Chapter 24
Chapter
Twenty-Four
In his dream, Augustus stood on the deck of the Akias, a boy of eight, a small thing in a world where everything in it was made for giants. When every day was new and exciting. There were ropes for swinging and miles of decks to run upon. He could climb to the top of the world here.
On this day, Augustus clung to the railing and scanned the horizon. The setting sun bathed the sea in gold, and the waves rocked the ship with unusual gentleness.
Mettius leaned on his elbows, head bent toward Augustus, a spark of light in his brown eyes. He pointed toward the horizon. “You see that, Gus? The world opens up just there. No bars, no borders. No walls. Just the sea, stretching as far as you can imagine.”
And Augustus saw it all with fresh eyes. In this place, there were no limits. “It’s so big,” he said, voice full of awe. “How do you know where to go?”
Mettius ruffled his hair. “A good captain always knows, but sometimes…” He crouched until they were at eye level, and his tone turned conspiratorial. “Sometimes the sea takes you places you won’t expect. That’s the real adventure.”
Augustus’s question rushed to get out, his eyes growing wide. “Will there be sea monsters?”
His father belted a laugh. “Oh, aye. Great big ones.”
“And treasure?”
“Of course.”
Augustus leaned forward, hiding his next question behind the wall of his hand—only his father could hear this one. “Are there more scary girls out there like Momma?”
Mettius barked a laugh. “Maybe, if you’re lucky, there might be one more left for you.”
Augustus scrunched his nose. “I think I want some treasure instead.”
“If you find her, Gus, she’ll be the only treasure that matters.”
A young Blaze came sprinting up and snatched his hand. “It’s time, Augustus!” Then, in a tone as deep as a man’s. “It’s time, Augustus.”
The voice jerked Augustus back to his cabin aboard the Entia, his mother’s desk spread before him and his back in knots from sleeping bent over it all night.
Blaze cupped his shoulder. “It’s time.”
“Time for what?” Gods, he sounded like he’d been eating sand all night. Tasted like it, too.
The Ranger perched on the desk, hands folded on his thigh, and squinted into the early dawn light. “Omar said it’s time we weigh anchor. There wasn’t much left to salvage. I thought you might want to…”
Say goodbye, Augustus thought. The Akias wasn’t coming with them, and who would want to sail it after that?
“Where’s Lili?” he asked.
“We finally got her back here an hour ago. She’s not doing well, Augustus.”
She wouldn’t be. Not for a long time. What Thorne did to her father—to the entire crew—wasn’t right. She should never have had to see Loto like that.
Pain ripped through him, fresh and hot. Loto had been a good, kind man. His laugh… No one laughed like him. Punched like him, either, but it was his laugh Augustus always thought of first.
“Were there any barrels of tar left?” he asked.
“I think so.”
Augustus gathered a small handful of men and women on his return trip to the Akias. Hammer, Sharp, and Stitch were the first to follow, who then collected Hawk, Spark, and Swift once they understood what they were doing. Without being asked, Oskar and the Blades came as well.
He pointed to several key areas on the decks, and then he and Blaze took a pair of empty crates each into the captain’s quarters.
Augustus wished he had more time to go through Mettius’s things.
He could hardly guess what valuables his father treasured, but he tried.
The few things Mettius had kept of Cassia’s seemed obvious and went into the crate first. Then his clothes.
After that, his grandfather’s kris knife, the false eye of Anir, and the lost jewel of Zaris from Mettius’s desk.
There was an old wood carving of a sea snake on a shelf inside Mettius’s bed chamber that brought Augustus up short. Augustus had carved it years ago—it was as ugly as he remembered. He thought he’d thrown it away…
Augustus dropped it into the crate and continued on. Journals and logbooks followed. Weapons Mettius had always favored. Sometimes, doubt crept in; Augustus was wasting his time doing this. Thorne might be keeping his father alive now, but—
No. He refused to believe this was the end.
On the upper decks, Omar’s wife, Storm, and her sister, North Star, took the crates from Augustus and Blaze.
“We’re all set,” Storm said, then gave a pointed nod toward the mainmast.
Omar passed axes, hammers, and pry bars down a line of his family and friends. Bee, Rook, Fish, and a fourth girl they called Bloom, showed up last. To these four, Omar said, “Make a mess of it.”
And so, they did. Barrels burst open all over the deck, spilling tar on the stained wood.
Blaze watched it all from Augustus’s side, arms folded. “Where to after this?”
“Okos. I’ll drop you lot off, then—”
“We’re going with you.” Blaze’s gaze shifted to where his Rangers watched everything from atop the railing on the Entia by the starboard shrouds. “It appears they’ve had a change of heart.”
“What about the monsters you’re all so desperate to get back to hunting?”
“Turns out men can be monsters, too.”
A half-hour later, Lili handed Augustus a lit lantern from atop the gangplank between ships. Tears streamed from her eyes, but she gave him a firm nod. “Light it up, Captain.”
He gave the deck a final sweep. Nothing remained. Nothing to say goodbye to.
The past was gone.
And yet, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He thought he could—
The dronsian sailed past Augustus on the wind with a pained roar, a sound he hadn’t yet heard from him. The anguish in his cry mirrored the pain in his own chest.
The little beast flew in, out, and around the Akias’s deck and masts, then paused over the forecastle, wings flapping.
“What’s he doing?” Lili asked.
“I don’t know.”
A tiny flame burped from the dronsian’s mouth, then a full stream struck a cracked barrel with tar leaking from its side.
An inferno burst into existence, and the crew of the Entia gave a collective gasp.
“Did you know he could do that?” Lili asked.
“No.”
He didn’t. But gods, he was grateful.
The dronsian flapped down into place on Augustus’s shoulder and squawked.
“You’ve been hiding a few things, Little Gus,” he said.
The new nickname startled him. He hadn’t meant to say it, but somehow it felt right. Like something Mettius might’ve said.
The dronsian swept a wet tongue up Augustus’s cheek.
“Seriously?” Augustus groaned. “You ruin everything.”
With a final glance at the spreading inferno, Augustus turned and gave it his back.
“Weigh anchor,” he shouted ahead. “Get us the fuck out of here.”
Dimitrios stepped into the courtyard, past the high stone walls etched with scars from a long history of battles. Banners in blue and silver flapped from long poles overhead. The air was thick with sweat, leather, metal, and earth.
Soldiers marched or sparred in different sections, armor gleaming under the full, harsh sun. Weapons clattered, sharp commands barked, and the rhythmic stomp of boots told Dimitrios one thing was certain: Perean might be without a ruler, but it would never be without its protection.
He entered the cool corridors of the command building and found the office he wanted on the top floor—it used to belong to the Supreme Commander. Now, it belonged to the next highest-ranking officer in Perean.
High, arched windows faced the entire courtyard, and the man Dimitrios had sought stood at one of them, hands clasped behind his back, shoulders straight despite his years.
Alexis Pateras was tall and lean, his himation a deep navy with silver accents that caught the light.
Trimmed white hair crowned his head like a laurel wreath.
“General Pateras?”
The man turned at the waist. “My Lord. What can I do for you?” His tone was deep, measured. It rang like iron on stone.
Any other man might have stumbled at the general’s overall presence. Dimitrios didn’t have time for that. “Titos Demakis is coming for Perean.”
The general’s mouth twitched. “You don’t mince words, do you?”
He strode toward his desk and sat, his every move one of purpose. Calm authority. His face was clean-shaven, angular, and deeply lined from years of battle and duty. His eyes, however, were piercing and thoughtful. Alert.
Once Pateras had settled, he said, “I’m listening.”
Good. This would make going forward easier.
Dimitrios opened the leather pouch at his side and produced the Sotteran king’s missives to Leonidas. “Everything you need to know is here.” He dropped them on the desk. “Ideas, suggestions, orders, all from Titos Demakis.”
Pateras lifted the nearest fold of parchment. “To whom?”
“Leonidas Primakos.”
Surprise flashed across the general’s face and erased any doubt Dimitrios had coming into this meeting. There was no way of knowing who Leonidas had in his pocket, and Dimitrios couldn’t afford to go through every man in command of his military to weed them out.
He spent the next half hour describing the more important details within those letters and how he came to be in possession of them.
Pateras listened to every word without interruption until the very last truth was spilled. “After everything, to walk in here and tell me all of this…” The general shook his head. “I could be a traitor, and you a fool for revealing yourself.”
Nikolas had vouched for him. But there was something even more assuring. “You rode with my father, I hear.”
Pateras paused, then lowered his chin in a half nod. “I did. He was a good man.”
“I want to believe he was a good judge of character.”
The general’s stone expression cracked. “He was. But what sort of man are you, and how exactly do you think you can help here? You’re not a military man. You weren’t raised in our lands. You weren’t even trained for your role as king.”
Dimitrios looked forward to the day when these men stopped questioning his ability to use his own mind. “You’ve fortified all our key border strongholds? Mountain passes and river crossings?”
Here, the general hesitated. “All but one. We lost contact with a unit in the north some time ago.”
Dimitrios had vague recollections of the conversation between Nektarios and Leonidas, and something about this tickled at the memory—something about an abandoned outpost, and an entire unit of men who vanished.
“They never turned back up?”
Pateras shook his head. “What do you know about it?”
Dimitrios briefly recounted what he recalled about that conversation, but it had been weeks since, and he was still trying to put the pieces together. Hard to do without all the context. “Should we be worried?”
“They’re likely deserters. I’ve combed through Tassatos’s orders—there’s nothing there to suggest he had anything to do with them, even if it was via Leonidas’s command.”
“The orders could be unofficial.”
“True.” The general rolled his shoulders. “And if they were, how should I respond? I don’t know where these men are, nor do I have the resources to waste on chasing them down.”
Dimitrios exhaled, then nodded. “You’re right. We have to focus on what we know.”
If only that removed his concern. What were those men’s orders, and who will be affected? There was potential blowback, and he wanted to be ready for it.
At the same time, Soterra was on his doorstep, and he knew where to find them. This enemy, at least, stood in the light.
He even had a plan. “I’d like to build up the supply caches in border strongholds to sustain our men in case of a prolonged siege. Including the one up north. Until we know otherwise, those men are to be considered deserters.”
Pateras’s chin lifted. “I already have a unit headed that way. What else?”
“Form several cavalry units to hit Soterra’s supply caravans.”
Pateras froze. “You want to attack Soterran caravans?”
“I want us to stop pretending like he’s the bigger threat. Orestis might have weakened our Navy, but our ground forces are still intact and more than capable of reminding Titos Demakis who he’s been playing with.
“Keep the attacks small and fast. Bleed them slowly until they’re dry.”
A corner of the general’s mouth twitched up. “Let’s break out the tactical maps.”
Dimitrios exchanged ideas with Pateras for several hours, the two standing over naval charts and geographical maps. Pateras used carved wooden pieces to represent different military units, and colored markers to indicate factions, allies, or enemy forces.
It was immediately clear that Dimitrios made the right choice in coming here. The general thought of several things on the spot to bolster and enhance the few ideas Dimitrios already had.
There would be trap and ambush sites set up wherever there was a natural chokehold on the mountain passes.
Pateras named several people he trusted for the task of rooting out any further traitors under Titos’s control, and later, if necessary, they would infiltrate the Soterran court itself.
Harbor defenses would need to be reinforced, and local alliances would be formed with the surrounding territories.
And that was only the start.
When he was finally exhausted of words, Dimitrios dropped into the nearest chair and let his muscles relax. He’d done it. He’d stepped up, and it was both frightening and exhilarating at the same time.
Pateras smiled. “I’m impressed. Dare I say, your father would be, too.”
“Maybe now you have an idea of the sort of man I am and who I can be if given the chance.”
“I think so, yes.”
Dimitrios rose. “I’ll leave you to it, then. And thank you for seeing me. I know you’re a busy man.”
The general grunted in response.
Dimitrios paused. “I’m going to need a new Supreme Commander.”
“Yes.” Pateras folded his hands together. “I hope whoever you choose is ready for such a title—it comes with many burdens. Not just battles, but decisions he or she may never be forgiven for.”
“Would you like the job?”
A wide smile swathed a path across his face. “I believe I would, Your Majesty. I believe I would.”