Ashen ran down the halls to the guest rooms. She nearly collided with Stark. Her eyes noticed him just in time. She almost fell trying not to run into him.
"Captain, what's going on?" he asked.
"Find Smiegal—find anyone in our crew. Tell them we're leaving, immediately," she ordered. "I'm going after my father."
She was lucky enough to find George in his room. His hands were bandaged from the fight. The beating, more accurately. Ashen pushed the topic from her mind.
"We have to leave," she announced.
"Why?" he asked, leaping from the desk. The chair fell to the floor.
"Were you able to get the amulet?" she demanded. "Please tell me you have the amulet."
He tossed a chain and engraved stone to her. She caught it. A slight prickling sensation emanated in her fingers.
"You tell me."
She slipped it on quickly. Pondering its possible properties was a task for later.
"Do I even want to know how you got this?" she asked. He shook his head. Shrugging, she said, "Inara knows."
His face fell.
"Where is she?"
"Not a problem right now," Ashen replied. "Pack up everything you can before everyone gets here."
She dashed back to her room. Once she made sure that she had everything, she shoved it all back into her carpetbag. She did not like treating her possessions like that, but she had little choice.
After a minute or so, she returned to the hallway. Smiegal and Stark were not back yet, but George had summoned the other crewmembers. They looked confused. He must not have told them the situation. Not all of it, anyway.
"Where are they," she muttered, thinking of the two who were missing. She had just started to get really worried when at last they rounded the corner.
"They know," Ashen stated.
Two words and everyone understood.
They had to leave.
The crew was at the dock not quite half an hour later. Avoiding other people is hard enough when you are not in a large group. George summoned one of the boatmen. Ashen was breathing heavily. Smiegal was still having trouble. According to Ileo, George had fractured several of his ribs.
She dreaded spending the next several weeks confined on the ship with them.
"Will you be alright without healing?" Ashen asked her quartermaster. Their fight seemed petty compared to the current situation.
"We could kidnap a healer," Cecco joked. Ashen glared at him. He lowered his eyes.
Shrugging the best he could, Smiegal replied, "I think so. I might be a little weak for a while."
"I might have the ingredients for a healing potion. It won't do much, but—"
"It would be much appreciated," Smiegal cut in.
"Are you sure Inara did not tell anyone?" George asked Ashen quietly.
"No," she admitted. "She could have told them before talking to me. She implied she was waiting for me, but it could have easily been a ruse."
"Even if they know," Cecco said, "we can still outrun them."
"We hope," George added.
"I'm trying to stay positive," Cecco replied defensively.
Suppressing a grin, Ashen ordered, "Just get into the boat."
The crewmembers filed in slowly so as not to tip over the small vessel. Ashen got in last. Her father offered a bruised hand to help her. She ignored him and settled in on her own. If he was offended, he did not let on.
They sat in silence for roughly thirty minutes. Each person took a turn rowing until they reached their ship.
Jukes appeared above them.
"What's happened?" he asked when he saw the look on her face.
"No questions!" Ashen called up to him. "Throw down the ladder!"
He complied. Once the rope ladder was secure, Ashen let the others climb up first. George hesitated.
"Ashen, you go next," he told her.
"Fine," she agreed. He tried to help her secure her footing, but she managed to do it on her own.
"Do we have a problem?" he inquired.
Continuing to climb, she replied, "Not right now. Maybe once we are in the clear."
He relented and followed her onto the ship.
"You can leave!" Smiegal called down to their guide. He did not need telling twice. The boat began to fade away slowly.
Ashen walked to the helm. She began to steer them away from the dock. Hopefully, no one would try to stop them. Ashen was praying Inara had not told anyone yet. For so long they had stayed away from the Azurians. Getting caught now would be excruciating.
When they were about ten minutes from the dock, Jukes called, "Another ship just left the dock."
"Flags?" Smiegal asked.
Stopping his work, Jukes grabbed a telescope and peered at it. He paled.
"Blue."
Ashen snatched her own telescope and took a look for herself. Sure enough, the Azurian symbol—a purple and blue Azurian rose atop a book—was printed prominently on the flags. She cursed. Inara had told them. Her talk with Ashen had been a ploy. She felt so stupid.
"George!" she called. "Do you recognize the ship?"
"The name's The Oaken," Jukes added helpfully.
"Creative," Cecco muttered.
"She's a fast one," George said. "When I left, they hadn't even started building her. With so many years on it, the Jolly Roger just can't compete with her speed, especially if the Azurians use a speed spell. We should be able to outgun them, though."
"Not my style," Ashen said ruefully.
"It may have to be." Looking at her worried face, he admitted, "If we have the right wind, with our head start, we may well be able to stay ahead. They might keep following us, but once we get through the rocks, they might turn back."
"We had better find the right wind, then."
"And our own speed spell," Smiegal advised. She snapped her fingers.
"I forgot I had that," she muttered. "Let me fetch my things. I think I have one prepared."
She dashed to her quarters, being careful not to slip on the water aboard. Inside, she easily found her carpet bag. It was stuffed full of all sorts of things. She noticed the blood stain on the floor. She knelt down and rubbed it. A little blood came off, which was unnerving.
Quickly, she searched her desk drawers for some enchanting power. She found it and smeared it across her fingers. It shimmered for a moment before vanishing. She reached up, finding her glass shard and clasping it. She repeated the words of the speed spell
On her way out, Ashen noticed the hat she had worn the day in Carmine. She grabbed it, putting it on and stuffing all of her hair into it. It was hardly full proof, but it would prevent the Azurians from recognizing her at a distance.
She ran to join the crew on deck. Seeing the Azurian vessel had made serious ground on them, Ashen cursed.
"Did you perform the spell?" Smiegal asked.
"Aye. We only pray it does any good."
"They're gaining on us!" Jukes exclaimed.
Faster, Ashen thought. Come on, girl, faster.
The others shared her worried looks.
"What will happen if they catch us?"
"We will have to surrender or risk being fired upon," George said gravely. "They will likely recognize me immediately, and thereby arrest me. Same goes for the rest of you. Smiegal and Ashen have a chance of receiving immunity."
Everyone exchanged glances. Ashen could tell by the look on her quartermaster's face he was again regretting telling them all who he was.
"Is there any spell to distort your appearance?" Cecco asked.
Sadly, Ashen shook her head. "The charming spell can make you look more desirable, and blur your real appearance, though the royal family will recognize its trace and merely wait until it wears away."
"What good is magic then?" Stark grumbled.
"Good enough to get us this far," George said. "The speed spell should begin working any moment now."
"Perhaps a moment too late," Ashen muttered. "Not to mention they can replicate it, if they have a sorcerer aboard."
Jukes peered again through his telescope.
"They are still gaining," he told them.
"I think we have no choi—"
The ship lurched, speeding ahead. Some of them were knocked off their feet. Ashen almost toppled over, but Smiegal grabbed her arm just in time to heave her back onto her feet.
"Not a fine time to go swimming, captain," he said with a grin.
"You stole my line," Ashen complained. Then she added, "Thanks, though."
Looking out at sea, she said, "I think we may have a chance now."
Setting down the telescope, Jukes stated, "Not much of one."
"Enough of one, we hope," Stark said.
The entire crew ran about, making sure everything was secure. They double-checked the ropes, mast, and lastly the canons. If they were to be captured, it was not to be because of lack of effort.
Unable to think of anything else to check, Ashen began pacing. The over-obsessive checking and the pacing alternated for the next ten minutes. Every member of the crew was waiting for the inevitable.
They were waiting to be caught.
Everyone was shaken when the boat stopped abruptly. Ashen's head jerked instinctively in the direction of the sails. Her eyes widening, she found they were completely flat, rolled together as though tied.
Swearing prolifically, she exclaimed, "They used a binding spell! They bound our sails!"
"Can you undo it?"
She shook her head. "It is nearly impossible to undo another sorcerer's spell, or so I've heard. Had I not already cast a speed spell, I could cast one now, but spells cannot be cast in immediate succession."
"So what are our options?" Stark asked.
"We could surrender," Jukes suggested half-heartedly.
"Not going to happen," George stated.
Glancing at Smiegal, Ashen replied, "It might be the best way to keep our rights."
"They will not give us any rights," George said.
As Ashen expected, Smiegal came to her defense, saying, "We could negotiate the terms."
"The Azures will not be negotiating," George predicted. "At this point, we have to presume they know who at least some of us are."
"That wretch Inara," Ashen muttered.
"One of the royals might have recognized me at dinner and told the Azurians," George reasoned.
"But Inara told me she knew who we were," Ashen reminded them. "I should have punched her lights out."
"She had probably already told her family, and perhaps the Azurians, when she came to see you," Smiegal pointed out. "Why else would she try to entice you to betray him?" He frowned. "That is what she did, isn't?"
Ashen nodded.
Shooting a look at the fast approaching ship, Stark whispered, "I still think surrender is—"
"Not an option," George snapped.
"You're the expert," Cecco said.
"We need to make a decision quickly," Smiegal told them. "The Azurians are almost upon us."
"Perhaps we could," Ashen began. She trailed off, smelling something in the air. Her eyes narrowed.
"What is that smell?" she asked, praying it was only one of the crew.
"It smells like cinnamon," one of them said; she was not focused on the voice.
"Are you certain?"
A few of them nodded. She tensed. She searched through every spell in her repertoire.
What does cinnamon do? she wondered. She recalled that, combined with lavender, it could cause someone to become dreary and weak. But why would it be there in the middle of . . .
Her eyes widened.
"Get down!" she cried. Everyone dropped to the deck. Ropes flew over their head. Ashen jumped up and grabbed one. The force of it yanked her to the side. She peered down and found people in blue uniforms scaling the sides of the boat. They came from a small rowboat, one out of view of the telescope. Some Carminians accompanied the Azurian forces.
It was an ambush.
"We are outnumbered!" she cried, oblivious to how much of the cinnamon-lavender mixture she was inhaling. Without her consent, her limbs began to grow heavy.
Stark caught her before she hit the deck.
"I have you, cap . . ." he trailed off, the elixir affecting him as well. They both crashed to the floor of the deck. Ashen tried to push herself up, but her body wanted her to go to sleep. Her mind had other plans.
She forced herself onto her knees. Smiegal, mouth closed, helped keep her sturdy. It did not matter. Even if they did not become prey to the spell, they could not wage a fair fight under the conditions. The Viridians were ruthless barbarians, but the Azurians were smart enough to cheat.
A sword tip appeared at her throat. As foggy as her mind was, she half-expected it to belong to Peder. It did not.
A man with auburn hair yanked her from the ground. George rushed to her defense, punching the man in the cheek. Ashen could hear his bone crack. Men hurried forward to apprehend her father. This jarred her mind, or perhaps her sorcerer's blood was enabling her to fight off the spell. Either way, she found herself withdrawing her sword. She flashed with no focus, no intention but protecting her father. Blood sprayed. She supposed she had hit her target.
She whirled to fight off another soldier. Her eyes clouded; she could barely see them. She could hear other swords clashing, signs that the crew had enough to strength to put up a fight.
Her opponent slashed at her chest. She had found herself a new chest plate sometime the night before and was protected from the blow. She responded by slashing her own blade upward. It was intercepted by a force, not a sword, but something fleshier.
Even drugged she could still put up a decent fight.
Before she could plunge her blade into the man's, or woman's, chest, she felt a blow from behind her. She began to fall forward, barely catching herself with her hands. They stung with the force, and her head stung from whatever she had been hit with.
"Parlay," she whispered as her head hit the deck. Her eyes shut of their own accord before she could hear their reply.