Chapter 29

Noah, Ciri, and Ken sat slumped against the wall in the pitch-dark room. They’d been there for what felt like a full day already, having been separated from both Hannah and their bags the moment they boarded Ohnar’s ship—one they’d learned was somewhat ostentatiously named The Creditor. The wooden floor beneath them felt damp, and beyond the iron bars holding them in, they could hear the squeaks of stowaway rats scurrying about.

At least we’re together, Noah thought to himself as Ciri moved closer to him.

“Alright, you lot!” a voice shouted from above as the hatch leading to the upper floors of the ship opened. “Dinner time!”

A human man wandered down, carrying a tray laden with bowls in one hand and a lit lantern in the other. He had scraggly brown hair and a thick beard, and a sword strapped to his hip. A set of keys clinked in the pocket of his brown cloth pants, and his stained, off-white shirt hung open to reveal his hairy chest.

The pirate placed the tray beside his black boots before reaching into his pocket. “Turn around and arms against the wall while this is open, or else I’ll gut you like a fucking fish.”

The three of them scrambled to comply, eager to feed their now-empty stomachs. Noah listened as the keys jangled before the lock clicked. A moment later it swung inward, the hinges squeaking before the door hit the iron bars of the cage behind it.

A heartbeat later, Ken reached for his belt, then turned partially and twitched his arm. A gurgling, choking sound emanated from the guard’s throat behind them, causing Noah to risk turning to look. His eyes went wide as Ken darted forward, catching the man and gently guiding him to the ground so he wouldn’t make a sound.

Noah narrowed his eyes at the man’s neck. That’s a dart. Where did he hide that?

“I could use some help,” Ken whispered.

Realizing he was still staring in shock, Noah quickly padded over to the man. He checked for a pulse and found none before unbuckling the guard’s belt and handing it to the elderly Fae. Pushing his revulsion down, he patted the corpse next, finding a few gold coins and a knife in his boot.

“You could have told me your plan,” Noah whispered as he handed the weapons to Ken.

Ken strapped the sword to his waist before replying. “If I had, you might have looked at my belt and given away the ruse. You needed to be ignorant for it to be believable.”

“Isn’t that lying?” Noah asked.

“Can we debate that later?” Ken shot back.

“Right,” Noah said, looking between him and Ciri. “What’s the plan?”

“It should be dark by now,” Ken replied. “So many of them will be asleep. That gives us a window of opportunity to very quietly move to the top deck and use the tow rope to return to The Winter’s Debt. Then we cut it and sail away before they notice we are gone.”

“A good plan.” Noah nodded, thinking. “It’d be better if we disabled their steering along the way. Then, even once they do notice, they won’t be able to follow for a bit, giving us a head start.”

“How?”

He thought about his lessons about ship steering mechanisms with Hannah before replying. “The steering wheel on the top deck. Did you see it when they brought us aboard?”

“Yes.”

“There should be some ropes or cables or something at the back connecting it to the steering mechanism belowdecks. Cut them. It’ll probably only buy us a few minutes, but that might make a big difference.”

“What about my grimoire? Our evidence? Your griffon egg?” Ciri whispered. “Or Hannah?”

“It’s not worth our lives,” Ken countered, extinguishing the lantern and plunging them into total darkness once more.

“We can’t just leave her,” Noah said.

“You heard her yourself—we are passengers, nothing more. Would you sacrifice Ciri for her?” He narrowed his eyes. “Because that is what you are suggesting.”

Noah grit his teeth. “That’s not what I’m suggesting. What I’m saying is that it feels wrong to abandon her.”

“You care for her,” Ciri stated softly.

“I don’t think the fact that she’s frustrating should be a death sentence.”

“If we get the chance, we’ll free her,” Ken offered. “But our priority needs to be escaping.”

“Fine,” Noah said. “Let’s get this over with.”

Ken handed him the knife a moment later before stalking up the ladder in the darkness. They followed, climbing as quietly as they could before stopping on the next floor. For a full minute they waited and listened, ensuring that nobody was on their way down to check on the missing guard.

What followed was probably the most nerve-wracking twenty minutes of Noah’s life so far. His heart pounded in his ears as they crept through the narrow wooden hallways of the ship in the dark, making as little sound as possible. Every whisper, creaking board, and shuffled footstep seemed to echo far louder than it should have, keeping his adrenaline at the absolute maximum.

By contrast, Ken seemed completely calm through the entire affair. He had an almost supernatural sense for when someone was approaching, ensuring they backtracked and hid before they were found. At one point Noah watched a pair of drunken pirates stumble past them in the dark. He peeked around the barrel he was hiding behind at the darkened corner that concealed Ken, only to find no trace of him.

He’s way too good at this, Noah couldn’t help but think once the pirates entered their cabin and the three of them emerged from their hiding places.

As they reached the upper floors, Noah began to catch glimpses of the outside through windows and gaps in the boards, seeing that night had indeed fallen. When they finally reached the ladder to the top deck, they paused, with Ken slowly climbing and peeking his head up to see whether there were any sentries posted. While he was up there, a familiar cry rang out from a nearby cabin.

Noah froze, listening as a woman’s voice cried out in pain again. That’s Hannah.

“There are two guards,” Ken reported, climbing back down. “One in the crow’s nest above the mast. The other at the wheel.”

“Hannah is in the cabin behind us,” Noah said. “I’m sure of it.”

There was a long silence before Ken spoke. “You wish to rescue her.”

“I want to try.”

“Very well. I will go and—”

“No. The two of you need to go to the deck and deal with the guards,” Noah interrupted. “I’ll get Hannah.”

“Why?” Ciri asked.

“Because depending on how the next few minutes go, we might need a quick escape.”

“Donn guide your blade,” Ken replied.

Noah squeezed Ciri’s hand one final time before letting go and creeping toward the sound of Hannah’s voice. While he couldn’t make out distinct words, he noted that she’d stopped screaming and was speaking once more. He tried the door handle to the cabin, finding it unlocked.

Here goes.

As quietly as he could, Noah opened the door and slipped inside. He crouched and closed the door behind him, finding himself in a small entryway filled with coats, boots, and bags strewn about. Ohnar’s and Hannah’s voices carried from the room beyond, and the soft glow of lanterns cast the whole area in a flickering orange light.

Taking a long, calming breath, he began to slowly creep through the entryway. Unfortunately, he made it all of three steps before tripping over a pair of boots, knocking them over with a thud. The sound of voices stopped suddenly as Noah cursed his luck, holding his breath.

Ken made this look so easy.

“Come on then.” Hannah’s raspy voice taunted the pirate, coughing before continuing. “Or are you not man enough to finish what you started?”

“Oh, you’re going to regret that you whore.” Ohnar replied, venom in his voice. “Magnus might want you alive, but he didn’t say you had to be conscious.”

Noah’s breath hitched as he looked down and saw three familiar bags on the floor. They were still fully packed—his crossbow still strapped to the side of his pack. Despite everything, a grin crept across his face as he loosened the straps, picked up the weapon, and checked it over.

Still loaded.

He pressed himself against the corner wall leading to the rest of the room and peered around. The sight was so bizarre he had to blink twice to be sure he wasn’t imagining it. When he was certain, he levelled the crossbow and rounded the corner.

To his left, a bank of large windows looked out over the ocean. Even in the dim light he could see several tow ropes attached to The Winter’s Debt, pulling it in the ship’s wake. In front of the windows sat a row of desks, papers, books, maps, and charts neatly arranged.

To his right stood a trophy case: gold-encrusted swords beside pearl necklaces, bejeweled statuettes, and enormous rings. An oversized metal trunk sat on the floor in front of it, locked tight but with a set of keys hanging from the lock.

Noah barely registered any of it.

Ahead, a bed held Hannah, strapped down with iron manacles. Bruises and cuts mottled her skin; red blood stained the white sheets beneath her. Ohnar stood over her with a curved knife in hand, his back to the door.

“Scream and you’re dead,” Noah said in a low voice. “Take off her restraints slowly.”

Ohnar froze. “How did you—”

“Less talking. More unlocking.”

“Or what? You’re not close enough to stab me, I know that.” He glanced at his reflection in the window. “What’s that in your hands?”

“You’ll find out the hard way if you don’t get moving.”

The room held its breath, then Ohnar spun as if to throw the knife. Noah pulled the trigger without thinking. The bolt flew the ten meters between them and buried itself twelve centimetres into the pirate’s left eye before Ohnar could react.

He collapsed, dead before he hit the floor.

“You weren’t kidding,” Hannah said, coughing. “That thing’s not bad.”

A hollow emptiness washed over Noah as he let the crossbow hang from its strap and stared at the body. “I…killed him.”

“Yeah, that was kinda the point.” She studied his face, the realization settling in. “Oh fuck. You’ve never killed before, have you?”

“Corrupted,” Noah muttered.

“Okay. Look at me.” She coughed, then forced her voice into something firmer. “Look at me.”

Fighting the numbness, Noah met her eyes. “What?”

“You did what you had to do. You’re going to feel a lot of things in the next few days.” Another coughing fit. “I can help you. But not if we stay here.”

Noah blinked and nodded. “Okay.”

“You need to get the keys. They’re in his chest, over there.”

Doing his best not to look at the corpse, Noah moved to the chest. The key ring was stuck fast; when he turned it, the lock clicked open and one ring slipped free.

“Good. Now unlock my hand,” Hannah coached. “Then give me the keys and I’ll do the rest.”

Mind still foggy, Noah tried keys until one fit. She moved quickly—unlocking her other hand, then her legs. She grabbed a gold pitcher of water, drank most of it, and poured the rest over herself.

“That’s better,” she said, shaking water from her hair.

Her white shirt clung to her, translucent and revealing, but Noah’s attention stayed on the angry red wounds along her torso and arms. His analytical mind took over.

“You’re hurt,” he said, moving closer.

“I’ll be fine. I’ve seen worse.” She found her vest and threw it on.

“Just let me—”

“Look!” she interrupted, pointing out the window.

A pink-haired figure slid down a rope toward The Winter’s Debt, hood thrown back. Another figure followed. The emotional weight bearing down on Noah’s shoulders lifted somewhat at the sight of their escape. He listened to make sure there was no shouting following their escape, then turned back to find Hannah kneeling by the now-unlocked trunk.

“Come on,” she urged. “Stuff whatever you can in your pockets, then let’s get out of here.”

He hesitated until she wrenched the trunk open, revealing a pile of gold and gems. Remembering how little money he had left, Noah moved to the entryway to grab their bags. He wedged a chair between the door and the floor to buy them a few extra seconds.

He checked the packs—his griffon egg, Ken’s evidence and writ, and Ciri’s grimoire were all there—then hauled them to Hannah and dropped them at her feet. “Here. Bigger than your pockets.”

She grinned, a flash of her old cockiness returning. “I knew I liked you for a reason.”

“Hurry.”

“It’d go faster if you helped me.”

Nodding, Noah stuffed handfuls of gold into the bags until they bulged. They rifled the trophy case for anything small enough to carry. After a few seconds Hannah cried out and held up a familiar short sword.

“Hah! I knew I’d get my sword back.”

“Anything else worth taking?” Noah asked.

She scanned the case again. “Most of this looks gold-plated, not solid…except that.” She pointed to the corner.

Noah opened the glass and found several small ivory statuettes, a silver ring, and a black pen on red velvet. He scooped up the pen and held it to the light; unlike Ken’s and Cael’s, it threw a reddish hue.

A writ.

Polite knocking and a voice calling for the captain snapped him back. He swiped the silver ring, stuffed it into his pocket with the writ, grabbed the bags, and moved to the window. Coins tumbled from the overstuffed packs as he went; the knocking grew urgent.

He lashed the bags together with their straps and hauled them onto his back. “Open the window,” he grunted.

“I can take one of—” Hannah began.

“Open the fucking window,” Noah snapped.

Hannah found the latches and threw the window wide. Noah staggered after her under the weight. The pounding on the door turned to shouts as he climbed onto the desk and handed her his grappling hook.

“Toss it over that line.”

“Thanks, I figured that part out myself,” she shot back.

She looped the rope around them both and tied it tight. As the pirates began to batter the door, she locked eyes with him—her blue-grey meeting his green.

“Ready?” she asked, taking his hand.

“Ready,” he said.

They leapt into the dark. The line caught and bowed under their weight; for a heartbeat Noah feared they’d hit the black water, but a swell lifted them and they slammed onto the deck of The Winter’s Debt, bags and limbs scattering.

“Noah!” Ciri cried, running to him.

“I’m fine,” he waved, though he felt like he’d broken something. “Heal Hannah. She’s worse off.”

“I need my grimoire!” Ciri protested.

“Bag!” Noah shouted, pointing to the backpack a few feet away.

She dove for it, paused at the sight of gold, then dug through until she found her spellbook. She sprinted to Hannah’s side and flipped through pages by moonlight for a healing spell.

While Ciri worked, Ken cut the tow line. He sawed at the thick rope with his knife until it frayed and snapped. The Winter’s Debt shuddered as it came free; everyone staggered to steady themselves.

“Tiller,” Hannah croaked as Ciri began to mend her.

Noah sprinted aft, grabbed the long pole attached to the tiller, and turned it. They broke away from the pirates. He scanned the horizon, finding no sign of Ohnar’s second ship.

The image of the dead pirate flashed through his mind.

He wrestled with his feelings as the ship picked up speed. Hannah climbed into her cabin to fetch more spells; once back on deck she raised the sails and compelled the water to push them forward, then took the tiller from him.

“I’ve got it from here,” she said.

“You’re still hurt,” Noah protested.

“I’ll be fine.”

“You keep saying that.”

She rolled her eyes as Ciri and Ken returned, having cleared the deck. “What’s the plan, captain?” Ken asked, a weary grin on his face.

“We need distance,” Hannah said. “And unless any of you can navigate by the stars, I’ll be here for the night.”

“I’ll keep you company for a few hours,” Ken offered. “Let me secure my bag belowdecks and I’ll be back up.”

“I will do the same and prepare our hammock,” Ciri added, squeezing Noah’s arm before disappearing.

Noah watched her go, then looked back at Hannah. The dead captain’s face still burned in his memory. “Does it get easier?” he asked hollowly.

Hannah’s voice softened in a way he’d never heard before. “No. But you get better at carrying it.” She nodded toward the hatch. “She loves you, you know. Go to her. Talk to her. Lean on her for support. You’ll need it.”