Page 66 of Broken Fate
“Halt!” he snarled.
I scoffed. “No.”
Then I was gone, darting down a side alley, jumping over piles of detritus and garbage that had piled up over time. The chain didn’t hold the guards long, but it gave us a few more seconds, and that was all we needed to jump into a boat and begin rowing out to our ship.
“Hurry,” Kiel growled from his place at the stern, where his oar bit deep into the cold, dark waters of Helisson Bay. “Stroke hard. We won’t have long before they come after us.”
My face was set as I worked hard to keep in time with the others, propelling us forward.
“Can we outrun them?” Clive asked, his voice as tight as my grip on the oar.
“Unlikely,” Praksis said from his spot in front of me, glancing to the left. “But all we have to do is get out to the sea and lose them once night falls.”
I followed his gaze. Which ‘them’ was Praksis referring to?
The answer was almost immediately obvious. Three ships at anchor near the far end of the bay drew my attention like lightning rods. Low-slung to the water, the black-painted hulls were sleek and ominous. A single band of white ran down the hull lengthwise, splitting it into an upper and lower section. The sails as well were dyed black, giving it a rakish air.
Ships of the Imperial Navy.
The Canis Empire wasn’t much of a sea-faring nation, but I knew we had a navy. That was the first time I’d ever seen one of the ships in person, however, and they looked like sharks to our whale. Mean, tight, and all business. I shuddered to think what would happen if they overtook us. My oar bit a little deeper, and my shoulders pulled a little harder.
By the time we reached our ship, the captain and his crew were already getting it turned around and ready to put to sea. Other ships in the harbor were maneuvering to get out of our way, and sailors yelled obscenities as we passed.
We ignored them all, heads down as we rowed for all we were worth, keeping up with the bigger ship as it started to move. A rope dropped between us. Kiel tied it to Gralk’s body under his shoulders, and the unconscious shifter was hauled up. The same rope came back.
“Go!” Kiel snapped, pointing at me.
I dropped the oar into the bottom of the boat and grabbed hold, using the rope to walk up the side of the ship. Two sailors grabbed my arms as I neared the top and pulled me over with enough force to send me sprawling on my stomach. Andi was right behind me, and I rolled to the side so that she wouldn’t land on me.
“What are you doing down there?”
I glared at the agile woman as she landed casually on both feet and extended a hand down to haul me up. My look only produced a quick smile.
One by one, the others joined us until we were all on board. The captain barked at his men, and the other sails slowly unfurled, catching the wind before being hauled in tight by the crew, lines lashed to this and that, holding it firm.
A familiar queasiness overcame me, and I lunged for the side as we picked up speed and moved into the open waters beyond the bay. As I hung there, emptying the contents of my stomach, I looked back.
One of the ships was just beginning to move, its predatory, darkened sails dropping into place with a crispness that outdid even that of our ship. Those men were trained professionals. And they were after us.
I heard groaning. Risking a glance behind me, I saw chestnut hair hanging limply down the back of another form as she hung over the other side of the deck. I wanted to gloat, to tell Andi she was just like me after all, but that was interrupted by another bout of heaving. All I could do was hang on and hope I didn’t fall over.
Some hours later, I awoke with a start to find darkness had fallen. When had I fallen asleep? I was still slumped against the railing. Why hadn’t anyone woken me? The sun had still been well in the sky when we left, which meant half a day or so had passed. I vaguely recalled a haze of time passing while I struggled to keep my stomach from turning inside out. How much time had I spent with my head over the rail?
“You were out cold.”
I glanced up to see Clive approaching, a cup in his hand. “Here,” he said, crouching and handing it to me.
It had the same gingery smell to it as the one the sailor had given me. “Thanks,” I said hoarsely, accepting it gratefully. For the moment, my stomach seemed calm, though the ship still rose and fell regularly. Maybe I was adapting?
“You should get up and come below,” Clive said, his voice low. “We’ve put out all the lights, and the captain wants us as quiet as possible to help escape the navy frigates.”
“Makes sense.” Taking a few more sips of my drink, I got to my feet, my legs somewhat rubbery.
Clive stood nearby, keeping his arm ready. Just in case.
“Since when are you an old hand at sailing?” I asked, irritated at his lack of distress.
“Never,” he replied. “But I guess it just doesn’t bother me.”
