Chapter 36
Chapter thirty-six
Wind Runner
“Can you lead me to them?” I pleaded.
Yes, Zephyra can do this. We go on an adventure!
Where could he be taking her?
Oh.
If we get separated on our journey, let’s agree to meet at the wishing well.
Just before I’d left for Pyrehold, I had said those words to Elena. And the wishing well was near Meadowrun, which was east. For the briefest moment, I hoped that maybe everything was okay. Maybe there was nothing to worry about.
But then I remembered the terrible thing at the end of the East Road.
Thornfell Keep.
King Tarnasau’s private citadel stood on the cliffs at the far end of the Jagged Coast. It was rumored to contain the king’s private alchemy labs, where some of his worst experiments were carried out.
If they had laboratories similar to the ones at Pyrehold…
My mind flashed to the memory of the Emberborn strung up on racks, and I couldn’t help seeing Elena among them.
For a moment, I considered the lone vial of Emberbane stored in my belt. The Order needed it. But it was Mireth herself who’d said that vows made to family were stronger than those made to the Order. And besides, who in the Order could I actually trust anymore?
So many of the things that had anchored me had come unmoored.
Which reminded me of Darion.
Up until then, I had successfully kept my mind off of him. That look in his eyes when he’d seen me hiding in the dark still haunted me.
He didn’t give you up, though, the voice in my head reminded me, intrusive and nagging. Orlik was about to spot you, and Darion distracted him. He saved you.
No.
Darion’s father had murdered my parents, and he’d kept that from me. That was all that mattered.
I put on my cloak, grabbed my bag, and headed toward the East Road. That was the only thing that I could do.
From the foraging spot, I headed south. Anytime I heard someone approach, I ducked into the woods until they passed.
When I reached the southern edge of the Blackwood Forest, I turned off the road and headed east, staying under the cover of trees, always keeping the perimeter within a stone’s throw.
The going was slow through the brambles, fallen trees, and dense spots in the woods.
I spent hours navigating the obstacles. But the cover of the forest kept me safe from prying eyes.
Despite all my precautions, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being tracked. Sometimes I saw a shadow out of the corner of my eye or heard a twig snap in the distance. I told myself that those things were to be expected in a forest teeming with life, but the unsettled feeling still lingered.
The sounds of Syra chasing me through the cellars haunted my memories. How had she lived through the Emberbane fireball? Her shifted form had to be nearly unstoppable.
Soon I reached the eastern edge of the Blackwood Forest and caught my first glimpse of the East Road and the Jagged Coast beyond. The briny scent of the sea filled the air.
Within moments of leaving the forest, Zephyra descended on me.
Little Cas! Elena and Straw Man are still on the big road. They keep walking, but humans are so slow. They passed the first people place right after I talked to little Cas.
“So they passed Brackmar this morning and are still moving east along the road?”
Yes, Zephyra said this.
Brackmar was still at least a few hours' walk away, and if they had passed it in the morning, that meant they were nearly a day ahead of me. That distance would be nearly impossible to make up…on foot.
Brackmar was a tiny coastal village east of Analon. I had done a few jobs for Garrick there and had made some contacts. If I could book passage on a ship headed east along the Jagged Coast, I might be able to leapfrog Elena and Kael and wait for them farther along the East Road.
That was the only plan my scattered brain could come up with, anyway. But I couldn’t help but worry about all the ways in which it might go wrong.
As I walked toward Brackmar, I tried to keep my mind occupied with how I might rescue Elena, but thoughts of Darion kept intruding.
Just a flash of his smile or his emerald eyes.
It was never a full memory, but enough to feed the pain of his absence.
I didn’t let my mind linger long enough to consider where he might be or whether he was still with The Butcher.
I banished such thoughts the moment they appeared.
By the time I saw the rooftops of the seaside hamlet, the shadows had grown long. Dusk was upon me. When I reached the village, night had fallen, and only the flickering torches guided my way.
Brackmar felt like the Wharf District in miniature, but without the grandeur of Analon.
Shoddy buildings abounded, worn from the constant exposure to the sea air.
Most buildings were made of wood and looked as if a strong wind would knock them down.
The cries of gulls called. The crashing of waves rumbled like a never-ending background rhythm.
I headed straight for a sleepy tavern in an alley off a minor thoroughfare—the kind of place you’d go only if you were a local or a regular.
Faded lettering above the door read BARNACLE & BARREL.
The decor was nonexistent, just a bunch of haphazard tables and chairs and a bar at one end of the room.
The tavern was mostly empty save for a handful of very crusty locals lost in their drinks.
I made my way to the bar and ordered a tankard of ale, mostly to keep up appearances. Then I whispered into the bartender’s ear, “Tell Rook that Cas is here.”
He gave me a subtle nod and walked through a doorway behind the bar.
I took my ale and sat in a dark corner where I wouldn’t attract much attention, then scanned the room.
There were three exits: the door I’d come in, the back door, and a window that would work in a pinch.
The four patrons appeared to be too drunk to do anything.
Only one carried a visible weapon. I allowed myself to relax the slightest bit and took a sip of my ale.
Every moment that passed made my chest tighten a bit more. Elena was out there somewhere, maybe in grave danger, and here I sat drinking piss-poor ale, not doing anything about it.
Soon the bartender returned, followed by a man with a shaved head and a dark complexion, wearing a tattered sailor’s uniform. He had countless piercings, and his face spoke of a hundred battles fought. He walked up to my table.
“As I live and breathe. I never expected to see your ugly mug in here again, Cassian Nightbrook.” His tone wasn’t exactly hostile, but it wasn’t friendly either.
I got up and stood face-to-face with him. “Considering the smell of this place and the fact that your ale tastes like piss, I never expected to be here again either.”
We continued to stare at one another, our expressions stony. Then we both broke into smiles and laughter and shared a quick embrace.
“Good to see you, Rook,” I said,
“Good to see you too, Cas,” Rook said, slapping me on the back.
I sat back down and gestured for him to join me.
“So, I take it this isn’t a social visit,” Rook said.
“Straight to business, as always,” I said. “I need to cash in on that favor you owe me.”
Rook sighed. “I get the sense that there won’t be any sleep for me tonight.”
I shook my head. “I need to move east along the coast as quickly as I can. As far as Grey Spit, if possible.”
“Most of my crew is either drunk or sacked up right now. But I get the impression that you want something small and fast anyway.”
“The faster the better.”
“The Wind Runner,” Rook said. “Wicked-fast cutter, and easy to maneuver at night. Twenty gold.”
“Fourteen.”
Rook scowled. “In a hurry, but still got time to barter, eh? Fine. Dock six in a quarter bell. I’ll at least need to track down my first mate.”
“Make it in half that time, and I’ll pay you sixteen.”
“Deal,” Rook said, and we shook hands.
Rook hurried off through the front door. Since I had some time to kill, I sipped my ale, but I didn’t drink much. Best to keep my wits about me.
Rook was a friendly enough guy, and I could trust him as much as I could trust any smuggler. At the very least, we had a mutual interest in keeping our business secret and avoiding the Crown.
I took a few final sips before I headed out to make my way to dock six.
The Wind Runner was a fast-looking ship, around thirty feet long and ten feet wide, with a bow that tapered to a sharp point. Rook and a tough-looking woman with pale skin and short-cropped hair were on the deck, fussing with the riggings and raising the mainsail.
Rook looked up as we approached. “Kind sir, please come aboard. This is my esteemed colleague, Jask,” he said with mock formality, twirling his wrist. Jask gave a tight nod and went back to her task.
“If you’re really in that much of a hurry,” Rook added, “you can untie the mooring lines while I help Jask hoist the mainsail.”
“Will do,” I said, and began to work on the lines. The ropes were slick with spray, and the algae-covered wooden dock made footing treacherous.
“Start with the fore and aft lines,” Rook barked at me.
“Aye,” I replied, mimicking the sailors I’d heard a thousand times while growing up in the Wharf District.
I had wriggled free the aft line and was working on the fore when a familiar and very uncomfortable feeling tickled my senses. Faint but growing steadily stronger was the thrumming of a null field.
I spun on my heel and looked down the dock, and my mind filled with dread.
At the far end were a handful of Sentinels and the unmistakable profile of Syra. They were still a good distance away but were running toward the ship. Syra was covering the distance quickly.
“Sentinels are here!” I yelled to Rook and Jask. “We have to go! Now!”
But then I saw the figure running ahead of them, which I hadn’t noticed in the darkness. I could scarcely believe my eyes, and my heart dropped into my stomach.
It was Darion.