Chapter 10
Wyatt strapped his sheath belt to his waist to secure his weapons in place, and then pulled his pistol out of its holster to check it. It was the final step in his morning routine, and just as he finished and returned the gun to its place at his right hip, there was a heavy rap on his door in the captain’s cabin.
At the knock, he hurried over and opened it to Carter.
“Wyatt,” he panted. “There’s been an explosion at the mines.”
“Let’s go.”
Wyatt pulled the door shut behind him and sprinted down the ramp after Carter, where they flew around the corner to the stables near the docks. It took no time at all for them to saddle their mounts, and they didn’t take the roads. Wyatt gave Maple the command to fly, and she hoisted herself into the air with him on her back, cutting through the breeze in the direction of the mines.
“What happened?” Wyatt shouted to Carter over the rushing wind.
“I’m not sure,” he called back. “A messenger came to tell Ludo, and he instructed me to come get you to meet him there.”
Wyatt nodded, saying no more until they arrived at the mines shortly after, and came to a landing within the walls of camp. He didn’t need to ask where the explosion happened. A crowd was gathered around the edge of camp, where a large portion of missing wall stood amongst its scattered debris. He and Carter dismounted and ran to the scene, stopping when they reached Ludo.
“Admiral,” Ludo greeted. “Lieutenant.”
“Major,” Wyatt replied. “What happened? ”
Ludo motioned for him to follow, and led them carefully over the piles of debris and through the missing portion of wall to the outside, where soldiers forced the crowd back to give them space.
“Looks like we’re facing a resistance,” Ludo said as he stopped and pointed to the side of the breach.
There, on the stone and dirt wall in black paint, someone had painted the head of a blackfire dragon. It wasn’t entirely unfamiliar either. Though Emperor Anseau hadn’t given much priority or attention to the budding resistance against Sovereign, Wyatt had heard of it, and while he still didn’t know what they called themselves, they had a motto. Freedom in Shadows. And apparently some of its members were on Remigan.
“Was anyone hurt?” Wyatt asked.
“A few soldiers,” Ludo answered, “they’re being cared for. No casualties.”
“And any civilians?”
“If they wanted to hurt civilians,” Ludo grunted, “they would’ve bombed someplace else.”
“When did this happen?” he asked.
“Just before sunrise.”
“So, no one saw anything…”
“No one who wants to come forward.”
Wyatt blew a hard breath through pursed lips as he looked around, and though he could feel Ludo’s stare on him, he didn’t say anything. He needed to figure out what to do. He’d known it wouldn’t be easy to maintain order on the island, but he didn’t think it would result in this kind of violence, and especially not so quickly.
“This wouldn’t have happened with a curfew,” Ludo said. “I still think we should set one and start dropping people who insist on violating the law so severely.”
Wyatt ignored that and studied the top of the wall, contemplating how easily they could set up patrols along it instead of just having guards stand in place.
“ Admiral ,” Ludo insisted, “our most important job here is to make sure the miners can do theirs.”
“Not at the expense of peace,” Wyatt said.
“At any expense,” Ludo countered. “The people who are still here are dead already anyway. ”
“You’ve got a lot of nerve,” Carter spat, stepping forward and lurching to a stop when Wyatt grabbed the shoulder of his jacket.
“With all due respect, Admiral,” Ludo said, “I know who you are. I know you’re a damn good fighter and you’ve never lost a ship as long as you’ve been a chaperone. But you’re young. You haven’t been on the ground like I have. So take it under advisement when I tell you that there is no keeping the peace. Peace here is an illusion. When we’re almost done and these people finally realize there’s no hope of leaving, they’ll see that our ships are the only ones left, and they will resort to violence. It’s only a matter of time.”
“What are you suggesting?” Wyatt asked.
“That being heavy handed now, perhaps even ruthless, will save Sovereign lives later.”
Wyatt kept a firm grip on Carter’s coat as he said, “I’ll take it under advisement,” and then gently pulled Carter back so that he could let go. “In the meantime, I want patrols set up along the wall, and if we have the troops for it, enforce a wider perimeter around the outside.”
“Yes, Sir,” Ludo sighed. “But if there’s an organized resistance brewing on the island, we need to take care of it before it gets bigger. More people arrive in town from all over the island every day that will only add to its numbers.”
“I know,” Wyatt told him. “I agree. So we’re going to see what information we can track down.”
Ludo nodded, so Wyatt instructed Carter to follow him as they made their way back to Maple and Kip. They mounted and started along the road back toward town, and once they were out of earshot of anyone else, Carter asked, “What do you think will happen if the resistance gets bigger?”
“The miners’ lives could be in danger,” Wyatt answered. “They could try to start a war over the island. Everyone’s life could be in danger.”
“Don’t they realize that we’re not here to try and hurt anyone?”
Wyatt shook his head. “Isn’t it obvious, Carter? This isn’t like chaperoning merchant ships and defending against pirates whose only stake in the situation is that they want something that isn’t theirs.” He sighed, wringing the reins in his hands. “These people live here. The island belongs to them, and we’re here to take it.”
There was a long silence as Carter watched him, until Carter said quietly, “I trust you, Wyatt. If you don’t think we’re doing the right thing… ”
“All I’m trying to do is the right thing,” he said, and shut his eyes as he took in a deep breath. “As your commander, we’re doing our job.”
“And as my friend?”
He glanced at the sullen line of Carter’s mouth, considering it for a long moment before saying, “As a friend…” He sighed. “Six months is unethical.”
Carter nodded, and they ascended into the air and rode the rest of the way back to town in silence. Once they were there, Wyatt’s first thought was to try and figure out where the paint on the wall had come from. If they could find its origin, they might be able to get a lead on anyone in the resistance.
So he trotted Maple up to the nearest civilian in town and said, “Excuse me, Sir, can I ask you a question?”
“Piss off, dropper,” the man growled as he walked by, without stopping or so much as a glance up at Wyatt.
“Alright, then…” Wyatt mumbled.
He stopped Maple in the street to look around for someone else, but as soon as his eyes landed on someone and he pulled the reins in her direction, she turned and paced away. He did the same thing with the next person, and that woman also hurried away when she saw that he was looking at her.
It happened twice more before Carter whispered, “They hate us, Wyatt.”
Wyatt hummed, but even though they had every good reason to, he still had a job to do. “Young man,” he called, to the first person who didn’t shy away from his attention, a boy in his mid-teens. “Will you come here?”
The boy trudged over slowly, kicking a rock ahead of him until he reached them. “What do you want, bootlicker?”
“I’m looking for black paint,” he said, “do you know where I could find some?”
“Maybe,” the boy answered, and shrugged. “How bad do you need it?”
Wyatt’s brow quirked, and Carter supplied, “He wants money.”
“Information ain’t free,” the boy added.
“Ah,” Wyatt breathed in understanding, and offered, “five dominions. ”
“Twenty,” the boy countered. Carter scoffed at that, and the boy glared at him and said, “You know what tickets off island are running now? More than twenty, dropper.”
Carter didn’t say anything to that, just sighed and sank deeper into his saddle.
“Tell you what,” Wyatt said, “I’ll give you thirty if you can promise me good information.”
The boy’s eyes widened. “Really?” he asked, and Wyatt nodded as he took out his coins to retrieve thirty dominions. “Alright. Head into market district,” he pointed in the direction of port, “on Flight Road look for Hawkins General. The owner, Mr. Hawkins, hasn’t left island yet. Last I saw, he had paint in his shop.”
“Thank you,” Wyatt said, and lowered the coins in his hand to the boy’s level.
The boy picked them out of his palm and then ran off without saying anything else. They headed into the market district nearer to port and found Flight Road, and wandered past boarded windows and empty shops until they reached Hawkins General.
As they dismounted, Carter asked in a whisper, “Wyatt, are we here to make an arrest?”
“Not if we don’t have to,” Wyatt whispered back.
Carter nodded and they went inside, where a man in his early twenties looked up at them from behind the counter and then stood and straightened stiffly.
“Uh, can I-” He tossed a glance over his shoulder at a door that led deeper into the shop, through which the low rumble of muffled voices reached their ears. “Can I help you?”
Wyatt didn’t see any paint supplies on their way to the counter. “Are you Mr. Hawkins?”
“No, Sir,” the man answered, and tossed a thumb over his shoulder. “He’s in back. I’ll go and get him for you.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Carter said. “You can stay right there.”
“Alright,” the man said quietly.
“Why are you still in business?” Wyatt asked.
“Mr. Hawkins will be here as long as he’s got goods to sell.”
“Does that include paint?”
“Paint?” the man repeated, and Wyatt nodded. “As you can see, we don’t have any paint.”
“I do see that,” he agreed. “But have you sold any recently? ”
“No,” he said, shaking his head, “not recently. Haven’t sold any.”
Before Wyatt could say anything else, an older man stepped into the doorway and leaned against the trim. “Mitchell,” he said, and nodded behind him, “why don’t you go and finish packing up that box for me.” Mitchell left them without another word and hurried into the back, and the older man replaced him behind the counter. He stood there watching them for several long moments before asking, “Can I help you, fellas?”
“Are you Mr. Hawkins?” Wyatt asked. He hummed. “Have you sold any black paint recently?”
“Nope.”
“Do you have any paint in the shop?” Wyatt asked.
“Nope.”
“Do you mind if we search your establishment?”
“Yes, actually,” Mr. Hawkins said. “If you haven’t noticed, the folks around here don’t like you much, and by being in my shop, you’re hindering my business. Now, if you’re not going to purchase anything, I’d like you to leave.”
Wyatt looked around the shop one last time to see if there was anything immediately visible that he’d missed. There wasn’t, and the last thing he wanted to do was stir up unnecessary trouble. “Good day, Sir,” he told Mr. Hawkins, and turned for the door.
Carter followed him back outside, where he stopped on the porch and took a moment to think while he searched up and down the street.
“He’s lying,” Carter said quietly.
“Even I could see that,” Wyatt grunted and plopped down on the steps.
“What now?”
“I’m thinking,” he answered, and Carter sat down next to him. “Maybe we should head across the street and watch the shop for a while.”
“He’s not likely to do anything if we’re watching.”
“I know, but maybe someone will stop by who hasn’t seen us.” Wyatt reached out to grab the railing to pull himself to his feet, but stopped when his hand grabbed the wooden post and felt something unusual against his fingertips. He leaned closer, cocking his head to see the underside of the flat banister.
“What is it?” Carter asked .
Burned, branded, and hiding in the wood on the underside was the same symbol from the wall, and Wyatt jolted to his feet and spun around while Carter leaned closer to look. His eyes briefly met those of Hawkins through a window before they disappeared.
“He’s running! Go around back!” Wyatt threw himself toward the door. “Maple, Kip, up!”
He didn’t stop as their mounts shot into the air, and he burst through the door and sprinted toward that entrance to the back. He only slowed enough when he reached the doorway to make sure it was safe, but neither Mitchell or Hawkins were anywhere to be found, and the door at the rear exit of the shop swung shut. He ran past boxes and through the door to the alley behind the building right as Carter came around the corner, and they both looked left at where Hawkins was running farther down the way.
They took off after him, chasing him down the alley and around one corner and then another while their mounts followed from above. Wyatt wasn’t as fast as Carter, so he lost several paces as they blew past the next building, but they were both faster than Hawkins, and they were catching up. They flew by another crossroads in the alleys, and as Carter reached the next one first, he collided neck first into a stiff forearm that swung into his path.
He hit the ground on his back, and the hooded figure that had clotheslined him pointed a pistol down at him, but Wyatt got there right as he pulled the trigger. He threw himself shoulder first into the man’s chest, knocking his aim off as he fired the gun and taking him to the ground so hard that they both rolled several yards into the empty backroad.
But it wasn’t empty, not completely. Because as Wyatt shoved himself away from the hooded man, drawing his sword at the same moment that he reached his feet, he finally saw the five others. Mitchell, who must’ve run ahead to warn them, was amongst the group, but all he was doing was checking to make sure Hawkins could catch his breath.
“Carter, get up!” Wyatt said. “Draw your sword!”
While Carter coughed and struggled to his feet, one of the other hooded figures, a man with an extra wrapping around the lower half of his face, stomped over to the one Wyatt had tackled. He grabbed the shoulder of the man’s cloak and hauled him to his feet, and then yanked the pistol out of his hand. “That’s not the plan,” he growled, and threw the pistol into the dirt .
“What-” Carter coughed again, but he’d managed to reach his feet as he stood gasping for breath with his hands on his knees, one of them closed around the grip of his drawn sword. “What is the plan?”
“To show Anseau that he can’t just take any island he wants,” the man answered. “The people have help now.”
Carter asked, “Is that why you blew up the wall at the mines?”
The man in the hood said nothing.
“You’re going to get innocent people hurt,” Wyatt told him. “I’m the only thing standing between civilians and any officers keen on swift justice.”
“You mean Ludo,” the man said, and then fell silent for a minute behind the darkness of his hood. “Just how eager do you think he is for swift justice?” Wyatt’s head cocked. “What do you think he’s willing to do to justify it?”
“What are you saying?” Wyatt asked.
“You’re not implying Ludo set off that bomb,” Carter said.
“That’s exactly what I’m implying,” the man said.
“Why would he do that?” Wyatt asked.
“To justify a show of force,” the man answered. “To beat the civilians on this island into submission so he can kick his feet up until it drops.”
“Even if that were true,” Wyatt said, “he couldn’t punish everyone for the work of a rebel group.”
“Couldn’t he?” the man asked. “Everyone can look like an enemy when you don’t know who your enemy is.”
Wyatt didn’t know what to say to that, but there was some small part of him that couldn’t dismiss it.
“What about the paint, then?” Carter asked, and gestured at Mr. Hawkins. “Don’t tell me your man isn’t guilty of selling it.”
“We didn’t know who we were selling it to!” Hawkins protested.
“We’re supposed to believe it was a coincidence?” Carter said.
“How many shops did you see still open?” the man in the hood asked. “Would it be a far stretch to say that many of their owners are with us? Why else would they still be here?”
Carter huffed, and the man’s concealed face turned toward Wyatt as he said, “You seem to care more than Ludo does, so I’ll give you the chance to walk away, Mr. Kim.”
Wyatt’s brow furrowed. “Do I know you?”
“No,” he answered. “But I know your father.”
“You don’t know why Anseau needs this island,” Wyatt told him .
“To keep Glasoro from falling?” the man asked.
“What?” Carter breathed, staggering to Wyatt’s side.
“Tell me why Glasoro is more valuable than the four islands he’s harvesting,” the man said. “Tell me why his life is more valuable than that of every person who will die from this. Tell me why he shouldn’t be left behind.”
Wyatt didn’t say that it would be twelve islands total when all was finished. He just stood there, sword drawn and mouth shut because he still hadn’t even been able to convince himself that it was worth it. Still hadn’t been able to convince himself that evacuating Glasoro wasn’t the better option, and he was hard pressed not to consider the man’s suggestion that Emperor Anseau be left behind, especially since Peter had said it too.
“Once more,” the man said after several long moments of silence had passed, “walk away.”
“I can’t let you go if it’ll end in the deaths of my soldiers,” Wyatt said.
“You’re a pawn, Mr. Kim,” the man said, “and killing you would bring me no joy.”
And they stood there, staring at each other for a handful more of long, tense moments, until Wyatt stuck his fingers into his mouth and let out a shrill whistle. Maple and Kip plummeted out of the sky with purpose, slamming to the ground beside them and hissing at the hooded figures around them. As threatening as it was, the leader of the group didn’t shy away. He sighed, looked around at his companions, and drew a pistol from his belt to point it at them while the rest did the same.
“Last chance,” he said.
It might’ve been because he wasn’t willing to risk injury to himself, or Carter, or their mounts, or it might’ve been because his objection to the rebels’ cause was already halfhearted at best, but either way, Wyatt relented. He slid his sword back into its sheath and swung himself onto Maple’s back, setting his expression with feigned defiance while Carter mounted Kip. Then, without another word, they pulled up on the reins and shot into the air.
They didn’t say anything to each other either as Wyatt led them back to port. Nor while they returned their mounts to the stables, or headed onto the ship to the captain’s cabin, or through the door to Wyatt’s room. It wasn’t until the door was shut safely behind them and Wyatt had sat down at his desk with purpose that Carter finally spoke.
“Wyatt,” he murmured, “what’s going on? Why are we here? ”
Wyatt paused to stare down at the surface of his desk, and answered without looking up, “The emperor is cursed, and Glasoro will fall in five years.”
“He- Is that- But-” Carter stopped, thought about it for a minute, and said, “So he’s harvesting islands to keep Glasoro in the sky.”
Wyatt nodded without lifting his head and waited for Carter to say something else. He didn’t, so Wyatt said, “I was told that the population of Glasoro is greater than the twelve islands he’s harvesting put together.”
“ Twelve? ” Carter spat. “N-Not four?” Wyatt shook his head. “That’s not right,” he stammered. “If Glasoro will fall no matter what then he can’t just drop twelve other islands and sacrifice the people there instead. Not even if that means his life. It’s not right, Wyatt. Please, look at me. Look at me as your friend and tell me you know this isn’t right.”
Wyatt set his elbows on his desk, resting his chin on his thumbs while he folded his fingers over his nose and mouth. He forced his eyes upward and managed to meet Carter’s panicked gaze for three seconds before staring at his nose. “I know,” he whispered.
Carter swallowed hard, paced back and forth a couple times, and then stopped in front of the desk. “What do we do?”
Wyatt didn’t answer right away. He just sat there with his chin in his hands, tapping his heel against the floor and regretting the fact that he’d accepted the assignment in the first place. Because it wasn’t right and he did know it, but he didn’t know what that meant. He didn’t know what to do about it.
“Wyatt?”
“I don’t know,” he answered. “I just… We’re a chaperone crew, we shouldn’t… I shouldn’t have brought us here in the first place.”
“The people here are tense,” Carter said, and Wyatt nodded. “Do you think they’ll fight back? Do you think the rebels will start a war?”
“It’s possible.”
“I don’t want to fight them, Wyatt,” Carter replied, hurrying forward and squatting down in front of the desk to be at eye level with him. “They should defend themselves, and Ludo is so jaded it’s like he wants the fight. Maybe he is behind the explosion at the mines. And I don’t want to fight anyone. Not here.”
Wyatt glanced toward the door and said quietly, “Keep your voice down.”
“Sorry,” Carter whispered .
“I don’t want to fight them either,” Wyatt said. “And I don’t want to lose any of our crew if it comes to that.” He let out a heavy sigh. “But if we show any signs of dissent, or if we withdraw our ship, they’ll label us deserters. My father won’t protect us.”
“I can’t even believe we’re having this conversation,” Carter murmured. “Can you write to your father, and tell him you made a mistake?”
“If I did that,” he said seriously, “he’d disown me. He might even sanction a demotion from captain. I wouldn’t put it past him to reset my career entirely…”
Carter let out a hard breath. “What should we do? Can we even tell the crew about this?”
“No,” Wyatt answered. “But we should withdraw them to the docks. Whether or not Ludo’s responsible for the explosion at the mines, things are closer to escalating than we thought. We at least need to defend our ship if a fight breaks out.”
“Right,” Carter agreed.
“You and I will go back out and find them,” he said, “we’ll tell them to return to the docks, quietly and without saying anything to anyone else.”
Carter hummed and set his arms on the edge of the desk to rest his chin on them. “And the symbol at the shop?” he asked. “Should we tell anyone about it?”
He forced himself to meet Carter’s gaze one more time, thinking about what it would mean for the rebellion if they gave away the secret they’d discovered. “No,” he said. “No, I don’t think we should.”
The grim line of Carter’s mouth pulled just the slightest bit to one corner as he nodded. “I’m with you,” he whispered, nodding again as he stood. “I’m with you.”