didn’t have a reason other than the standard distrust the powerful have for one another. Suvi liked to refer to their extended family as a nest of bad-tempered spiders. Nels disagreed. In his experience, spiders didn’t actively seek out their own to destroy. Although they were known to eat their young.

  He supposed the differences were slight after all.

  Once they’d located the most advantageous spot from which to spy on Edvard’s camp, they’d bivouac nearby. When the meeting was done, they’d hike back across the island with their silver and take a dinghy to Lorelei. It meant more of a risk to himself and Sebastian, but Julia and her crew would go free if they ran into trouble.

  Nels glanced over his shoulder. At least, that had been the original plan.

  It took several hours to locate a well-concealed place with the desired view. It wasn’t long before he regretted his gratitude for reaching solid land. The predawn light was clogged with mosquitoes. None, it seemed, had eaten in days. Their buzzing and biting were enough to make Nels want to scream. He had finally resigned himself to their feasting when he spied Julia’s teasing lopsided smile. Lying in the undergrowth, he borrowed her spyglass.

  Four tents flanked a pavilion furnished with a table, chairs and three large chests. A cookfire burned in front of the main pavilion with an attendant cook. Royal guardsmen and servants patrolled the campsite—two of which remained near the chests at all times.

  “It would seem we’re not the only ones who have arrived early,” Nels whispered.

  Sebastian crawled up, slapped at his arm, and then wiped sweat from his brow. “I counted fifteen guards.”

  “Only fifteen? Good old trusting Edvard,” Nels said. “Always did like him in spite of the miasma of garlic.”

  “It looks like the entire palace guard is encamped on the beach north of here,” Sebastian said. “Far more troops than I’d deem necessary for a quiet chat with a cousin.”

  “Terrific,” Nels said.

  “And no fewer than four ships in the harbor. All are flying the Ytlainen cross and crown.”

  “Four? Are they ships of the line?” Julia asked, clearly worried.

  “I’m artillery … er … was,” Sebastian said. “I wouldn’t know a frigate from a rowboat.”

  “How many troops?” Nels asked.

  “About two hundred,” Sebastian said. “Give or take a few. I don’t have Viktor’s eyes. But …” He let the last sentence trail off.

  “All right. What is it?” Nels asked.

  “I don’t think they’re all Ytlainen,” Sebastian said.

  “Are they Acrasian?” Nels asked.

  Sebastian shrugged. “Perhaps. Perhaps not. Is it possible there are a large number of humans in the Ytlainen Royal Guard? And would they be carrying Acrasian muskets?”

  “Anything is possible,” Nels said. “It’s Cousin Edvard.”

  Sebastian said, “Well, sir?”

  “Shit.” Nels shoved stray hair from his eyes. “I don’t like this.”

  “I never have,” Sebastian said. “Dylan was right.”

  “We don’t know for certain that Cousin Edvard sold me out,” Nels said, and then sighed. And here I’ve angered Suvi by going against her orders. “All of you were right. This was stupid.”

  “I could’ve told you that. So, why, in the name of Mithras, did you decide to come here anyway?” Julia asked.

  “If I hadn’t shown up, Cousin Edvard may have guessed that we knew this was a trap and that we knew about his dealings with Acrasia,” Nels said.

  “And what difference does that make?” Julia asked.

  “He would’ve searched for the spy before Clan Kask could get their contacts safe. I bought them time to cover their tracks by coming here. It’s the least I could do in exchange for everything they’ve done for us. Still, I wanted to believe that Edvard hadn’t abandoned us,” Nels said. “Anyway, you never know. It’s possible Sebastian and I might get away with the silver.”

  Julia glanced down at the valley and the beach below. “You two must be a great deal faster, smarter, and stronger than you look.”

  Nels scratched at another insect bite. “If Viktor were here—”

  Sebastian said, “He’d tell you the same. Don’t do this.”

  “Another winter is on its way, and the troops aren’t going to weather it eating raw roots and sleeping in the snow,” Nels said.

  “Then send them to Treaty Island with Suvi and the rest,” Sebastian said.

  Nels asked, “And leave the refugees? What of the Hold?”

  “We aren’t there a majority of the time, anyway,” Sebastian said.

  “How much energy and expense do the Acrasians waste chasing us through the mountains?” Nels asked. “Time they could be spending hunting refugees? It’s better this way. Small raiding parties are harder to track. We know Eledore better than they do. We take them unaware, and we fade away into the forest. Leave them no solid targets.”

  “We’re only three hundred now,” Sebastian said.

  “Three hundred and twenty-three,” Nels said. “And how many have we killed in the past year alone? Don’t we have the leadbellies jumping at their own shadows?”

  Sebastian shrugged. “Your tactics are sound, sir. But we can’t hold out forever. The Acrasians have hundreds of thousands of troops.”

  “We only have to hold out until they start another war. And they will. You know they will,” Nels said. “I won’t abandon Eledore. Not if there’s a single chance. Suvi can stay where she is with what remains of the court. Safe. She has to. If she dies, the kingdom dies with her. My duty is to keep the weeds from taking root while she gathers her strength.”

  Sebastian opened his mouth.

  “I don’t want to discuss this anymore,” Nels said, holding up a hand. “Not now. We’ve other problems.” He gazed down at Edvard’s camp. He wished for anything substantial to work with. Anything at all. How are we going to get down there and back with the silver without getting caught? If only I had troops in reserve, they could cover us while I negotiated. Nels lowered the glass and rolled onto his back. Damn. Damn. Damn. Once again, he was forced into doing everything with nothing. It was getting to be a bad habit. Gazing up at the pine trees, their trunks seemed as broad as cannon as they stretched to the stars.

  Damn it all. If only I had something, anything to—

  Suddenly, he was reminded of something Julia had said earlier. You’ve never paid me in dead leaves.

  Dead leaves. Ah, now that is something. Nels spoke to her now. His voice was calm, quiet. “How much gunpowder do you have onboard?
”

  “Quite a bit. Enough for thirty-two eighteen-pound guns and six six-pounders,” she said. “Are you planning on buying it from me?”

  “Maybe,” Nels said.

  “With what money?” she asked.

  “Never mind that. Do you have black paint? Brown will do, if it’s dark enough.”

  “Have you lost your mind?” she asked. “What do you need paint for?”

  “Do you have it?” Nels asked.

  “We do.” She shrugged.

  “Good.” He waved away a mosquito. “How about saws?”

  She said, “No ship sails without carpentry equipment. At least not one planning on staying afloat for long.”

  “May I borrow a few members of your crew?” he asked.

  “That depends,” she said. “Will they be in danger?”

  “I don’t think so,” he said.

  “You’d best be certain. Because after the Acrasian Navy’s last visit, I can’t afford to lose a single crew member,” she said. “That is, unless you plan on taking their place. Although it might be fun watching you vomit from Lorelei’s topgallant during a storm.”

  “Point taken,” Nels said. “All right.” Rolling onto his stomach, he searched for a stick and gave it to Sebastian. “Draw the troop positions.”

  FOUR

  Nels pinched the bridge of his nose. His eyes burned, and he ached from a long day and night of hard labor. He’d been able to catch a few hours’ rest, thanks to Julia and her crew. Otherwise, he didn’t think they’d have finished in time. He resisted an urge to check his pocket watch. He’d been at sea too long for it to be anything approaching correct—Eledorean magic wasn’t the only thing on which the movement of the sea wreaked havoc. Instead, he looked to the sky. The blinding sun was positioned directly overhead. Of course, Cousin Edvard hadn’t established a time for the meeting, only the date.

  A trickle of sweat itched as it oozed its way down Nels’s back. In honor of the occasion, he was wearing his best uniform. That is, the parts of it that Viktor hadn’t scavenged for his disguise.

  Worries for his friend again surfaced. Would the Acrasians treat Viktor well? It wasn’t likely. They wouldn’t kill him. The price on Nels’s head was too high for that, and the Acrasian Emperor would want him alive to make an example of him. They wouldn’t know Viktor wasn’t who he claimed to be until they reached port.

  Unless Viktor’s powers wane on the water or they sail into a storm. Then they’ll kill him. After they torture him, of course.

  Damn, damn, damn, Nels thought. Why didn’t I just let them take me?

  “Shit,” Julia said, rubbing her temples with her eyes closed.

  “What is it?” Sebastian asked.

  “You’ll never guess where that dreadnought—the one with your friend on it—dropped anchor,” Julia said.

  “Where?” Nels asked.

  Julia indicated the other side of the island with an annoyed nod.

  Nels said, “I suppose I should thank them for not making us sail all seven Waterborne oceans in the search for Viktor.” Is he still alive?

  Sebastian borrowed Julia’s glass and vanished into the underbrush. After a moment’s thought, Julia followed after him. They returned not long afterward, scratched and sweaty.

  “Five more ships in the harbor,” Sebastian said.

  “All Acrasian dreadnoughts, no less,” Julia said, and then responded to Sebastian’s unspoken question. “Ships with guns that will tear apart my Lorelei should they corner her. She’s rated a ship of the line, but she can’t stand against that kind of opposition. We’re dead the instant they know we’re here, if they don’t already.”

  “And they’ve more Acrasian marines,” Sebastian said. “This just gets better and better.”

  “I guess that definitively answers the question about Cousin Edvard,” Nels said. He looked up at the ridge and hoped Captain Julia’s people were in position. “All right. Let’s go.”

  “You’re still going in?” Julia asked. “We should run. Now. While we have the chance.”

  “I’m not leaving Viktor to them,” Nels said. “If they’re here, they know he’s not me. How long do you think he has to live after that?” Whispering yet another prayer to Hasta for luck, he buttoned the collar on his wool jacket and then strode toward the path that led to the clearing. Sebastian trailed two steps behind, carrying a pack containing a bottle of wine, some bread, and hard cheese. Captain Julia reluctantly followed. She might not believe in domination magic, but Nels had spotted her furtively plugging her ears with cotton wool.

  Smart, he thought.

  It wasn’t long before he saw green-dyed tent canvas billowing in the sea breeze. One of the guards spied them and scurried off, vanishing inside the main pavilion. Within moments, the tent flap flew open, and King Edvard of Ytlain stepped out. His hair was wet and freshly combed. He finished fastening the buckle on his belt.

  “You gave no warning of your arrival, cousin,” Edvard said in Ytlainen. Although there were more wrinkles around his eyes and a few grey hairs among the black, he hadn’t changed that much since Nels had seen him five years before.

  “I’ve been away from court,” Nels said, also in Ytlainen. “I suppose I’ve fallen out of the habit. In any case, I seem to have left my page in Jalokivi. About four years ago. The army tends to frown on such things. Some silly rule about baggage limits.”

  Edvard gave the purple ribbon bound around the left sleeve of Nels’s uniform a raised eyebrow. “Still in mourning for your parents, I see.”

  Nels kept silent, but the knot in his stomach grew cold.

  “Terrible thing, what happened,” Edvard said. “But you didn’t come all this way to discuss the past. At least, not that aspect of it.” He motioned toward the pavilion.

  “You’re right,” Nels said. “I’ve come to discuss the future.”

  Settling into the chair offered by Edvard’s servant, Nels glanced at the chests sitting next to the table. They looked heavy.

  “Will you have some wine first?” Edvard asked. One of the servants opened a bottle and poured the contents into two glasses.

  Nels had expected this test and had come prepared. Bringing the crystal goblet to his nose, he breathed in the bouquet. Cherries. Raspberries. A hint of apricot. Port. A fine vintage. The best vintage he’d seen in years. It smelled wonderful. More than wonderful. Exquisite.

  Edvard leaned forward. His lips moved, and his piercing black eyes grew ever more intense. Nels registered a tingling sensation in his fingertips.

  The wine was more than mere wine. It was an open symbol for an unspoken offer—one Nels intended to reject, but the blatant force of its temptation surprised him. Drink, and the pressures of the past year would fall from his shoulders. Eledore’s survival. The responsibility. The deaths. The guilt. The lives of three hundred twenty-three soldiers now weighed directly on him. Would he gamble their fates well? Or would he fail them as he’d failed his father?

  Changeling.

  Drink. Drink from the glass, and his sister’s problems were no longer his own.

  Their father had cut Nels off when he’d fallen from grace and became a soldier. Still, Suvi had given her twin her support. She had been the only member of the family to openly do so in spite of their father. Their mother had also helped in every way possible, but her position was more tenuous than Suvi’s. A foreigner and a queen, their mother couldn’t take the same chances. Therefore, her assistance had come through Suvi. Always Suvi. Sometimes, Nels wondered if his mother would’ve defied their father at all if he hadn’t had a twin sister. He wanted to believe that his mother would’ve. Still, it’d been Suvi who had seen to it that he hadn’t starved or been murdered in his sleep. And when he’d been intent on self-destruction, Suvi had sent her personal bodyguard to drag him out of the gambling houses when he’d passed out. It’d been Suvi who had hired the fencing instructor, who’d paid for the lessons that had saved his life in duel after duel during that first year of servi
ce. It’d been Suvi who’d paid for Loimuta’s stabling when he couldn’t afford the price of a bucket of oats. Suvi. Always Suvi.

  Had she done it out of a sister’s love, or was it because she’d sensed all along that he’d prove useful?

  Forget. Drink. Rest. Let someone else deal with the responsibilities. Someone will. And they’ll do a better job of it, too. You aren’t that important.

  Nels teetered on the edge of that terrible decision.

  Magic-laced sea air crackled all around him. It dulled his senses as his cousin’s intent bore down on him. Nels’s sight narrowed into a tunnel. His brain ached. He was dizzy with the weight of the magical power, even if it didn’t affect him in the way it was intended. He didn’t want to imagine what it’d be like to endure the pressure otherwise. Domination magic and a great deal of it, Nels thought. Edvard treats me as if I were an animal to be directed as he chooses. Those who knew of Nels’s weakness often made that mistake.

  You are a defective. You should not have been permitted to live. You should’ve lived out your days in the dungeon beneath the royal palace. You should’ve been used for sport. Discarded.

  Changeling.

  You will drink, and declare loyalty to Ytlain.

  With his vision blunted by crushing magical force, Nels felt more than saw Sebastian take up a protective position behind him. Nels heard weapons clatter, and Captain Julia let out a surprised grunt. Nels didn’t need to look. It was Edvard’s next trap snapping closed.

  “Take Ytlain’s offer. It is the only way you’ll leave this place without leg irons, Ghost.” The words were in Acrasian.

  Nels recognized the voice. It was the overstuffed Acrasian marine lieutenant who had arrested Viktor.

  “You came here? For me?” Nels asked switching to Acrasian without effort, not turning around. “I’m flattered. But are you certain it’s me this time? I can wait until you fetch your spectacles.”

  “Make your jokes, if you will. I won’t fall for your games again,” the Acrasian marine said, and snapped his fingers.

  Nels heard something thump onto the ground. Someone grunted, and Sebastian made a small angry noise. Nels finally turned. The dizzy feeling vanished.