Harbinger: Fate's Forsaken: Book One (53 page)

A battle Kael
was leading them into. One that, if things went wrong, might cause many of them
to never see their families again. Guilt slid between his ribs like a knife.

“What have I
done?”

“Done? Nothing,
yet,” Morris answered him. He’d taken the helm for the trip south. It was only
a day’s journey to the Duke’s castle, but in order to avoid being spotted by
his fleet, they had to stay close to land. Which made the water a great deal
more treacherous.

Kael nerves
started to push back into his limbs. “I can’t ask the men to do this. I can’t
ask them to risk their lives again.”

Morris snorted.
“Aye, ‘cause asking wouldn’t do you a splinter of good. Every man here
volunteered for the fight. In fact, I hear there were so many volunteers that
the captain had to cast lots just to keep it fair.”

Kael didn’t
believe him. “Why?”

“Because they
want freedom for their region! They put their names on this list in particular
because they believe in your plan,” he poked a nub in the center of his chest,
“because they believe in
you
.”

Kael suddenly
felt a mix of emotions that he blamed entirely on the grog. “Well, they
shouldn’t. I didn’t ask them to.”

Morris smiled
just widely enough to reveal the gaps in his teeth. “Belief is a burden, lad.
It’s something put on you, not something you put on. Speaking of,” he propped
one flap of his coat open, “I’ve got something for you — it’s tucked
right in that inner pocket. Took me half an afternoon to pull it out of the
drawer, and another half to wedge it in my coat. So if you want it sometime
today, you’ll have to get it yourself.”

Kael reached
into the pocket and pulled out what looked to be a small leather wallet. But
when he opened it, it wasn’t coin he found: there were rows of knives lining
either flap.

They were small,
only about the length of his palm and made out of single pieces of steel. He
could tell by the many hairline scratches that covered their surface that they
were well used. Yet the points still looked sharp enough to split stubble.

“Those were from
a friend of mine,” Morris said. He tugged gently on the wheel, steering them
around a sharp clump of rocks. “It was right after the War ended. He gave these
to me and said it was because a Seer told him to, said his warring days were
over. Ha!” He shook his head, his smile etched in sorrow.

“Morris, I
couldn’t —”

“Sure you can.”
He waved his arm impatiently. “I think he’d be proud to know a Wright was using
them. They’re perfectly balanced, see — won’t cost you hardly anything to
throw them straight. And that wallet folds over, too. You can strap it to your
arm and no one would even know you had it.”

Kael worked the
buckles around his upper left arm and showed it to Morris.

“There you are,
lad,” he said with a grin. “Now you look the part.”

*******

Surprisingly
enough, Geist seemed pleased by his new weapons. When Kael went down to the brig
to change into his disguise, he glanced at his arm and mumbled: “Those will be
much more effective than a hunting dagger, I’m sure. Now — let’s get you
into your belly.”

It took an hour
to apply all the paste, stuffing, paint and false hair to Kael’s body. When
Geist was finished, he held up a small hand mirror for approval.

A fat, sallow
old merchant blinked back at him. Kael could hardly believe it. “Geist … it’s
amazing.”

“You approve?”

He nodded, and
grimaced when he saw how his chins wobbled with the motion. “I’m disgusting
myself.”

“Perfect. That
should keep anyone from wanting to talk to you.”

His work was
astonishing, no doubt about it. But Kael did have one final concern: “What
about the real Colderoy? How are you going to keep him from showing up?”

“There is a
particular inn he likes to dine at before he attends these parties,” Geist
said, packing up his trunk with sloth-like grace as he spoke. “Apparently, he’s
fond of the keeper’s mince pies. Tonight, however, he and Margaret will
contract a rather disturbing stomach condition shortly after their meals
— one that I suspect will keep them busy well into the following day.
Colderoy will write to the Duke, explaining his absence. But unfortunately, his
letter will never arrive.”

“Because you’re
going to lose it?”

Geist shook his
head. “Not me, dear boy. A rather bungle-headed courier with a b — bit of
a st — stutter will be to blame.”

*******

It was sundown
when
Anchorgloam
stopped at a certain
bend in the shoreline — one with a large boulder shaped like an eagle’s
crown sticking out from the water. Lysander arranged for a rowboat to be let
down and accompanied them to shore.

Aerilyn’s
disguise was as beautiful as his was revolting. Geist had labored over her
curls, twirling each one into a perfect golden-brown ring. He’d painted her
lips and the tops of her eyes to give her smile near insurmountable allure
— not that it was really necessary. The red dress she wore was more than
inviting.

Lysander seemed
unable to keep his eyes off of her. They pulled onto the beach and he nearly
tripped over his own boots in his rush to be the one to help her out of the
boat.

Since he was
obviously so preoccupied, Kael let out a low whistle into the tree line,
signaling for Chaucer and his men to come on.

Three carriages
rolled promptly out to meet them, pulled along by horses that looked to be the
clean-cut, stern image of their master. “It’s about time,” Chaucer snapped as
he burst from the door of the first cart. “You had me waiting out in this heat
for a good half-hour. I was about to have to lead us around in circles just to
get some air …” His lip curled at the sight of Kael. “Excellent work, Geist. I
can hardly stand the look of him.” Then he settled his gaze on Aerilyn. “Very
lovely. Lovely, indeed.”

“Take those
appraising eyes off of her,” Lysander growled, which drew a smirk from Chaucer.

“Just make sure
your toy boat is ready to do battle,
Captain
.”
He straightened his already-straight coat hems and marched back towards his
carriage. “Move, all of you!” he barked from his window. “We haven’t got time
for weak knees — the hands are turning.”

Lysander hurled
a clump of wet sand at his carriage as he rolled away. It stuck to the back
window with a
thawp
. “For all his
talk of weak knees, you’d think he’d actually be doing something,” he muttered.

Kael turned to
bid Geist farewell, and saw that the third carriage was already rolling away.
His traveler’s chest was secured to the back of it.

“Promise me
you’ll be safe,” Lysander begged as he helped Aerilyn in after Kael. “Don’t go
anywhere alone with him —”

“I’m not an
idiot. I’m well aware of Reginald’s reputation,” she said haughtily.

“Just promise,
will you?”

“Why?”

He looked up at
her from under the waves of his hair. “Because it would set my heart at ease.”

Something
strange passed between them — and it made Kael slightly uncomfortable.

“Very well,”
Aerilyn said after a moment. “I promise not to leave the ballroom.”

“Thank you.
Gravy guard your path, my friends. Fate willing, we’ll meet again.” He slammed
the door shut — hard — and marched back to the rowboat without a
backwards glance.

The carriage
ride was bumpy and insufferably hot. Geist had packed his clothes in with so
many layers of stuffing that Kael thought he was in real danger of boiling
alive. They kept the curtains drawn over their windows, just incase. It
wouldn’t do for the same villagers who witnessed Colderoy arriving earlier that
day to witness him again.

At first, the
dirt of the road muffled the movement of the wheels. Then they struck cobblestone,
and the horses clattered smartly across it. When the road sounded hollow,
broken every now and then by a rhythmic
thump
,
Aerilyn began twisting her hands nervously.

“We must be on
the bridge,” she whispered.

Which meant they
had less than a mile left to go. “Don’t chew on your lip,” he said, and she
stopped immediately.

“You’re right
— no one wants to dance with a girl who already has bite marks,” she said
with a nervous laugh. Then quite suddenly, she reached across and grabbed both
of his hands. “Tell me it’s going to be all right, Kael. Tell me it’s all going
to work out.”

He wasn’t a
Seer: he couldn’t know for sure. Their bodies might adorn the castle walls by
morning. But that was his burden, not hers. So he took her hands and squeezed
them tightly. “Everything’s going to be fine, Aerilyn. I promise.”

To see the
relief on her face made his stomach sink down to his knees. Now the plan had to
work, they
had
to succeed. So many
people were depending on it. As the carriage stopped and the doors swung open,
he steeled himself for what must be done.

*******

“Charmed,
Jefferies,” Reginald said through his grin, thought it was no great secret to
either of them that he wasn’t charmed — he was actually rather peeved.
And he made that abundantly clear.

“So — ah
— good to see you,” Jefferies gasped, as Reginald crushed his fingers.
“Always a delight.”

“Isn’t it?”
Reginald didn’t let go. In fact, he squeezed harder. “Though I think it might
have been a great deal more delightful if my chairs weren’t in such dismal
shape. If only that shipment from D’Mere had come through, you all might have
had something a little nicer to plant your rumps in.”

Sweat beaded up
on Jefferies’ brow, his smile slipped ever closer to a grimace. “Yes, bloody
pirates and all that. I’ll see to it that you have a new set in three —
ah,
two
weeks!”

“See to it that
you do,” Reginald said. He turned his smile to the woman standing behind
Jefferies and extended his hand. “Accidents happen everyday, I’m well aware of
that.” He kissed the back of her silk glove and released her.

Jefferies, thick
as he was, was no fool. He caught Reginald’s threat and his face went white.
“It will be done, Sir Duke. I’ll double the guard and I won’t lose another
shipment this quarter, you’ll see.” Then he hurried off, dragging his wife
behind him.

Chaucer was next
to step up. He bowed, made some drab remark about the décor and stomped inside.
Reginald ignored his rudeness. He might host twice as many parties next year,
simply for the pleasure of making Chaucer furious.

At the sight of
his next guest, Reginald’s grin fell away, replaced immediately by a snarl:

Colderoy.

That fat waste
had no business at such a grand event. From his stubby legs to that hideous,
food-stained mustache — he clashed horrifically with the golden grace of
the ball. If he hadn’t had such a brilliant mind for numbers, Reginald would
have sent him to the gallows long ago.

Well that, and
the fact that he had yet to find a rope thick enough to support a man of
Colderoy’s girth.

“Good to see
you,” Reginald said halfheartedly as Colderoy bounced towards him. “I was
beginning to wonder —”

“Good ephening,
Sir Duke,” Colderoy interrupted. He wore a bright yellow tunic that made him
look more like a bread roll than a man. “Lophly night, is it not?”

Reginald glanced
up at the stars — anything to spare his eyes from the atrocity before
him. “I suppose —”

“You haphen’t
met my daughter, haph you?”

“No, I don’t
think —”

“May I present
Miss Margaret Colderoy.”

It was the
strangest twist of fortune Reginald had ever seen, that Colderoy should have
fathered such a flawless creature. He kissed Margaret’s hand, never once taking
his eyes off her face. “My dear, I’m truly charmed. The sun pales in
comparison.”

She blushed,
which he liked very much. “Please, Sir Duke, I’m unworthy of such a
compliment.”

“On the contrary
— though words are hardly enough to celebrate it. I hope you’ll save me a
dance.” He flashed a grin, and her blush deepened.

“I’m sure she
will,” Colderoy butted in. “Now mophe along, Margaret. The Duke is a busy man.”

Reginald didn’t
say anything to the next manager; he didn’t even look at him. He was far too
busy admiring Margaret’s figure as she climbed the steps into the castle. Oh
yes, tonight the dancing would be especially good.

He rushed
through the last few greetings and then ordered the guards to close the front
gates, locking the managers and their carriages inside. No one left until the
party ended — which would happen the minute he got bored.

“There’s a fog
creeping in from the west,” one of the guards called down.

Reginald
couldn’t see the ocean from where he stood, and he wasn’t interested in
climbing all the way up the stairs to look. “Tell the patrol to weigh anchor
until it clears. There’s no point in trying to hold their routes —
they’re more likely to run into each other than catch any intruders.”

The guard took a
pair of torches off the wall and used them to relay the message. When he was
finished, a chorus of bells rang out from across the sea. The patrol
understood.

Reginald closed
the front doors himself, locking them tightly with his personal key. Then he
strode purposefully towards the music that floated out from his ballroom.

It didn’t take
him long to find Margaret — even in an ocean of beauty, she would have
stood out. He watched her first waltz, and her grace astounded him. Her dress
swept along behind her as Colderoy guided her through the steps. He didn’t know
which was more astonishing: Margaret, or the fact that her father could
actually dance.

“I’m ready when
you are, Sir Duke.” Bartimus stepped in front of him, blocking his view.