Chapter 22 #3
From her new position, she could see that they were in some kind of a natural cave.
The mouth of the cave looked surprisingly narrow, meaning it was probably hidden from outside view to casual passers-by, if there were any.
But, starting inside the mouth, the cave widened out to form a huge space.
She could barely see any part of the ceiling, more like an impression of height and dark overhead.
She could just about judge the size of the open space, though.
Big enough for a sea-faring ship to dock.
As was being proven by the fact that there were not one but two ships tied to the dock.
Before she took in the details of the ships, she wanted to get a sense for the rest of the space and who else was there.
Twisting her head to try and look behind her, she saw what must be the door to the lift, standing open, and not far away from that, a set of wooden stairs leading upward.
She lost track of the stairs somewhere in the shadows.
The area immediately in front of the lift was bare concrete or stone with piles of crates like the one she was leaning against. There was also a small wooden hut that seemed completely out of place, tucked next to the wall not far from the lift.
There didn’t seem to be any other people there, which was something of a relief.
Facing forward again, she could see that the wooden walkway where she had been dumped was indeed a dock, and stretched out a fair distance ahead of her.
To one side was a beaten-up vessel that looked a bit like a fishing trawler with nets and what looked like wire baskets on the deck.
There were a few trawlers still docked in the harbour in low city, even if they were almost all no longer used.
This one didn’t look sea-worthy, but Hallie had a feeling that might be deceptive.
She didn’t think that Jonah was the sentimental type to hold on to something that no longer worked.
There were a few dents in the side of the trawler that Hallie could see, and the paint was peeling off, revealing rusty metal underneath.
On the other side of the wooden walkway was a larger vessel, two or perhaps three times the size of the fishing trawler.
It was in much better condition, with no dents or rust visible that she could see.
The hull was painted a dark blue-gray colour, which she thought meant it would likely blend in with the sea at night.
There was no name or other insignia on it that she could see.
She was fairly sure that was illegal. She’d never seen a boat, no matter what size, without some kind of numbers or letters on its sides.
But there were a few people - all human - working on and around it.
Loading up some wooden crates that looked a bit like the one she was resting against.
The vessel had a flat deck, with a large opening towards the back where the humans were loading the crates, and a cabin sticking up from the deck around the middle of the boat.
She didn’t pay much attention to that, or the crates, attention caught by clear evidence that this wasn’t an ordinary boat.
At the front and back of the vessel were giant guns - some kind of enormous machine gun on a metal mount, which was most likely bolted to the deck.
There was another weapon of some kind on the top of the cabin.
Hallie didn’t recognise it beyond knowing it was a weapon.
She shivered, teeth clattering together.
Not just a boat disguised and designed to hide from detection, but one carrying powerful weaponry.
And that vessel, along with everything else in the cave, answered at least one question as to what Jonah was up to in this out-of-the-way place. Smuggling.
It explained how Jonah was able to get fuel for the ATVs and a generator or other mechanisms to provide power to the house, and why his men had access to bottled water and protein bars.
She could easily see what Jonah was getting from the arrangement.
She didn’t understand what the island might have that Jonah was smuggling out.
Then she remembered the conversation between Jonah and Findo.
Part of the cargo was young men, bundled off to fight in Findo’s illegal rings.
Hallie thought there was likely more to it than that, but that explained a few things.
She remembered Rhodda’s warning that Jonah made people disappear.
She felt sick, and wondered if No-knot knew that far from being sent to another posting, with more interesting things to do, he was most likely going to be stripped of all his weapons and put into a ring to face whatever veondken Findo could find to pit against his human fighters.
She didn’t think No-knot would enjoy the experience. Or survive for long.
She remembered the nameless dead men that she and Girard had found, carelessly discarded in low city, with no ID on them. Perhaps they’d come from here, transported through this cave, thinking that they were heading for a better life.
Her stomach turned and she leant her head back against the crate, trying to breathe lightly and not throw up.
The zauber sent a gentle pulse of magic through her, keeping her warm, but also giving her healing a little boost. She sent it a silent thank you.
After their efforts defending against the warrimel and then the further energy draw in hiding the children, it still wasn’t at full strength, but it was giving her what it could. She could only hope it would be enough.
Shifting her position against the crate again, she realised that the rope around her wrists felt a little looser than when she’d woken up. She flexed her elbows, pulling, and felt the rope yield. Not much. Not enough for her to wriggle out of the tie, but it was something.
Findo and Jonah had gone to stand by the larger vessel, involved in some tense exchange.
Whatever the business was between them, it was clear that they were not friends.
They were caught up in their disagreement, attention focused on each other.
Brock was standing a few paces away from the men, shifting on his feet, shoulders bowed.
Not sure what he was supposed to be doing, or why he was there, Hallie guessed.
She had a chance to do something now, while Jonah and Findo were distracted. She wasn’t sure what she was going to do, but it certainly wasn’t going to be sitting here meekly waiting for whatever destination Findo had in mind.
Whoever had gone through her pockets might have missed the zauber, but they hadn’t missed anything else.
She didn’t have a single tool on her person.
Nothing she could use to cut the rope or help wriggle out of it.
She shifted her weight slightly again, trying to feel what was behind her.
Sometimes wooden crates had loose metal nails, or something else she might be able to use to work the knots loose.
Nothing. She pressed her lips together and tried to think.
Now she’d been right way up and still for a few moments, her head was a little clearer.
The heat that she’d gotten from Findo had chased the worst of the chill away, but she couldn’t feel her toes, and the cold air was digging into her skin through the t-shirt.
She had to move now, before she got too cold and muddle-headed to do anything.
If only she had something she could use.
If not a knife, then some other skill. Perhaps the investigators had a course in escaping from captivity?
She must ask Girard. It wasn’t going to help her now, though.
All she had were her own resources and the zauber, already stretching itself trying to heal her.
But her own resources included the magic that Emmet Lowery had been trying to teach her how to use. She remembered her first lesson with him, in the small library at Cotovatre’s house. Magic is, at its most basic and essential core, the application of one’s will.
The application of will. The words rolled around Hallie’s head.
She was sure there was a profound thought in there, and an answer, but the pain in her skull and the creeping cold made it difficult to think.
If only she could get free of the rope, she’d be able to move, to warm up, perhaps even get a pain patch.
Rope.
She stared down at the ties around her ankles. The application of will.
She’d done magic before without having a fancy spell or any book learning to apply it. When she’d really needed it, magic had saved her more than once. And she needed it now.
She kept staring at the rope. And nothing happened.
Perhaps she was over-thinking it. She wriggled her toes, relieved to see that they were still working even if she couldn’t feel them. She imagined the rope wriggling the way her toes had done, sliding free and releasing her from the restraint.
To her shock, the rope did what she’d imagined. Both the ties at her wrists and at her ankles slid away, leaving her free.
Now, if she could just hide herself, that would be ideal.
The instructions that the zauber had given her to hide the children came back to her.
She tried to apply them, the odd push and pull, in her mind.
Her body warmed and magic flowed through her, but she couldn’t tell if it was working.
No time to waste, though. She needed to escape before Findo or Jonah glanced her way again.
She was up on her feet before she thought to check where Findo and Jonah were, or whether they were still arguing.
She didn’t stop or check behind her, heading away from the sea, towards the piles of crates.
That was the only hiding place she could get to fast, get her bearings and work out what to do next.
The restraints on her ankles must have been tighter than she’d realised as she could barely walk for the first few steps, hobbling horribly until her feet remembered what they were for and she was able to pick up the pace.
And she discovered one advantage of not being able to feel her feet was that she didn’t feel the roughness of the wooden walkway or the stone floor, just the numb strike of each step against the ground.
Just as she reached the first pile of crates, a shout rose behind her. Jonah had noticed her absence. She should have known he’d be paying attention, no matter how caught up with Findo he’d seemed.
She flung herself forward, into the shadows behind the crate, and landed hard.
More shouts rose, and she was able to pick out Findo and Jonah’s angry voices, with Findo blaming Jonah for not making sure the ropes were tight and Jonah telling Findo it was his fault.
She heard some inaudible stammering from Brock, who was most likely also getting the blame.
Jonah then started shouting at everyone else to get looking for her.
The space behind the crates wasn’t going to keep her safe for any length of time, Hallie knew.
Even Brock would be able to find her. Jonah, Findo and the others were all focused on the dock and the water to either side, perhaps thinking she’d just rolled over the edge into the sea.
She realised that no one had seen her move.
Her attempt at magic must have worked. She wanted to shout in triumph, biting her lip to hold in the sound.
She could celebrate when she was out of danger.
She glanced past the crates at the dark water and shivered.
Despite living in a coastal city, she’d never learned to swim.
The idea of going into the water made her shiver again.
So that wasn’t an option. She could try getting in the lift and seeing if she could take it up to the house.
But then she’d be in a space full of Jonah’s men, still unarmed.
She needed to find some way of defending herself.
Get some weapons. And then, if she could, get away.
Get help. Find Girard. Her chest constricted with worry.
Girard. He should have been here long before now.
She was close to the open door of the lift now.
It was tempting. So tempting. Particularly when the searchers headed for the other end of the dock, farther away from her.
She tried drawing on her magic again, the push and pull.
Nothing but a hollow sensation. She was drained.
She’d have to risk being seen. She gathered herself into a crouch and then, not giving herself time to think, sprinted for the open lift.
She had never operated one before, but this one seemed easy. There were two buttons on the inside - one green, one red. She dragged the door shut, wincing at the loud noise it made, and then thumped the green button. With a creak and a groan, the lift started moving up.
She huddled on the floor of the lift, peering down as the ground disappeared, hearing more angry shouts of discovery and seeing Findo’s face, bearing a furious scowl, before the lift rose further and he disappeared from view.
Over the creaking of the metal cage of the lift she could hear more shouting and pounding, like someone or more than one person running up stairs.
Stairs. She’d forgotten about the stairs.
Jonah had sent men up those rickety wooden steps.
She had to assume that they went all the way up to the house, like the lift shaft.
She wondered how fast the men could run compared to the speed of the lift, and what she would find waiting for her at the top.