The Destiny (Blood and Destiny Book 4) (4 page)

“What is it, Miss Markus?” Admiral Vries
asked as she entered his cabin. The marine stood behind her, doggedly refusing
to leave.

“Am I so dangerous you
need a bodyguard, Admiral?”

“Ordinarily, I’d say
no, but from what I’ve seen, I’m starting to wonder if this entire ship is at
risk by having you on board.”

“I have no intention of
hurting you or any of your crew, Admiral. I just wanted to talk in private.”

“Very well. Dismissed.”
The Marine clicked his heels together, saluted, and left.

“What is it, Miss
Markus?” he repeated.

She tapped the stone in
her pocket and chewed on her tongue, torn between whether to act on her dubious
plan or not. “I wondered if you wanted to play a game of cards.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“My friends are all a
little downhearted, what with being locked up and heading for the noose. Tends
to drag people down. None of them want to play with me, and I prefer to keep my
mind busy. I thought you might like a game to pass the time until we reach the
Capital.”

“Do you think I’m an
idiot?”

“Not especially.” She
instantly bit her tongue; that had not been the best choice of responses, and
perhaps her assumption that he enjoyed playing was completely off.

“If you think I’m going
to let you trick me into playing a betting game to win your way off the ship,
you are mistaken.”

“No. No bets. Just to pass
the time. You wouldn’t deny a woman who’s about to be condemned to hang to a
last moment of pleasure with good company, would you?” She smiled as sweetly as
she could manage, not entirely sure if she should discount the idea of flashing
her cleavage. Still, her previous attempts at seducing anyone had fallen flat,
and she wasn’t sure which would be the biggest disaster—failing to catch his
attention or succeeding.

“One game,” he said
after staring blankly for a while. He gestured to the chair in front of his
desk, and she pulled the cards from her pocket. The Admiral pulled a pocket
watch from the breast pocket of his uniform jacket and opened it out, laying it
neatly atop the desk. “I’ll shuffle,” he said, holding his hand out to her.

She smiled and gave him
the cards. “I didn’t think it would be very becoming of a Sky Force Admiral to
know the rules of a pirate card game.”

“It is reasonable for a
man to know the habits of his enemies, Miss Markus. Nothing more.” He tapped
the cards on the desk, then shuffled them through his fingers with deft ease
and a slight smile on his face. “You should know, if you try to escape, I will
break your neck or put a bullet in your head. Do you think you can heal from
those?”

“I haven’t tried those
particular methods. I’m not sure I really want to test the outcome.”

“Then we have an
understanding.”

The Admiral dealt a
third round of cards, his pocket watch having counted the hour away. Larissa
shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She’d at least made the right assumption in
guessing his proclivity for card games, but besides that, the Admiral was dull.
Every attempt she made at striking up a conversation in the middle of the game had
been met with a scornful look, which reminded her of a schoolmaster with a
talent for silencing a room full of children with one glance. At least she
hadn’t attempted to show him her breasts; the notion of receiving such a look
in response to that action made her embarrassed just to imagine the situation.
Larissa felt somewhat grateful for the silence as she strained to listen to
more than the sounds of the rotors or feet passing on the deck above. At one
point, she thought she could hear the chugging of a steam train in the
distance, but even if she had, it didn’t really tell her anything. She didn’t
have an accurate map of the whole country floating around in her head like Holt
and Cid seemed to have.

“You are waiting for
something,” he said carefully as he laid the cards down.

“Hmm?”

“You keep glancing at
my watch. It will be a long while before we reach the Capital… unless you are
waiting for something else?”

“What could I possibly
be waiting for?”

A whistle blew on deck
above, followed by a shout and then more shouts. Though the words were jumbled to
her untrained ears, the Admiral flew out of his seat, sending his handful of
cards floating to the floor, and reached for his pistol and sword. He clicked
the pocket watch shut and glanced down at Larissa, his moustache dancing on his
lip as he scrunched his nose up.

“Come with me,” he said,
grabbing her upper arm and forcibly wrenching her out of the seat.

By the time they
reached the deck, scores of men raced to and fro, the frenzy of activity
blocking her view across the dusky sky. The Admiral marched her directly to the
wheel.

“Report,” he barked at
the man steering the ship, whipping a spyglass from the man’s hands.

“Pirates, sir. Hundreds
of the bastards.”

“How many ships?”

“At least eighteen.”

Vries growled and
shoved the spyglass into the chest of the nearest Marine. He grabbed Larissa’s
arm yet again and shook her once, hard. “What is the meaning of this? How have
you conjured this up?”

“What?”

He pushed and pulled
her across the deck, dragging her around men who carried rifles, swords, and
cannonballs across the deck in a form of measured haste until they reached the
rail at the bow of the ship. Larissa’s mouth dropped as she finally saw what
had gotten them so worked up.

Sallarium City
stretched across the horizon. Its familiar districts and buildings reached up
toward the pink sky, marred by an ever-present smog cloud engulfing the
atmosphere from one end to the other like a protective blanket of fume and ash.
Gone were the memorable dome and towers of the Hub building—the start of her
journey that came crashing down around her, signalling the end of one life
entirely and bringing forth a new and disturbing chapter in her world. A few
spikes of metal sticking up from the ground remained the only poor monuments to
the realm of her beloved Professor. Still, a few parts of the city seemed to
work on, a handful of lights twinkling in the residential district buildings, the
people of the city going about their business, oblivious to the trials and
tribulations she had faced. A train stood in the station; it lacked a plume of
smoke from its stack as it waited to move on, the engine sitting cold. The
familiar smells and sounds reaching her ears virtually replaced any noise on
the deck of the
RDS Eagle
as tears stung her eyes, the ache of home
tugging at her heart. But all of that paled in comparison to the utterly alien
sight accompanying the vision.

Anchored in scattered
points from one end of the city to the other were airships of all shapes and
sizes. While she had become accustomed to seeing large vessels in the skies,
the number of citizens in Sallarium City who could afford such transport were low—it
was not a hub of rich elitist types like Meridina—and from the ragged and
gnarled state of the ships she could make out at such a distance, it seemed probable
that every last one of them was crewed by pirates, as the Admiral’s man had
reported.

“I want an answer now,
Miss Markus,” Vries whispered into her ear, his voice low and sombre.

“What makes you think I
have anything to do with this?”

“You are a pirate
captain with a crew of pirates, and you managed to get yourself out of the brig
with your womanly tricks just in time to see this. I don’t know how you knew
they would be there, or what your plan is, but let me assure you, I’m going to
blast every last one of those ships out of the sky. Battle stations!”

Kerrigan snorted and woke himself up. He’d
lain sprawled out along the length of his cell, the tip of his head resting
against his toilet bucket and ankles turned out at awkward angles. A low groan
came from nearby; someone sounded like they were in pain. An acrid smell
tickled his nose hairs and settled in the back of his throat. He felt grateful
for not having eaten much lately; otherwise, he’d probably be seeing the food
again as the disgusting smell teased the inside of his mouth. At least the
bucket was nearby.

“What are you up to in
there?” the guard asked as he took a few steps towards the opposite cell.
Lieutenant Saunders’ cousin Sandy remained in there, and as far as he was aware,
Larissa had not returned. Kerrigan rolled onto his chest, then moved into a
crouch at the front of his cell, peering through the bars. He couldn’t really
see Sandy, the dull light in the brig casting long and awkward shadows
everywhere. He stared for a while until the guard’s legs blocked his view as
the man turned to face Sandy.

“I’m trying to relieve
myself, if you don’t mind. Some privacy would be appreciated,” Sandy said.

“I’ve never smelt a
stench like that,” the guard said.

“Well, excuse me! I
can’t help what comes out of me or what it smells like, so bugger off and stop
watching.”

“It’s not natural.”

“I already told you I
can’t help it.”

“Dear Gods, leave the
poor woman alone. What are you, some kind of pervert?” Cid yelled from the end
cell. The guard’s legs parted, and Kerrigan squinted to look past. A small red
glow seemed to light up for a moment then disappear.

“I have orders to shoot
you if you cause any trouble, and I will do so if I have to.” The guard’s hand
twitched towards the pistol on his belt.

Kerrigan stood up
straight. “You can’t shoot a prisoner who is safely contained within a cell,
Private,” he said, remembering his place as Colonel. “It is against the code.”

“I’m a Sergeant,
Colonel
,”
the guard said, whirring around to face him. From somewhere nearby, someone
snorted. Kerrigan presumed it to be Boswell, who would no doubt find it amusing
to share a rank with the incompetent Marine.

“You are? My apologies.
I don’t believe Vries will enjoy writing up a report to the President explaining
why a twitchy guard murdered a prisoner while she was evacuating her bowels in
a prison cell.” The snorting noise from Eddy Boswell returned as he tried to
suppress his laughter.

“That is
not
what
she is doing in there,” the guard said, his voice raised.

“I’m no expert on women
myself, but I’m pretty sure it all works the same, well, at that end of
business it does,” Kerrigan said.

“This is getting a
little personal and uncomfortable, if I must say,” Sandy said.

“I’m telling you now,
stop whatever you’re doing, or I will be forced to shoot you.”

“Gods, you can’t expect
her to stop mid-flow, surely?” Cid yelled.

Whatever answer the
guard might have given was cut short when a cry from above reached the brig—a
call to battle stations. The guard twitched left and right for a moment, then
finally gave up caring about what Sandy was or was not doing, as he raced up
the stairs, leaving them alone.

“I hope for all our
sakes Miss Markus has a plan and you are currently enacting it, Miss Saunders,”
he said.

“I have no idea what
Larissa is up to. All I do know is that if I don’t do this now, her boyfriend
won’t last another minute.”

The red glow reappeared,
and the acrid smell returned. Kerrigan finally saw what she was doing as the
light illuminated her body and face. Sandy appeared hunched over, her robe
pulled up to her waist, her legs crossed, forming a sort of circle, and in the center,
something burned, her hands waving over it and creating heat. He watched in
quiet awe as the red glow appeared to come from a small piece of silvery stone,
which was rapidly losing its form. The light intensified, revealing Holt in the
cell beside hers, slumped against the bar and groaning like a dying man, his
skin almost translucent and bathed in sweat.

The stone finally gave
way to the heat and melted into a pool. Sandy pulled a syringe from beneath her
sleeve and instantly stuck it into the liquid, drawing it up. A moment later,
she jabbed the needle into Holt’s arm and injected him with the substance.

Kerrigan tucked his
fingers around the bars and held on, watching. Though it wouldn’t have bothered
him to watch Holt die, he had seen and experienced first-hand what happened
when Holt had that stuff running through his veins.

Moments ticked by, and nothing
occurred. Sounds from above echoed down into the brig, thundering noises of
heavy items being rolled over wood—cannons moved into place, feet thumping
across the deck, and shouts and calls piercing the air. Whatever was going on
up on deck seemed enough to keep the entire crew distracted, and that suited
him just fine. He could only presume Larissa had staged some form of
distraction, though he had no idea what she could have done to warrant this
kind of reaction from the entire crew. Even if she had taken the Admiral
hostage by some form of miracle, they wouldn’t react in such a way. He did
wonder if she had managed to escape somehow and was now running away on foot,
or in another airship. If she had been so dramatic in her desperation, he could
only hope it wasn’t a step too far.

“How long did it take
for the last injection to work?” Sandy asked. When no one had given an answer,
Kerrigan sighed.

“Maybe it’s too late.”

“Are we breaking out
now?” Sandy asked.

“I don’t know. If
Larissa didn’t tell you her plan, you know as much as I do.”

“Should we try?” Sandy
came into view. She tucked a piece of rope between the bars on her cell and
carefully worked it around the lock.

“Can you get us out?”

“I’ll do my best,
Colonel.”

“Am I still in trouble
for bringing her along, sir?” Saunders asked as he stood by the door to his
cell.

“I’ll have to note it
both as a bad idea and a very good idea when I write my report.”

The lock on Sandy’s
cell clicked, and the door swung open just as the shouting above increased in
intensity. She took two steps forward and slipped the rope between the bars of
Kerrigan’s cell, just below where his hands still gripped the bars. He could
see now the drops of sweat forming on her brow as she concentrated hard to perform
whatever skilled magic she used to manipulate the lock.

Another click sounded,
and Kerrigan’s cell door swung open. For the first time since he’d seen the
line of warships on the horizon, Kerrigan’s pulse quickened. The promise of
escape, the unknown path ahead, and the consequences for failure in even the
smallest measure flowed over his body like an unpleasant wave of both nausea
and excitement.

“Saunders next,” he
said, not caring if he adopted an unfounded authoritative stance over a
civilian. Sandy didn’t seem to mind being told what to do, as she followed his
instruction without question.

“Are we all coming out,
sir?” Saunders asked.

Kerrigan headed to the
steps, where their wayward guard had disappeared, to keep watch for his return,
half expecting to see Larissa come racing toward him at any point. It seemed a
good question—if they broke out everyone in the cells, such an act would be indication
enough that he had been complicit in acting with the pirates. He could easily
argue he and his military comrades escaped with the intention of helping fight
a battle. It might even be enough to earn them some form of exoneration.

“Sir?” Saunders
appeared at his shoulder, repeating the question with one word. Sandy worked on
Sergeant Boswell’s cell lock. Kerrigan glanced up the steps then back down the
line of cells once more, silently begging the Gods to give him the answer.

Boswell’s cell door
opened with a click, and then the next cell along opened of its own accord. The
fat, elderly Friar Narry emerged into the corridor and stood adjusting the cord
around his waist. He’d managed to make a robe out of a spare sheet somewhere
along the journey home.

“I’ll let Zeb out. You
work on Cid’s door,” Narry said to Sandy. “You’re not the only one with skills
in this group, child.”

“I guess that answers
that, then,” Saunders muttered.

“Indeed.”

“So what’s the plan,
Colonel?”

“We need to ascertain
what is going on up there before we can decide the best course of action. I’d
like to help if the ship is in some form of trouble. I have no intention of
slaughtering our way off the ship, even if we’re condemned men.”

“I thought you might
say something like that. Shall I go perform a recce?”

“No, I’ll go. You stay
here and keep the others out of trouble. If a guard comes back, subdue him
carefully and lock him up. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“Uh, Colonel Kerrigan?”
Sandy called from behind.

“Yes?”

“We’re missing one
person.”

“Explain.”

“Holt’s cell is empty.”

“Empty?”

“As in he’s gone.
Disappeared.”

“Oh.” Kerrigan heard
the growl emerge from the back of his throat before he had a chance to suppress
it.

“What now?” Saunders
asked.

“We stick to the plan.
Holt, if you can hear me, don’t fuck everything up.” Kerrigan rolled his eyes
as Saunders’ brow furrowed. “It’ll take too long to explain. Time to go.”

As his foot hit the
first step, an enormous boom sounded from above, rocking the ship from stern to
bow. Kerrigan gripped the step for balance and toyed with the idea of staying
behind with the others and waiting it out. He shook his head, physically
shaking away the fear shuddering through his veins, and took another step
upwards. His foot slipped as his stomach dropped down into his toes and he hit
his chin on one of the steps. More explosions followed, the bracing sound of
cannon-fire echoing down to the brig. Saunders had fallen onto his backside. Kerrigan
exchanged a worried glance with the man before he turned and climbed the steps.