Fractured Bonds: A Dark Fantasy (Fractured Lands Book 2) Read online

  Now was the men’s chance to vent their frustration. Muscleman led the way up the ladder, trampling the man’s dead body. It has been said that familiarity breeds contempt. The crewman tasked with securing the top hatch was not ready for the attack. The first body up the ladder filled the hatchway, grabbed the sentry by the throat, and pulled him down into the hold. His massive hand latched on to the guard’s windpipe, cutting off any cry for help. He never stood a chance to cry out again, his body was torn into by the cargo, like wild animals finally able to reach their captor.

  Kanika knew this would be a hazardous point in the attack. She assumed it was night, and as such, many of the crew would be on the next deck, sleeping or preparing to sleep. In the dark quarters, the wrong person could be attacked. Better to let Muscleman lead the way into danger, she would follow close behind. Besides, quickness of action was required now. From her location under the stairs she knew she would not be able to be on the front line of this attack. Better to delegate it to someone more expendable.

  She admitted to herself Muscleman seemed adept at killing. She heard soft moans and groans as the crew was murdered in their sleep. It would’ve taken a keen ear to hear any of the men’s deaths. The vanguard of the attack already up the ladder, she followed close behind. She did a quick inspection to ensure the crew quarters were indeed theirs, no survivors left to sneak up behind them. To her disappointment, they found no weapons. They would have to do this hand to hand, the old-fashioned way.

  They discussed at great length the need for stealth for this attack to work. She was surprised that, so far, the men followed her directions. Leaving the men behind, like a cat she wove her way through the dead bodies to the aft ladder.

  If the ship was like the Resolute, it opened below the sterncastle. A ship with the night watch set sailing the cracks had possibly four crew on deck. The officers secured under the sterncastle. The bosun locked in his quarters under the forecastle. She found no lanterns burning at the helm, so they must be traveling dark—or as dark as it can be with two moons.

  Kanika moved back to the group waiting for their orders. “I can’t find the watch, at most they’ve four men on deck. We need to take out the forward watch. Then maybe three by the helm.”

  “How can you be so sure?” Muscleman still questioned her.

  “I’m not, it’s called an educated guess. Do you have a better idea?” She hoped it wouldn’t be a constant battle with him. He was handy in a fight. “We still need someone to take out the forward watch.”

  None of the men spoke up. Kanika felt she could handle the job, but she was not in peak condition. Before she resigned herself to handle the task, a familiar voice spoke up.

  “I’ll do it,” Lizzie said in a breathless voice.

  “He should be on the forecastle.”

  “No worries, I’ll go invisible. They’ll never see me comin’.”

  Kanika had heard stories of a witch’s magic, though she’d never seen it at work. She paced with Lizzie to the aft ladder, leading her away from the others. “Are you sure about this?”

  Lizzie winked and silently padded up the stairs. Kanika lost sight of her as soon as she left the hatch. Whether from magic or stealth the tiny woman covered in shit blended into the shadows out of sight.

  Kanika found the waiting unbearable. In her mind, she walked the path the witch would need to take to reach the forward watch. It wasn’t far. Even trying to be invisible, she imagined herself making the trip, killing the sentry, and working her way back to the safety of the hatch. It took too long, something must have happened. Worst-case scenarios began running through her mind and the best way to extricate themselves from failure. She waited double the time it should take, then waited a bit more. When no alarm sounded, she took a tentative step up the ladder, only to be met by Lizzie’s head poking into the hatchway.

  “All done,” she whispered.

  Kanika whispered back, “What do you mean all done?

  “There was five, not four, they’re all dead. The ship is ours except the captain, officers, and bosun. Their doors are all locked. The crew carried no weapons.”

  Kanika found herself lost for words. The diminutive witch did something she thought impossible. Perhaps there really was magic flowing through her veins. The lack of weapons didn’t help, but there was still work to do. It didn’t matter now, they needed to take out as many officers as possible.

  Kanika stood in the small patch of moonlight at the foot of the ladder. With a motion of her arm, she called the cargo to her. “I’ve a plan for the aft part of the ship. The front part of the ship will be a little trickier.” She pointed at Muscleman. “Think you can handle a little messy work with a couple of your friends?”

  His fingers interlaced, he cracked his knuckles in front of his chest. “I’m ready for a standup fight, this sneaking around is getting old.”

  She moved closer and tapped him on the chest. “You need to take your friends and stand outside the bosun’s door. When we make the attack on the captain’s cabin, all hell can break loose. The bosun will come out swinging, you need to disarm and kill him. We will take care of the aft part of the ship. Think you can handle that?”

  “You just give us some heads to crack, and he’ll be dead before he hits the deck.”

  “You’re about to get your wish, but you must wait until we’re ready.”

  “I understood you the first time.”

  Kanika led them to the top of the ladder. Muscleman and his group took a position outside the bosun’s cabin.

  She scanned overhead. The ship was doing well on the course that had been laid in. As long as the wind didn’t shift, or the waves didn’t change direction, the steady rocking and sound of the ship should keep the officers asleep until the attack started.

  She grabbed four men that looked like able-bodied seamen. “Do you have experience handling ropes?” After she got a few nods from those she picked, she said, “Good, we’re going to lower ourselves over the edge and bust in through the cabin windows. If they are open or unlocked, great. If not, we will break through them with our bodies. Do you understand?”

  They all nodded their understanding. Kanika did a quick scan of the helm area and found that Lizzie was right, there were no weapons to be found. She went for the best thing at hand, grabbing a belaying pin, she slapped it in the palm of her right hand. Unfortunately, she had no pockets since she was still nude. To lower herself over the side with the rope she would need to bite the chunk of wood. She found long enough pieces of line and ensured the other four were ready to go tying each off the top end with a secure knot. At the stern rail, she watched the wake flow from under the ship. One leg followed by the other over the side, she began lowering herself down, followed by the four men. She hoped with luck the windows would be open and they would lead to the captain’s cabin.

  The lights were out and the windows locked. She glanced to her left and right, nodding to those preparing to attack. This might be her last action as a free woman, but dammit she was going to go down fighting. They were going to take the ship or die trying. She kicked off the frame of the rocking hull, both feet aimed for the center on the glass between the rails and styles and crashed through into the cabin beyond.

  She heard a loud thump as the man to her right bounced off the bulkhead, lost his grip, and screamed as he fell into the ship’s wake. The belaying pin in her mouth, she flopped onto the bed directly on top of the target. A tumble of bodies and bedding, the pair rolled out onto the deck in the dimly lit room. Once she struggled to free her right arm, she took the pin and started whaling on the other’s body.

  From under the covers a hand rose, the shape of a knife clearly outlined as the man thrust down hard, slicing into her outer thigh. Redoubling her efforts, she heard a pleasing crack when the pin found the skull, and she continued to hammer. The sheets soaked up the blood, the pin continued to fall after the body stopped moving until the man’s skull was crushed.

  Focused as she was on
the fight in her room, she never recognized the screams and cries coming from the remainder of the ship. Untangling her way from the bedding and body, she crawled to the small oil lamp and raised the wick, filling the room with a warm glow. A quick inspection and she wound her wound was not life-threatening, though it hurt like hell and she was bleeding all over the place. With a pull on the bedding, she made an impromptu bandage and wrapped her wound to staunch the blood loss.

  A scan of the cabin convinced her she had landed in the captain’s quarters. The space gave her goose bumps, it reminded her so much of her father’s cabin on the Resolute. This was not the time to mourn her losses, now was a time for action. The ship might still hide laggards that needed to be dealt with.

  A glint of metal caught her eye. Limping to the shine, she found her first officer’s sword hanging on a hook. Crushed it wasn’t even displayed as a trophy, only discarded on a hook without a second thought to the importance it held to her. Bastards must pay, she thought.

  Chapter 2, Ollie Shoemaker:

  Ollie Shoemaker, middle son from the ruling house of Perdition, hundreds of miles away, stood on the prow of the lead ship of a small flotilla of six ships. He inspected the flag of truce flying on the main mast over his family’s flag, the white scale of commerce on a field of black. The white flag of truce was easy to spot in the light of Major and Minor, the two moons. It was hoped the flag of truce would stop any attacks from Zar’s warships, he knew it wouldn’t hinder the pirates that plundered the war zone. That’s why they traveled with six ships instead of one. His escort ships’ lateen sails were easy to spot at his flanks. He knew each of the escort ships were heavily armed, while his craft—as a ship of peace—carried only crew, no soldiers or armaments for protection

  Ollie turned his attention to the open water that stretched before him. The moonlight should have been enough to reflect off any white sails on the water. He saw nothing but the deep blue sky, and the almost as deep blue sea. He wasn’t an artist, surely there were better colors to describe what he saw, but the words just weren’t in him. He was never a person to use pretty words to convince others, he relied on his passion and conviction to convey his message.

  Under advice from the Visor, the ships set a course that swung far east of the battle zone to reach the city-state of Zar without conflict. They sailed nonstop, skirting known civilization. Their course would bring them to the island of Zar from the south. They would be intercepted by picket ships long before they reached the city-state, but since they were invited to peace talks, they shouldn’t be attacked. Unless this was all an elaborate trap. He stood, the wind at his back blowing his curly black hair into his eyes, a hand on both port and starboard rails. The water rushed under the keel and his feet. He found peace to settle his troubled mind at the prow, like he flew over the water below, the wind pressing his royal blue tunic into his body like a sail.

  A soothing voice spoke from his left-hand side, “You should be asleep. We should reach our destination tomorrow before the noonday meal.”

  He turned and faced Joti, his longtime friend and advisor, finding the sides of his head recently shaved, his topknot trimmed close for battle. His bright white tunic blew in the favorable sailing wind. Ollie spoke softly into Joti’s ear, “I find I’ve an unsettled heart, the enormity of this responsibility is weighing heavy on my mind. Why did my father send me to do this? One of my older brothers would’ve been much more suited.” Ollie faced forward to stare toward the horizon.

  Joti brushed playfully against Ollie’s shoulder. “Who would have done better, the crazy one or the bastard?” Joti cleared his throat. “Again, what did your father say when he sent you?”

  “I’ve told you a hundred times, his exact words were, ‘I was uniquely qualified for this mission.’ You know how many times we argued over this senseless war.”

  “Then it is obvious to me that your father is finally listening to you. You swayed him with your argument that this war is bad for business. That Perdition should do whatever it must to end the conflict.”

  “What you say sounds good, if only it were true. If he thought there was a chance for this mission to end the fighting, he would’ve sent someone more qualified.”

  “Your father sees something in you that you do not. Besides, he sent the Visor. It is his mission to ensure everything goes smoothly. It is my job to see that your ass is protected—and to keep you company when you grow melancholy. It is your task to end the fighting.”

  Ollie quickly glanced over his shoulder to ensure they were as alone as one might be on a warship with a crew of sixty. Sure the night watch was in the aft part of the ship, he reached his left hand over Joti’s right and gave it a squeeze. “With you by my side, I think I should be able to tackle any task, however daunting it may seem. Tell me you will never leave me.”

  “I serve at your pleasure. You know I will do nothing to hurt you.”

  “Then let us get some rest, tomorrow should be an exciting day. One way or another everything is going to change.” Ollie squeezed Joti’s hand one more time before strolling aft to his cabin with his bodyguard following a step behind.

 

  Ollie woke before first light, even before the smell of breakfast filled the ship. On deck, he found the small group of vessels he led had gathered shadows. Four small ships that flew Zar’s colors, a white tree on a light blue field, escorted them, their design different from Perdition’s ships, though clearly vessels built for speed and battle. He strolled to his favorite spot and found it occupied by the Visor. Dressed in his black robes of office, the man faced aft watching the ship come to life where Ollie preferred to look forward out over the water and the future.

  “Good morning, young prince, did you sleep well?”

  “As well as can be expected, I’ve no idea why my father sent me on this mission. I do hope you can keep me from screwing it up.”

  “I can assure you my orders are sealed, you have more information than I do. Once we obtain an audience with the Mother and deliver the message, we will both learn our duties.”

  “Why is father so secretive over this? He should know, if it has something to do with ending the war, I will support it.”

  “You are quickly approaching your sixteenth birthday. You knew eventually he would start trusting you. Perhaps this is his way of showing that trust?”

  “By keeping me in the dark? My father has a strange way of showing trust.”

  “This conflict has gone on for many months. It is a drain on our city’s economy. It must end, or we will go broke.”

  “You’re not telling me anything I don’t already know. This has been my argument from the beginning. Zar can’t compete with us in trade, we can’t compete with them in battle. We need to end this war and begin a new kind of conflict. One with trade not blades.”

  “It is a fine argument, one I believe to be correct. Now you need to speak to Mother Villa with such conviction. Only leave out the part about trade being a conflict. That doesn’t sound diplomatic.”

  The sun rising in the east, Ollie made out the dark outline of a shard directly ahead. “Is that Zar?” He motioned with his head.

  “That should be, yes. We will be there in a few hours. Eat a sound breakfast, one way or another, this is going to be an eventful grand day.” The Visor relinquished Ollie’s favorite spot as he pushed off the railings. “Now if you will excuse me, young prince, I should go prepare for the upcoming events. I suggest after breakfast you change into the proper clothes of a Prince of Perdition.”

  Ollie studied the dark island as it grew larger in the distance, he didn’t know why, but the melancholy returned. He knew his life was about to change, and there was nothing he could do about it. He pulled his hair back and tied it with a ribbon, a gift from Joti. At least he’d keep his hair out of his eyes while they sailed to his destiny, whether it be boon or doom.

 

  The closer they came to land the more ships fell in to escort them, all flying Za
r’s colors. The shard they approached was the home of Zar. Ollie found it very different from the land that Perdition clung to. Both were built among towering cliffs, but Perdition included many miles of land slightly above water level. This gave his city a flat surface upon which to grow out from.

  Zar was almost all cliff, but a pinnacle of land had eroded away from the primary island. That three-hundred-foot tall outcropping of granite created a natural harbor and fortification. This land, separated from the main sandstone island, was the home to the wealthiest of Zar’s residents. With the Matron’s Guild resting atop the pinnacle alongside the famed white oak tree of Zar.

  Upon the approach to their moorage, their escort ships held back. Only Ollie’s ship was allowed to enter the inner harbor and the dock. There he found a small connection between the larger island and the pinnacle. The two were connected by docks and taller buildings behind—either on land, stilts, or floating, Ollie wasn’t sure. He hoped to have a chance to study the city’s design more fully in the future.

  Everywhere he scanned, he spotted weapons of war. A leader would be insane to attack such a heavily guarded city from the sea. It would be impossible to defeat such fortifications. An army of children armed with rocks could keep the fiercest warriors at bay for years. He was not here to assess their defenses, no matter how impressive they may be. He decided to focus on the now instead of what might be.

  He was happy Joti traveled with him. Ollie was sure he would never have found the courage for this journey without him. They made their approach, and the Visor wouldn’t shut up. He kept rambling on about one thing or another, courtly dos and don’ts. Ollie was sure he should be paying attention, but he just couldn’t find the energy to do it. He’d spent his whole sixteen years being trained on what to do and how to do it. If he survived living with his other brothers and sisters—not to mention the untold bastard children sniffing around looking for money—he’d survive these tinkers. They were nothing more than laborers that grew influential in their guilds. The mother a Mason, the father a Brewer.