Wintermore (Aeon of Light Book 1) (38 page)

The men extend their hands over the flames while they argue and laugh.

Mara stops a couple steps away from them. “Excuse me, can you help me?”

The guards turn and scan Mara’s body.

One man, a thick man with a thick blond beard steps forward. “I can definitely help you,” and he places his hand on Mara’s arm.

With no objections, Mara giggles and bats her eyes at him. She waves for Preta to get behind her. Mara pets the blond man’s arm.

The two other guards, now interested, move away from the fire barrel toward Mara.

“I can help too,” a tall man with large nose says.

Mara flips her hair and bats her eyes at him. “I bet you can.”

The blond man stiff arms the tall guard. “Back off, Rolster, I’m helping first; you can help second.”

“We’ll see about that, Menker,” Rolster says.

Preta brushes the snow off her sleeves.

A young man, almost a boy, steps up to Preta and opens his arms. “Do you need anything?”

Preta flinches, thinking she was by herself away from the action. “
Me
? Oh no, thanks, I’m good.”

The boy leans in. “Are you sure you’re good?”

“Pretty sure,” and Preta scurries around the guard and forward until she brushes Mara’s back.

Mara stutters at Preta’s touch. “S-so, if you help me, I’ll help you.”

“Oh yeah?” Menker says. “We are good at helping, right boys?”

“Right,” they all say in unison.

Mara giggles and waves her hand at Rolster with a feminine wrist dangle.

Preta’s eyes widen, and she restrains herself from bursting into a laugh, hearing the unnatural giggle coming from Mara.

“Glad to, how can we help you, pretty lady?” Menker says.

Mara smiles. “It’s my brother; actually, three brothers, those stupid boys, always doing what stupid boys do, you know, getting into trouble, fighting over a girl.” Mara flicks her hair at Menker. “And well, the guards picked them up two nights ago and they haven’t returned home since. So I was wondering if they’re here. You can’t miss them—three of them about the same height, young, one sorta stupid looking, well, maybe two sorta stupid looking, likes to talk too much.”

Rolster slaps Menker on his back. “
Ha
—I know who she’s talking about,” and he points to an older guard, whose red cheeks stick out on his round, pasty face, and clear liquid drips out his nose one drop at a time. “You know those three that went out with the last lot a few hours ago? What was it? Yates, Yats, Yass? Now that one—
ha
—he won’t last long.”

Preta steps forward. “Yaz?”

“Maybe, I don’t remember, could be something like that. He and his buddies are a real live bunch.”

Preta points at the man. “Few hours ago? Few hours ago where?”

Rolster nods toward the docks. “The Dreg’s ship off to Iinia. Probably already left, can’t miss it, bow and stern painted red and flying a solid red flag.”

Preta squints to where the guard was looking.

A blanket of snow lies across the cityscape, extending across the docks. The snow falls thick and heavy with no wind. Preta squints harder, barely able to see the bottom of the stairs let alone the sea or the docks.

Mara’s disposition switches from sweet to her normal salty self. “All of them on the same boat?”

Menker nods. “They’re all in the same sorry lot.”

Mara turns away from Rolster. “Let’s go, Preta.”

The portly man steps forward and grabs Mara’s arm. “I thought you said you’d help us.”

Mara stops and eyes the guard holding her.

Menker pinches his chin as he stares at Preta, his disposition sours. “Did you say Preta?”

Preta’s heart skips a beat. “No, it’s Greta.”

Menker shoves Rolster out of the way and reaches for Preta.

Mara spins free from the portly man’s grasp. Her dagger flies out from inside her duster.

Menker snatches Preta’s arm.

Mara’s blade crashes onto Menker’s wrist, cutting off his hand.

“
Ah—ah—ah
—” Menker screams, holding out his arm—blood squirting.

Preta lurches back and blood sprays in her face, and she cringes.

On the ground, Menker’s hand lies in a white bed of snow surrounded by bright-red droplets and streaks.

Menker’s screams transition into heavy breathing and grunts. “
Raaa—kill
, kill the woman—keep the girl.”

Preta scrambles backward away from the action. Her feet run in place on the ice for a second as she tries to regain her balance. She slips and crashes straight down onto her butt.

A sword slashes at Mara’s head.

Mara ducks to the left as she tosses her dagger to the ground behind the portly man. Then her clothes fall off with a puff of snow.

The portly man’s sword slashes through Mara’s invisible body, and he stumbles forward, waving his arms like he’s swimming in air.

Naked, Mara reappears on one knee with her hand on the dagger. She lunges forward, thrusting the blade into the portly guard’s lower back.

The portly man bends backward and moans, falling to his knees. He crumples onto his side, squirming like a worm.

Mara yanks the blade out of his back and spins around, ready for another attack. She snarls like a ravenous dog.

The other three guards come at Mara with swords drawn.

She tosses her blade on the ground to the left toward the boy at the end.

Mara’s body disappears, and the guards skid forward to a stop.

Mara reappears in mid-somersault with her hand on her dagger. She extends her right arm, slashing the young guard’s femoral artery, then she springs up into a fighting pose and snarls.

Blood sprays from the guard’s leg. “
No—ah
—”

Red streaks paint the snow like a canvas in spurts as the boy hops and slides in circles. The young man drops his sword and squeezes the bloody gash on his inner thigh.

Rolster whirls around and faces a naked Mara.

With his nub, Menker points at Preta. “Get the girl.”

Rolster changes directions and goes for Preta.

Mara’s arm shoots out releasing the dagger at Menker.

He turns and meets Mara’s blade in his chest.

Mara laughs and disappears in a swirl of smoke.

Menker wobbles backward, bending his knees. He collapses straight to the ground. His body twitches, and his bloody nub swings back and forth in fits, digging a hole in the snow.

Mara reappears with her hand on the hilt protruding out of Menker’s chest. She rips the dagger out and spins toward Preta. Mara tosses the blade high in the air toward Rolster slipping and sliding on the snow.

Preta huddles against the stone railing as Rolster closes in on her. Preta frantically fumbles into her cloak and grips her pistol.

Rolster, now within arm’s length, growls. “Come here, you!”

Preta points the pistol with shaky hand, cocks the hammer with both thumbs, raises it, and squeezes the trigger.

Bang
—

A faint whitish-grey smoke curls out the end of the barrel.

Rolster’s eyes widen and his face stiffens. “
You
—you shot me.” He falls forward face-first, dead, landing on Preta’s boots.

Mara’s translucent hand reaches for the sky, grabbing for the dagger. Her body reappears as the hilt hits her hand in a downward motion. She circles it across where Rolster was standing just a second earlier, and the blade meets nothing but air.

While hovering over top of the dead guard, Mara recoils her arm and scoffs. She turns and strolls away, blood drips from the tip of her blade, dotting the snow. Mara tosses the dagger to the ground and picks up her clothes.

With her heel, Preta nudges the dead man off her boot.

“Seery, I told you, you were supposed to pick up my clothes.”

ACROBATS OF THE SEA

Preta scampers down the jailhouse stairs as fast as she can without slipping. She places her hands above her eyes like a visor to block out the snow. It’s snowing so hard she can’t see the alley Agna is hiding in or the black carriage parked in the middle of the road. The snow disorients her, and she looks side to side to determine which way the guard pointed toward the docks.

Mara yells from a few feet away, “This way—keep up!”

Preta makes her way to Mara’s voice, her body nothing more than a faint outline. “Mara, how do you disappear like that?”

“I was born this way, same as you.”

“But I wasn’t born this way,” Preta says.

“All right, but I was; all Grine have the ability to transmorph—to a point.”

“To a point?” Preta squints, unsure of what she means.

Mara flicks her hair. “Shut up and keep moving. If you want to see your brothers again, no more talky-talk.”

Preta takes it in stride and continues running forward.

They reach the docks and turn right on the road paralleling the sea.

Ahead, sailors unload crates of chickens from a sailboat.

Mara skids to a stop and turns onto a long dock.

On the right, workers load crates onto a large steamboat. A dirty white flag soiled with black soot, with the word
Greatone
embroidered in green lettering, flaps in the breeze.

The snow lightens, and Mara shoves a worker unloading a donkey from the sailboat. “The Dregs?”

The crew hand points to the end of the dock.

Mara snarls and continues running.

Preta tries to keep up.

The dock is long; Preta can’t see the end. She loses her footing on the icy wooden planks and slides. She catches a post before she falls into the sea. Preta peers into the turbulent waters below and pushes off the post, sliding her back onto the dock. She regains her footing and chases after Mara again.

After a few minutes running on the long walkway, Mara stands at the end of the dock with hands on hips.

Preta breathes heavy stopping next to her.

In the distance, out to sea, the blood-red stern of the Dregs’ boat sails away.

Preta drops to her knees. “No, no, no, no—”

“Whining won’t help now, Seery. Get up.”

Preta stands, and she cries as she punches Mara in the arm. “Mara, don’t call me Seeros!”

Mara sighs. “Preta, we’ll find them, but we still have to get out of here, it’s not safe, come on,” and she grabs Preta’s arm and turns her back toward Bielston.

Preta yanks her arm away. “Why is this happening and everything going to crap? I hate this light. I hate Lomasie. And, and, and—”

Mara hugs Preta. “And you want your brothers back, so pull it together. You need to pull it together right now or you’ll never see them again.”

Preta pushes away. “I—I.”

Mara releases Preta and steps toward the city. “No whining, focus on the next move, get safe, get your brothers back, and get Lomasie back. All it is, is you now. Now suck it up and let’s move.”

Mara’s words seep in, and Preta snaps out of it and walks.
I must get my brothers back
.
It’s all my fault they’re on the Dregs’ ship and I have to make it right
.

Mara moves faster, and Preta follows close behind.

Ahead, steam billows from a black metal ship with a giant paddlewheel attached to the side.

The dock vibrates under Preta’s feet.

A worker on Preta’s left unties ropes tethered to the steamboat. “Five minutes, boys, it’s clearing up.”

The snow is barely falling as Preta and Mara reach the road.

Mara turns to her right and jerks to a stop. “Crap.”

Preta, not paying attention, bumps into Mara from behind and bounces off backward. “Mara, what is it?”

Mara doesn’t respond.

Preta slides next to her.

Lomasie stands at the end of the main road leading to the docks.

Nelek is right next to him with thirty or more guards.

Lomasie struts forward with his cane.

Behind him, a praetor drags Agna.

Preta extends her arm and steps forward. “No, Agna! Mara, he’s got Agna.”

Mara yanks Preta back. “She’s already gone. Don’t worry about the old woman, think about your brothers and not her, trust me.”

Preta sighs. “Agna—”

Mara staggers backward, tugging Preta with her. “She can take care of herself, trust me. I guarantee she wouldn’t want you to be captured because of her.” Mara stops and places both of her hands on Preta’s shoulders and shakes her hard, trying to break through Preta’s daze. “Believe me, she would give her life a thousand times over for you. Listen to me, forget her.”

Preta’s head wobbles, lost. “I just—I don’t know where to—what to do—”

Mara spins Preta around and runs in the opposite direction, dragging Preta behind her.

Twenty more guards approach.

“Too many.” Mara spins back around, gripping Preta’s wrist. “Snap out of it! To the dock, back down the dock to that steamer that’s leaving.”

Her words resonate and Preta wiggles loose from Mara’s grip and they both run toward the ship.

On the right, men pull ropes up into the steamer.

Loud knocking deafens Preta as the giant chain-link anchor rises from the water. She peeks behind her while moving forward.

Lomasie is almost at the dock, and guards fill the road on either side of him.

Preta continues running forward while peeking back to her side. She barrels into a ship-hand, knocking him into a crate. Preta bounces off his shoulder and she slips on the ice and tumbles to the ground.

The gruff ship-hand scowls and throws down his rope. “Watch where you’re going!”

Mara lifts Preta off the dock while hardly slowing down. “Get up, keep moving.” She lets go of Preta’s arm and heads for the
Greatone
.

Preta regains herself and runs after her, catching up to her at the catwalk leading up to the boat. “What do we do now?”

Mara eyes the guards fast approaching them. Her eyes shift to Preta. “Use it, Seeros.”

“
Use what
?” Preta opens her arms, not understanding what Mara is talking about.

Mara points at the tethered donkey across the dock. “Use,” then she points toward the guards almost on them, “it.”

Preta shakes her head in confusion. “I can’t, I never did it by myself.”

“You never did what?” Mara says.

“On my own, I never did it before.”