Storm of Sharks (37 page)

The two laughed. Their combined strength of
spirit had carried them out of the Dyrewood, and in the bubble of Bray the two had drawn
closer still.

‘You know why I was angry with you,
don’t you?’ she said as their laughter subsided. ‘The fussing and
worrying that you were indulging in over me. Can you see that now?’

‘I can,’ Trent said as the line
slowly went taut in the water, the baited hook at its end. ‘And I’d do it
again. I’d do it because you’re more important than any living therian in
the Seven Realms. You’re the hope that the free people can still cling
to.’

‘More important than Drew?’ she
asked.

Trent shrugged. ‘We don’t know
if Drew even lives.’

‘You
will
see him again,
Trent,’ she said, reaching out and closing her fingers around his maimed hand.

‘I hope so,’ he said. ‘I
want to tell him I’m sorry. Sorry for ever believing he could do anything to hurt
Ma. Sorry for taking the Red and fighting for our enemies. I pray to Brenn that day
might come.’

‘It will,’ she said, resting a
head on his shoulder. ‘Have faith.’

Trent was silent for a moment before finding
his voice again.

‘He’s a fool, if you ask me,
chasing after some army that might not even be out there. If he had any sense,
he’d have come after you.’

‘There are more important things for
Drew to consider than me, Trent. He’s the rightful king of Westland. He has the
people of his realm to think about. He’d be a fool to come looking for
me.’

‘Then that makes me a fool,’
said Trent. ‘I know what I’d have done if the roles were
reversed.’

‘You know how to flatter a girl,
Greycloak,’ she said, trying to scoff, all too aware of the sudden heat in her
cheeks.

‘Greycloak? I like it! A definite step
up from Redcloak. It’s true, though. I wouldn’t have let you out of my
sight. My brother’s a lucky man to have your affections.’

She gripped his hand.

‘Drew’s very dear to me, Trent.
He’s a good friend, and the reason we’re fighting this war. But he
isn’t the only soul who’s precious to me.’

As he turned to her she leaned in, her lips
catching his tenderly. A sudden tug on the line caused Trent to lurch forward, the
elusive first bite of the day catching him unawares. Gretchen pulled away as Trent fell
forward, still gripping the rod whilst being hauled from the jetty. He landed with a
great splash that brought howls of laughter from the Lady of Hedgemoor.

Surfacing in the river, Trent spat a
mouthful of water up
at Gretchen, his hair draped over his face,
obscuring his eyes.

‘You look like a water hound,
Ferran,’ she laughed. ‘Don’t shake your coat all over me when you get
out!’

He reached up and grabbed her by the ankles,
yanking her forward. She followed him into the river with a shriek, disappearing beneath
the water before rising in his arms. He grinned as she spluttered in his grasp. Their
laughter subsided gradually as she raised a hand to his face and drew his hair to one
side. There were the bright blue eyes that she couldn’t shake from her dreams.

‘You see, my lady,’ said the boy
from the Cold Coast, his teeth chattering, ‘I told you I’d catch
something.’

‘By my reckoning, we’re fifty
leagues from the isle of Claw,’ said Florimo, tracing his scrawny finger over the
sea chart.

‘Fifty leagues through Bastian
water?’ said Vega. ‘Easy as a sunny day on Lake Robben.’

Drew and Whitley smiled at the count’s
grim humour. While the rest of the Wolf’s ragtag fleet had stayed in Lyssian
waters, heading for Calico Bay under the command of Baron Bosa, the
Maelstrom
had raced ahead of them, sailing on to Bast. All the codes of the Catlord’s navy
wouldn’t help Vega’s ship
approach the jungle continent. The
Maelstrom
was known to seafarers throughout the oceans. Any sailor worth
his salt would recognize her as loyal to the Wolf, with or without Onyx’s flag
flying. The route they were taking was painfully precarious, and their fortune hung on
the wits of the ancient navigator.

‘I’m grateful you joined us on the
Maelstrom
, Florimo,’ said Drew. ‘Without your eyes and wings, I
fear the Bastians would’ve found us by now.’

‘I’m grateful the count invited
me along,’ replied the man. ‘I feared he’d heard enough of my shanties
by now.’

‘Perish the thought, old chap.’
Vega smiled. ‘I could listen to your dulcet tones all the livelong day, although I
fear your rousing songs might attract the attention of the Catlords as far off as
Felos.’

‘Just how good is your
eyesight?’ said Whitley, fascinated by Florimo’s airborne perception.

‘Put it this way, my lady,’
whispered the Ternlord, tapping his beaked nose, ‘I could tell you what the Lion
had for breakfast in Highcliff.’

‘And the navigation?’ said Drew.
‘I’ve seen you use the maps, but there’s something more to it,
isn’t there?’

‘Vega can keep his fancy sextants and
astrolabes,’ said Florimo with a dismissive wave. ‘The stars make up a
Ternlord’s map and compass. It’s all about the moon, young Wolf, as you
should well know being what you are, all tooth, fang and frightful legend. She’s
up there in the day too, mind; one just has to look that bit harder for her light.
You’ve heard of the black sun, my lord?’

Drew nodded as Florimo continued.

‘We navigators call that an eclipse.
That’s the moon’s work, casting her shadow over the world. And what power
lies within it – a Wolf could get drunk on the black sun’s shadow. When
one understands the cycles of the moon one truly understands her hold over land, sea and
the lycanthropes. A
good navigator can predict the weather, the season
and the tides by the sky. Stare long enough and one can see the future writ
there.’

‘Florimo, could you chart the weather
that is coming for us?’ asked Whitley. ‘You can forecast such events before
they’ve happened?’

‘Most certainly, young
Bear.’

He winked before bowing low, his drooping
pink feather lolling forward. ‘If you’ll excuse me, my lords, my lady,
I’d best get back to work. Who knows what awaits us, and the sooner I spy it the
better.’

Florimo squinted at the sky, licked a finger
and held it up to the wind. Checking his bearings, he walked towards the starboard rail
and unhitched his shirt, tossing it to Casper, who stood grinning nearby.

‘Watch and learn, young
Seahawk,’ said Florimo with a wink. ‘Watch and learn.’

Slender white wings emerged from the
navigator’s bony back, his bare feet thinning before splaying, the flesh turning
red as webbing spanned the joints. His nose grew sharper, longer, the jaw joining the
protrusion as together they shifted into a daggerlike black beak. The wings flapped,
feathers rustling as the avianthrope lifted a foot on to the rail. As the sails clapped
overhead, a gust of wind caught beneath Florimo’s wings, lifting the Weretern from
the deck so he hovered elegantly over the sea. Within moments, he was rising high
towards the sun, disappearing from view in a matter of heartbeats.

‘Come,’ said Whitley, patting
Casper on the head. ‘Let’s get back to your ropework. I’ll show you
how we
woodlanders tie
proper
knots as opposed to the raggedy
efforts you pirates work with.’

As the Bearlady and cabin boy headed towards
the main deck, Drew and Vega made their way aft.

‘Casper seems very fond of her,’
said Drew with a smile.

‘He’s not used to a
woman’s company,’ replied the Sharklord. ‘This is new to
him.’

Figgis stood at the helm, hands on the
wheel, watching the horizon. Opal stood behind him, her wrists manacled, ankles chained
to the deck for good measure, out of reach of the first mate. Occasionally, Figgis
glanced over his shoulder, checking that the Werepanther remained where she was.

‘Speaking of a woman’s
influence, have you told Casper yet?’ asked Drew.

‘We’ve had a chat,’
replied Vega as they walked past the first mate. ‘The lad’s now aware that
I’m his father. We’re building up to the conversation about his mother. In
the meantime Florimo will act as a surrogate avianthrope for him. Sosha knows how one
controls shifting into a hawk!’

‘You really think that old seagull can
get you to Bast undetected?’ shouted Opal as the two approached. She turned to
Drew. ‘Did Vega tell you how he bargained for information, little Wolf? How he
threatened to kill my children?’

Drew glared at her, chained up on the deck,
a sick smile upon her face. She thought she had him.

‘He told me that very thing,
Opal.’

Opal’s smile slipped as Vega’s
appeared. If she’d been hoping to shock him, it hadn’t worked. Drew had
pressed Vega on
how he’d achieved his results, and the count had
reluctantly revealed his tactics.

‘An old Hawk told me not so long ago
that one has to be prepared to do ugly things to win a war,’ said Drew.
‘I’m coming to terms with his words now. I wouldn’t tolerate anyone in
my ranks harming a child in my presence, even the Sharklord. Still, I’m not the
count’s keeper. One thing I do know about my sea marshal is that he’s not to
be trifled with.’

‘You should have left the Bearlady to
do her worst the other night,’ said Opal. ‘I’m as good as dead
now.’ She drew her clawed fingernails along the decking, leaving furrows through
the timber. ‘Banishment would be a blessing, but it’s my head the elders
will take for aiding you.’

‘Then it sounds as though you need us
as much as we need you,’ said Drew. ‘Don’t wish your life away so
swiftly, Opal. We may still be able to provide one for you. And your
children.’

‘I fear for them,’ she
confessed.

‘Try not to,’ said Vega.
‘If you’ve told us the truth, you shouldn’t be afraid.’

‘It’s not you I fear any
more,’ spat out Opal. ‘Once the high lords of Bast receive word of my
complicity, they’ll go after my children. The Catlords have never been shy of
punishing their own for transgressions.’

‘Like Taboo?’ asked Drew,
remembering his friend’s predicament that left her enslaved to the Lizardlords.
‘What crime did she commit that got her imprisoned on Scoria, fighting in the
Furnace? How is it that a Catlady of Bast ends up fighting in a pit for the amusement of
others?’

Opal’s face, so hard and fierce,
softened at the mention of the fiery young Weretiger who’d fought alongside Drew
in the arena. One of the Lizardlord’s Eight Wonders, Taboo was as tough a therian
as Drew had ever encountered, and he was proud to consider her a friend.

‘Therein lies a tale, cub.’ Opal
sighed ruefully.

‘I’m not going anywhere,’
he replied, encouraging her to speak. ‘Besides, anything you tell us regarding the
Catlords could be of use. Taboo is a friend of mine; if I can convince your high lords
that Lyssians and Bastians can work together, perhaps there’s a way we can stop
this war for good.’

‘First I want a guarantee,’ she
said, looking up. Vega stepped closer, coming to a halt behind Drew, hands on his
hips.

‘Go on,’ said the Sharklord.

‘I need a promise that you’ll
help rescue my children from Braga.’

‘We can do that,’ said the
count. ‘I’ll do everything in my power to get them safely into your
arms.’

‘How strange, Sharklord, that days ago
you promised you’d kill my babies if I didn’t do as you demanded, yet now
you vow to save them.’

‘You helped us, Pantherlady,’
replied Vega with a smile. ‘Now let me return the favour. So tell us, what do you
know of this Taboo?’

‘You already know,’ she began,
‘about the three great houses of the Catlords, three dynasties which between them
have governed Bast for sixty years.’

‘The Lions, the Panthers and the
Tigers,’ said Drew.

‘Good lad, you’ve been paying
attention,’ joked Vega,
patting Drew on the head like a lapdog.
A glare from Opal silenced him.

‘We’ve worked together, pooling
our strength, supporting one another as we turned Bast from a myriad tiny, warring
states into a force to be reckoned with throughout the known world. You have experienced
our might, of course.’

Both Drew and Vega nodded ruefully.

‘The seat of power in Bast is Leos,
the Lionlord capital. Then there’s Braga, my home, and Felos, land of the
Tigerlords. The Forum of Elders gathers in Leos, the senior high lords from the three
houses and all the smaller felinthrope lines – Jaguars, Cheetahs and the
like – making up its number.’

‘What of all the other noble houses,
those whose children you took as ransom?’ asked Drew.

‘Some have risen through the ranks to
positions of power, such as the Hippo general, Gorgo, and Count Costa, the Vulturelord.
But most remain where the Catlords want them, beneath our paws.’

She said the last words with a hint of
triumph.

‘Taboo was but a girl when she joined
her grandfather, High Lord Tigara, in Leos. She instantly caught the attention of all in
the court, her passion and temper being quite remarkable, even for a felinthrope.
You’ll have heard of the rage of the Lions – Taboo had her own kind of
fury, screaming the steeples down whenever she didn’t get her way.