Adversaries Together (24 page)

“
Home is where you feel
most comfortable.” He spoke deliberately, but not in a lecturing
tone, “For you, that is Havan. Unfortunately, demands are made of
you that keep taking you farther away from it.” He sounded almost
lamenting.

“
They are not demands. I
chose this for my own reasons.”

Cochrane gazed at Towsend, “I know. Thank
you.”

“
Thank me once it’s
accomplished. Until then…”

Standing abruptly, Cochrane turned and stared
again into the night, “Yes. Until then…”

“
Go patrol or…whatever…I
know you’re itching to be active.” Towsend waved him off into the
night, and he obliged, disappearing almost immediately. Towsend
inched closer to the fire, threw on another few branches, and then
lay down pulling a canvas sheet over himself.

Cochrane spent hours out in the arid
landscape. At first, he went far out from camp to walk along the
dunes and survey the vast Aral. The desert air was thin but wet
somehow. Cochrane felt a thin layer of condensation forming on his
skin and clothes. As he walked, his boots sunk into the cool sand
with a satisfying evenness. Eventually, he made his way back to
their camp but kept it as a distant flicker, a small, yellow glint,
as he swept a wide perimeter around it. Thus far, he had
encountered a few animals but nothing dangerous. It was the small
hours now and soon dawn would begin to creep.

It would be unwise to have Towsend awake
alone, he thought. He began to circle toward the yellow light
steadily spiraling closer to it. To the south, the first evidence
of Lappala was perhaps a day’s journey. Maybe less than that, they
were close now as the soft orange dome of light in the distance
suggested. He had no doubts about Towsend’s ability or about his
own strength, but what did concern him was he had no idea just what
exactly they were walking into. Lappalans, Burrowers in northern
slang, were relatively unknown.

When the first explorers crossed the
mountains and found the desert, they expected to find nothing. The
belief was that this southern desert was the compliment to the far
north barren deserts of snow. Many were unsatisfied with this
orthodoxy, especially the Silvincians. They were the first to not
only cross the Ragan Mountains, but also go deep into The Aral. At
first, what few cities or settlements they encountered were long
ago abandoned ruins thousands of years old. The only boon to come
from their poking around those ruins was a dimwitted understanding
of the glyph-like Aralese language and the first encounter with
bithumin.

When they brought back the thick, black rock,
not as firm as real stone but no kind of clay, no one really much
cared. It could be set on fire and for a long time this was merely
a harlequin’s trick to amuse crowds of common folk. The Essians
were the first to discover bithumin could be ground down to a
powder, mixed to a thick liquid, and then refined by their
mysterious methods into a miracle working fertilizer that tripled
the yield of good earth and made poor dirt rich. More was needed,
and the explorers and merchants pushed through the hard desert to
find Lappala, the source of all bithumin.

The Essians settled Wick with their Adrenine
allies as a port to link Lappalan caravans to the sea trade. The
city quickly became a de facto independent nation as its importance
grew. The route between Wick and Rikonen became the most vital sea
route in the world, and with its new resource, Essia became flushed
with wealth. The rest of the north had to continue to trek over the
Ragans leading to the discovery of the Ashka Sea, the odd city of
Dyce, and the far eastern metropolis of Tegna, a sprawling city
that was built over the meeting of three rivers. They brought small
amounts of bithumin back with them but it took a long time and
barely made the trip profitable.

Yet with the whole world coming to them, the
Lappalans didn’t need to leave their city, they just needed to keep
digging. There were roads going out of the city but very few going
into it. A bizarrely secretive people, they rebuffed ambassadors
and had nothing but contempt for foreigners—yet they gladly sold
their black ore for gold coin. Cochrane had never been this far
south, he was sure Towsend hadn’t either.

Progress will be
slow
, he thought,
we must be patient. More patient than we’ve ever
been
.

Finally, Cochrane arrived back at the
campfire to see Towsend still covered in his gray canvas cloak
looking like a boulder. The fire had waned and the sky was
beginning to color. The desert, The Aral, in the morning was a
gorgeous thing—vibrant, vivid, textured, and soft. By mid-morning
all that would have burned away, replaced by unrelenting light, a
light that would infect everything with a bleaching heat. He gently
nudged Towsend with his boot, “We must move.”

Towsend threw off the cloak suddenly and
violently. In one swift motion he stood and was walking folding his
cloak and stowing it away in his pack. He yawned and stretched his
arms out above and behind his back, “Yes, I’ve been waiting for
you.” Cochrane smiled and the two continued into the heart of The
Aral.

The Blockade of Rikonen,
15
^th
of Mabon

The string of triremes locked together from
one coast to the other choked the bay. At shore level, it stretched
out beyond sight, but up in these hills Roth could see it in its
entirety. It had been here for nearly four years, over a thousand
days. At first, the closing-off of the sea route was a bold
inconvenience for Rikonen and Essia. It wasn’t a worry, since the
fields behind Rikonen were the breadbasket of the region. They had
stores and they had the highroads to and from Paraonen and
Heveonen. Then the drought came and the red, lavender, black, and
golden fields died. There was talk of the earth going bad, of the
bithumin running out leaving the fields bereft of fertilizer, there
was even talk of some kind of Silvincian sabotage. What it came
down to was the other cities of Essia couldn’t spare any food for
Rikonen. The Blockade and the land behind them refusing to yield
any crops conspired to turn the city in on itself. The roads
closed, consumed by the great sandstorms of the drought. The city
was forgotten by their countrymen, forgotten by all except for The
Cathedral and the Seven Spires.

Roth surveyed the chain of ships with Reg at
his back on his horse, “Even overland it won’t be easy to get in
there.”

“
No,” Roth squinted and
shaded his eyes, “But these aren’t long campaign soldiers. Even
with new marines, most of these troops have been here longer than
they’d like.”

“
What does that give
you?”

“
It means there’s a black
trade network.”

“
Well, all I remember about
Silvincian soldiers is that whores and plague follow in their
wake.” Reg spat.

“
And you can see that in
the bay.” Roth nodded towards the bay, which was clearly filled
with putrid water. Reg snickered, dismounted, and came to stand
next to Roth.

Roth pointed to the landing on the coast
where several long piers came out to meet three triremes, “What do
you think? About fifteen hundred spans out?”

“
No, less. Probably more
like a thousand, but those ships probably add another five. So,
yeah, sure.”

“
That’s the point where new
ships come. Probably another on the far shore.”

“
So you think that’s where
your black trade is?”

“
Probably. The
quartermasters will be the ones in control of any side trade and
that’s where supplies would come in to be distributed through the
chain.”

“
You think they sold the
girl? You think she’s on some floating whore house?”

“
She seemed far too
valuable to him to simply sell as a flesh-slave. But who knows what
he would do once he got whatever it was he wanted from
her.”

Reg gestured along the hill line, “It’s be
easier—well, less hassle anyway—for us to head along the crests
around through the ruined fields.”

Roth nodded agreeing but said, “That’d be too
far, too roundabout.”

“
You want to instead just
try to break The Blockade and sail into the harbor?”

“
No,” Roth raised his hand
again to shade his eyes, “I don’t want to break The
Blockade”

“
So how do you suggest we
get into the city?”

“
We walk the
plank.”

Reg blinked, “Wait. What?”

“
I don’t want to break the
siege or wander through the city. I mean to travel the length of
the chain.”

“
That makes no sense. The
girl won’t be there.”

“
No, but the black trade
will certainly take me to where the pirate was going. Maybe even
where he is.”

“
How do you even know that
he’s still here? He could well have sailed off ages
ago.”

“
He’ll still be here.
Unloading the marines on the ship and the supplies takes time, and
he’ll definitely be taking on tired troops and pulling them from
throughout the chain will take longer. He’s still here. But his
ship is on the other shore.”

“
So you mean to march there
on The Blockade ships?”

“
It’s a near perfect
bridge.”

“
You look nothing like a
Silvincian soldier.”

“
Ah, but I probably look
quite a lot like a rowhand.”

“
Think they just let rowers
wander from boat to boat, do you? Even if we ignore the fact that
every ship knows its crew”

“
Officers and soldiers
don’t give rowhands a second glance. Rowhands get changed out as
well as the soldiers; it’ll be enough to get me along.” Roth turned
and winked at Reg, “I’m rather slick when I want to be.”

Roth mounted his horse as Reg continued to
stare at The Blockade, shaking his head slightly, “Well, you’re not
dead yet.”

“
Exactly.”

16
^th
of Mabon

“
Deckhand!” The Silvincian
commander yelled as the crew ignored his bellow, “Deckhand! Damn
it, who’s in charge on this scow?”

Several of the crew paused at the word ‘scow’
and greeted the marine with spit and contempt. The crew was in the
business of prep, they were leaving The Blockade and no one wanted
to stop what they were doing to service some petty legionnaire.

“
You’d sound less of a fool
if you called the Kopis a cog,” The commander turned to see Riv,
“Why not just go with frigate in the future, soldier.”

“
Sergeant Kerr, to you
trader.”

The sergeant slurred his last word so it
sounded more like ‘traitor’ and Riv had to chuckle to himself. “I
take it you’re here about the company we’re to ferry back to
Anhra.”

“
Forty men.”

“
So we were
told.”

“
We’re here
now.”

“
Took your time walking the
plank, as any normal man would.” Riv needled the sergeant who
clenched his jaw. The soldier gestured behind him and called out,
“Lance Carrick, have the men fall in and follow this…”

“
First Mate,” Riv nodded at
the underling, “You can call me Riv, Carrick. Have your men line up
and head down the stairs.” He gestured to the doorway at the
forecastle.

“
And they’ll find what?”
The sergeant barked.

“
They’ll find stairs down
to the underdeck where their quarters will be. A hanging cot for
each and a small chest apiece for any of their things.”

“
We don’t have luggage,
mate.”

“
All the better,” Riv kept
a pleasant tone, “The men will find the journey more pleasant, I’ll
wager.”

Before the sergeant could reply, Riv strode
passed him and addressed the Lance, “You’ll find all you need
waiting for you. When all are aboard come find me,” he gestured
down the ship, “up on the sterncastle.”

The Lance nodded and smiled, but it was the
sergeant who spoke, “I will.”

“
Looking forward to it,
Kerr.” Riv turned and nodded as he returned to the ship and made
his way to the sterncastle.

“
Damn pirates.” Kerr
grumbled.

“
Yes, sir.” Carrick said in
a bit too familiar of a tone for Kerr, who growled, “Get the men,
Carrick.” Kerr jumped on the deck of the ship and thundered his way
across it to the passage below. The crew hardly picked up their
heads or lifted their eyes but nearly to a one they were
smirking.

“
Yes, sir.” Carrick’s face
went blank and he turned on his heel toward the mass of troops
standing on the link barge between the
Kopis
and the end trireme. “Company!
Dual lines to the door and stairway!”

The men quickly assembled themselves into two
parallel rows and at Carrick’s command began to walk apace to their
berth. As the last troops were passing by Carrick, one paused and
stopped at attention.

“
Soldier? You’re… I don’t
think you’re where…” Suddenly Carrick couldn’t breathe and he felt
his knees give way. He fell forward and felt himself caught by
someone, there was a voice, then voices, then black. When he came
to, there were four sailors hovering over him and he was lying on
his back on the deck of the ship.

He sat upright too quickly and nearly passed
out again seeing stars. The sailors were telling him to take it
easy, “What happened?”