The sundering hours, p.36
The Sundering Hours, page 36
The Spektor hurled the dagger down. It stuck in the wooden plank below. Black blood began to flow upward from the wound in his side, snaking over his shoulder and along the length of his arm until it wound around his fingers. He gazed it at, fascinated, then stepped to the mainmast and set his hand on it. The blood coursed up the wood like a thick tar.
The rest of the Colonists picked themselves up from the deck. Delia broke away from the group and hurried towards Daniel, who held his hand to a bloody gash on his brow.
“A new age is soon to begin,” Pallaton said. “The like of which has never been seen before. Far worse than any clan feud. Bloodier, even, than the treachery of which you all stand accused. It will break upon every shore, ride upon the winds, tread every mountain, field, and road. And there will be no escape. Not for any living soul.”
The black liquid covered the crow’s nest in thick strands, then continued to the very top of the mast.
Ink’s frown deepened. “You mean war?”
The Spektor looked at him in surprise, as if the thought hadn’t occurred to him. “War? Why, yes. That, too.”
The next moment, a great bolt of lightning tore from the heavens and struck the top of the mast. Before the flash had even faded, the Spektors disappeared from the deck.
“Oh, no,” Jasper said, staring up in dread.
The mainmast had caught fire, and the flames were spreading quickly downwards. Daniel cursed and ran to a crate near the cargo hatch where they kept a collection of tools.
“We have to cut it down before it reaches us!” he shouted.
“Quickly! Everyone take something!” Delia cried.
Hatchets and axes were passed around.
“There’s a saw in the carpenter’s storeroom!” Skiff said.
Jeremy nodded. “Go for it!”
As she ran off, Ink turned to see the ghost ship pull away towards the west. It disappeared soon after. Margaret pushed a hatchet into his hand.
He ran to the mast and joined the others in attacking it. The storm had come to life again, swirling ruthlessly around them, fanning the flames rather than dousing them. Ink’s heart was in his mouth, fear quickly draining his strength.
“Stop looking up!” Delia cried. “Don’t look at the fire! Focus on the mast!”
A minute later, Skiff raced back with the saw in hand. Jasper dropped his hatchet and took hold of the other end. Ink felt a trickle of sweat run down his face. Traces of sawdust were on his coat. Pieces of wood flew into the air. He resisted the urge to glance at the fire but was aware of a wave of heat coming steadily closer. He gritted his teeth, thought of the Spektors’ sneering, self-satisfied faces, and hacked with all his might.
Delia dropped her axe. “Daniel! Jeremy! Help me push! The rest of you keep going!”
“Heave towards the starboard side!” Daniel cried.
The two men joined her and shoved against the mast. The sails began to burn, raining down soot and glowing embers.
“Saints above!” Jasper wailed.
“Keep going!” Skiff said between clenched teeth.
The mast creaked and groaned. Ink paused to wipe the sweat and sawdust from his eyes. The next moment, there was a massive crack, a popping sound, and the timber began to bend. They shouted and redoubled their efforts. The fire blazed across the mainsail, lighting up the deck from one side to the other.
“Heave!” Daniel cried.
The mast cracked clear across and pitched towards the side of the ship, pinning the saw and scattering pieces of burning canvas over the deck. Delia shouted for everyone to stand clear. Another crack and a loud groan signaled their victory at last. The great mast toppled down into the swirling wall of water, which plucked it away like a tree branch in a whirlwind. The lines still attached to the mast snapped and tore away.
As the Colonists rushed to douse the burning shreds of sail, the storm died away with a final breath of wind. The rain stopped. The waves calmed. Even the lanterns on the Grackle were visible again. There was no cry of joy. No exhalations of relief. They hadn’t the breath, nor the energy. Ink sat back on his heels, gasping and feeling as though his heart would burst.
“Radburn . . .” Margaret said on a choked breath with a hand on her stomach, glancing over at Daniel. “We must hurry.”
“Hello!” a voice cried from the ship beside them. “Hello, there!”
The Colonists picked themselves up and hurried to the port side. The two vessels were close enough now that Ink recognized Blackwood at once, waving his handkerchief at them. Seherene stood nearby, her face stricken with worry and anguish.
“Do you require assistance?” Blackwood called.
Ink rolled his eyes. What a question.
“Yes!” Daniel shouted back. “One of our crew is badly injured! If the Lady Seherene doesn’t object, we could use her skills!”
Seherene rushed to Blackwood’s side and began to speak with him.
Ink glanced at his fellow Colonists. “Who’s injured?”
“Mr. Radburn,” Delia answered. “He and Amos decided to fire a cannon at the Spektor’s ship and didn’t realize it was unsecured. It rolled back over the poor man’s leg and crushed it.”
“What about the others?” Jeremy asked. “Is everyone else all right?”
Margaret nodded. “Harriet and Martin are with Radburn. Simon, too. Evering and Amos went to calm the animals.” She nodded at Delia. “I’m going back down. I’ll let them know she’s on the way.”
Even from a distance, Ink could tell that Blackwood was reluctant to part with his Entrian guest. But in the end, as Margaret had guessed, he finally consented, and she was rowed over to the Chain Breaker in a jolly boat accompanied by four of Blackwood’s crew.
When they reached the ship, two of the sailors climbed aboard after Seherene. She instructed them to stay on the main deck while she hurried towards the companionway. Delia preceded her to lead the way. The rest of the Colonists followed, including Jeremy, who directed one of the sailors to take the helm until he returned.
No one spoke freely until they were below decks.
“Are the rest of you all right?” Seherene asked.
“Yes, besides nearly being burned to cinders,” Delia replied.
“Is Chester all right?” Jeremy asked. “I couldn’t see him on deck.”
“He’s fast asleep,” the Entress answered.
“Oh, hang it all!” Ink cried. “We might have used this chance to get away!”
Delia shook her head. “Nothing’s ever that easy for us. Come on. He’s in here.”
They had just reached the lower gun deck. Radburn lay in the middle of the compartment, sipping a bottle of whiskey which Martin was feeding him. Harriet cradled the old man’s head while Simon attended to his bloody mess of a left leg. Seherene hurried to the old man’s side and knelt.
“Fools,” Radburn said to her. “We were fools to try it.”
“But brave nonetheless,” she said, putting a hand on his shoulder.
“I know they’re dead spirits,” he continued, “but I thought of all the stories I’d heard about monsters falling to manmade weapons. Thought it was worth a shot.”
He chuckled weakly at his own joke.
Seherene glanced at his leg. Above his shattered knee was a blood-soaked band of cloth and leather strips. She looked at Simon. “A tourniquet?”
“That was Margaret’s quick thinking. I’ll have to remove it before you begin.”
“Remove it.”
The others gathered closer as Simon reached down and unfastened the band. Fresh blood began to ooze from the severed arteries. Seherene took a deep breath, then reached out for Simon’s hand. He gave it to her and nodded. Martin put his hand on Simon’s shoulder, lending his strength. One by one, the others joined in, making contact however they could. The Entress closed her eyes to focus. Radburn copied the motion.
Ink couldn’t help but watch. Slowly, the leg began to mend, veins and tissue and flesh knitting themselves back together again. There was a creaking sound as the bones reformed to their proper places. Radburn winced at the sensation but made no noise. Only when the cloth of his trouser leg had been stitched up again did Seherene finally open her eyes and release Simon’s hand. Her left hand remained on the old man’s shoulder.
“How does it feel?” she asked.
Radburn opened his eyes, raised his bushy gray brows in surprise, and adjusted his round spectacles as he surveyed his fully restored leg. He moved his foot, bent his knee, then let out another chuckle. “Well, I’ll be jiggered. It’s even better than it was before. I was sure I’d be walking on a wooden one for the rest of my life but you’ve gone and done the impossible, ma’am. Thank you.”
He reached for her hand in friendship, which she gave.
“Thanks to you all,” Seherene said, looking around at the others. “Once again.”
Harriet and Martin helped Radburn up onto a nearby stool. Everyone else took the moment of respite to rub their faces or sigh as they took their own seats on crates or cannons.
Radburn clasped Harriet and Martin each by the arm. “And extra thanks to you two for sticking by an old man while all the excitement went on upstairs. You as well, Mr. Simon.”
“I have to admit,” Harriet replied, “I was grateful for the excuse.”
Martin glanced at the others. “So, did he . . . appear again?”
Jeremy nodded. “And brought a few of his friends. Including the ringleader from that gang we saw in Harroway.”
“Did you see anything from the other ship?” Ink asked Seherene. “Did Blackwood?”
“No. Once the storm came into its full fury we could see nothing at all.”
“And Caradoc? He’s . . . gone?”
With a pained expression, the Entress nodded.
“Wait a minute, how would she know?” Delia said with frown. “You’re not saying . . . Caradoc was on that other ship?”
Ink sighed. “He was. He got the idea to swim over there and rescue Seherene and Chester. Thought he wouldn’t be noticed this time of night. But just in case, he asked me to make a lot of noise to draw the other crew’s attention.”
“Which worked in the end,” Seherene said. “I did my best to convince him that deceiving Blackwood in such a way would only be worse for everyone, but he wouldn’t hear it.”
Simon put a frustrated hand to his brow. “Mercy’s sake, we’re going to have to start chaining him up. He’s not only growing more stubborn but more reckless as well.”
“What about Pallaton?” Martin asked. “What did he want this time?”
Those who had been onboard during the Spektors’ visit all turned to look at Skiff. She stood a little ways apart from them, clutching her arm and half-turned as if preparing to run. After a long silence, she finally raised her eyes and glanced around.
“He wanted to warn everyone. About me.”
“Warn us?” Radburn said with a frown. “What’s all this about?”
“He said she was leading us astray,” Daniel replied. “That she wasn’t to be trusted.”
“What did he mean, Skiff?” Jasper asked, looking worried and still quite spooked.
She bit her lip, creasing her brow as though she might burst into tears. “I can’t tell you.”
Simon looked hard at her. “Meaning you’re really not trustworthy?”
“Please,” she said. “Please don’t make me say any more. I’m sorry, Daniel. I’ve . . . never told you my whole story. But there’s a good reason for it. And I will tell you one day. Just not yet.”
“And why not?” Delia asked. “You can’t throw in your lot with the Colonists and then expect us to look the other way when a Spektor lets slip that you have a secret.”
“I’m sorry. But I can’t explain it now. I’m forbidden.”
“By whom?” Jeremy asked.
“Please,” she said again, almost desperate now. “I really can’t say anything more. Not ‘til the appointed time. Everything will be ruined otherwise. I know it’s hard to hear, but you can trust me when I say I don’t mean any harm. I’m only trying to help.”
“By sending us to King’s Island?” Ink asked. “That was your idea.”
“Yes. And we can do no better, believe me.”
“And that mark on your forehead?” Margaret asked. “Can you tell us nothing of that?”
Skiff began to shake her head again, but then a thought struck her, compelling enough to draw her a few steps closer to the group. “Yes. There is one thing. Lady Seherene . . . if you’ll examine the mark, you’ll find it’s been infused with a bewilderment enchantment.”
“What?” Daniel said. “Skiff, you’re an Entrian?”
“No. I didn’t do the enchantment. But it was set there as a precaution. If I say too much, if I break my oaths . . . I will lose my memory.”
The Colonists exchanged glances of astonishment, and no small amount of concern. As Simon caught Seherene’s eye, he nodded. She approached the young woman and raised a hand to her brow. The mark had already begun to fade, but the enchantment must have still been evident for the Entress stepped back a moment later and nodded.
“She’s telling the truth.”
Delia made a noise of disgust. Ink knew what she was thinking. Only Seherene would be able to know that for certain, and anyone who still opposed her could easily conclude that this whole business was another conspiracy—that she and Skiff were working some terrible scheme together. But there was another point no one had mentioned yet. So before Delia could put her suspicion to words, Ink spoke first.
“You used a phrase from the Keyholder Book. ‘God sees what man cannot’. I recognized it. No one’s supposed to be able to open those pages. Even my seeing it was an accident.”
“I’ve never read it, if that’s what you mean. I’ve never even seen it. But I do have . . .” She stopped short and bit her lip again.
“You have certain knowledge about such things,” Seherene finished. “About the supernatural.”
Skiff remained silent, her eyes fixed to the floor. Answering in the positive must have been too close to oath-breaking.
“Are you a priestess, then?” Daniel asked. “Or some kind of . . . occultist?”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, she’s Skiff!” Radburn said, gesturing towards the young woman. “The same Skiff we’ve come to love and respect. She can’t answer any of our questions? Fine. So be it. That don’t change the fact she’s been a good friend and crewmate. A good person. If she weren’t, she’d be lying to our faces right now, or trying to. But she isn’t. She’s telling the truth, and the truth is that we can’t have our answers now. So we wait then, don’t we? Are we suddenly on a crusade against waiting?”
Jasper nodded at the others. “Radburn’s right. She ain’t no liar, nor any kind of traitor or cheat. And if she tells us we can trust her . . . then I say we can, too.”
Daniel ran an exasperated hand over his face. When he looked at Skiff again there was a touch of anger in his eyes. “That’s a hard thing to ask of us, Skiff. To ask of them, especially.”
“I know, Daniel. But think . . . have you ever known me to lie?” She turned and looked at the Entress. “Have I said anything false?”
“No,” Seherene answered. “Nor are you anyone so worrisome as an occultist. You would give me an unsettled feeling otherwise, as Lord Malkimar did. Of course, there are other ways to deceive apart from an outright lie. Half-truths and omissions. But against such things we can only rely on intuition. And I feel no hint of warning from mine.”
There was a long moment of silence. Skiff looked like she wanted to melt into the shadows. Ink knew the feeling. He also knew Skiff meant what she said, for her claim was also his. There were many secrets he couldn’t tell the others—maybe never—but that didn’t mean he meant to hurt anyone.
Daniel stepped towards Skiff and put a hand on her shoulder. “Radburn’s right. You’re our Skiff. And I can’t say I’m pleased by this turn of events, but I do know you. Maybe not so well as I thought . . . but enough to have your back. You’ve always had ours, after all.” He glanced back at the rest of the Colonists. “I won’t ask the rest of you to take my word, or anyone else’s. You’ve got to be careful, and you’ve been betrayed before. We all know that. If Skiff is no longer welcome, just say the word. But if she does leave, I’ll be going with her.”
“And me,” Jasper said.
“Me, too,” Radburn added.
Harriet folded her arms and glanced across the compartment. “Ink . . . when the Spektors came . . . did they treat her as an enemy? Or as an ally?”
“She weren’t no friend to ‘em, that’s for sure,” he said. “They tried to choke her cross-eyed, in fact.”
“And we all ran to stop it,” Margaret replied, “despite the Spektors’ warnings.” She rested a hand on one hip. “I also can’t help but remember a pair of lunatics showing up at my house a while back. They were full of secrets, too, unable to explain everything then and there like I wanted. Still . . . it turned out for the best.”
She looked at Simon, who couldn’t help but smile.
“I say she’s all right,” she continued.
“So do I,” Ink said. “I got a similar story ‘bout trusting loonies. And by loonies I mean all of you, by the way.”
“Yes, thank you, Ink,” Delia replied with a wry smirk.
“I trust her,” Jeremy said. “And not only on her word but on Daniel and Sarah’s, too.”
“I agree,” Simon said.
Harriet nodded. “Yes. So do I.”
“And me,” Martin answered. He looked at Delia. “But what say you, Quartermaster?”
Delia wiped a stray hair from her face and sighed. “Well . . . after being in our unique situation for so long, I suppose everything starts to feel like a trap. But that doesn’t mean it is.” She moved towards Skiff. “I also know that if the Devil gives advice, one should always do the opposite. So . . .” She held out her hand. “I’m going to trust you like Caradoc’s life depends on it. For I’ve a sneaking suspicion it does.”
The worried look on Skiff’s face melted into relief, and she took the elder woman’s hand and exchanged a solid shake.
