If someone had told him he would find Alex in Whitecliff Bay, a small harbour village close to the Horseshoe Mountains, he would not have believed them.
On the run for too many days, riding until Badger's horses almost collapsed and his bottom ached as much as the headache pounding from his neck to his temples, her sudden appearance among the Jade Islandic merchants seemed more a figment of his overactive imagination than the truth.
There came no heartfelt embrace or words fed by Kindness, just a lingering stare. He contemplated touching her arm, to assure she was as real as the rain soaking him to the bone. The bewildered look on her face, as well as the iron dagger in her hand, refrained him from doing so.
Did this mean Nick was here too? That they had not made it to Sundale after fleeing from Laneby? And Seb... what had happened to Seb? He had heard people talking of Prince Sebastian of The Greenlands. Surely Seb lived in Sunstone Castle now. So why didn't she?
"Why are you here? Where are the others?" he asked.
Her voice was as chilly as the biting wind as she returned the question. "Why are you here? With him." She beckoned at Katla.
"We want to travel to the Islands, together. He's my master," Fox explained, not ashamed. "He's not the evil man you think he is, Alex. We became friends."
"You didn't," she snapped. "How could you!"
"He was a man in pain, without a choice—I forgave him."
"Without a choice? He killed all those people, everyone we ever knew, Fox! He murdered my mother, Ben, and Charlie. Shot beams of green fire at everyone seeking safety in the River Faith. It's because of him that your mother is dead. Do you remember her—the woman you loved most of all in this world, the woman you wanted to marry when you were four?"
"Of course! But I'm no longer four years old, Alex. I'm eleven—a man, a Knight of Silvermark too."
A low mocking laugh escaped her. "A Knight of Silvermark. Is that why there's a price on your head?"
Before Fox could say anything, the white-haired Jade Islander behind him spoke, "It's true, Mum. Five hundred silverling for the man, and another five hundred for the boy, if he's alive. We won't find a better loot here."
Loot!
He had only ever heard that word in tales about Jade Islandic pirates terrorising Greenlander coasts. What were they doing in Whitecliff Bay?
Katla didn't meet his gaze so Fox hissed at Alex instead, "You're not merchants."
"And you don't want to go to the Islands, Knight," she spat.
"It's 'My Lord', actually."
She huffed. "No, it's not."
The God of Wrath climbed up his back as she turned away from him and slipped past Katla, joining the woman with six golden belts running from shoulder to waist.
Alex murmured something to the woman, receiving a glare and a feisty reply in return. "I know what they are, Greenie. Whatever past quarrels you have with them—hold your tongue."
Fox couldn't help but gloat. Her behaviour was just like in Laneby when she had belittled him and called him names. Alex never believed he was capable of doing anything. He was a nobody in her eyes, a freak, a Muttonhead.
She was so very wrong. All the foam of the Jade Sea stuffed in her tiny brain. He would show her; they had weeks together on their journey to the Islands. That was... if Katla managed to convince the woman.
"Captain, I won't deny my past, riddled with mistakes, terrible ones that I deeply regret," Katla said. "But I take it we both have our reasons to get away from this place, this country. Neither of us is wanted here, nor free from danger. You'll find Silvermark more hostile now that Caracal reigns from Moonstone Castle."
"I care very little for local politics. What do you offer?" The female Captain rubbed her fingers together. "I have a crew to feed and please. And they're not too fond of people like you."
"Yet here you are, in Whitecliff Bay." Katla cocked his head. "You were desperate enough to come here, and I'm desperate too. The boy... he's valuable, precious. He's like a son to me."
Her nails tapping the iron dagger, Alex rolled her eyes dramatically.
Fox snapped his fingers behind his back, imagining a powerful gust of wind and the rusty old thing at the bottom of the bay.
The air obeyed his will, blowing her hair in front of her eyes. Her grip slipped and catapulted the dagger onto the deck and landed into the water with a loud splash.
Good riddance.
When the Captain shot her eyes at her, Alex clutched to the rail and pretended nothing had happened. She didn't even look at him, wouldn't even consider that he had been the one who had made her drop the weapon.
That infuriated him even more.
Katla continued. "Captain, you would do anything for your son too, wouldn't you?"
"Is that a threat?"
Katla held his hands up. "Just a talk, parent to parent. I want the boy to be safe."
"And I want my boy to be grand," she said. "What's in it for me, mage?"
"More than what the Silvermarkers offer."
"Well... well... a Silvermarker with money. You have not all gone extinct."
Katla reached into the pocket of his coat and withdrew a piece of parchment. "I'm not a Silvermarker."
"You're no Islander to me either," she said, studying the document that was as drenched as the rest of the town.
She held the parchment in front of her, looked at Katla, then back at the parchment. Her interest was piqued, as planned; it was all money Katla had in some Jade Islandic bank. He always took it with him on his travels, to always have a fallback scenario when things went south. Or when he had to go south; Fox hadn't really understood his master's explanation to Badger.
"Where did you get this kind of money?" The Captain asked.
"I married rich."
"And your wife?"
"Murdered by Greenlanders."
"Bastards," she muttered. "Then why settle for Silvermark—why not go more north, to Ice?"
"It's complicated."
"This situation is complicated, mage!"
Katla paused, stroking his longer-than-usual beard. "I have a condition," he said after a while.
"The fools take anyone to work in their mines," she jeered. "Or are you afraid of getting your face dirty, Pretty Boy?"
"Does the promise paper look like I would need to work in the mines?"
"The thing is..." The woman glanced over her shoulder at the tall, broad Scorian man who had joined her on deck, holding his hand on his sword. She handed Katla the document back. "... I've learnt that when matters look too good to be true, they usually are. Especially when mages are involved."
"Look, if it's the validity of the paper you doubt, I can go with you to the bank. You can execute me where I stand if it's fake."
"But by then you and your boy will have long reached the Islands, or drowned me and my crew, nicking my ship from under our very noses.
"We won't do that!" Fox shouted. He pointed at Alex, wishing if there was any drop of their friendship left, she would honour it. "She can vouch for us."
Everyone turned their heads towards Alex, all except for the white-haired man and the younger Jade Islandic woman who had stood behind him and were now gone. He didn't give it another thought, not with Alex standing there, biting her lip.
She walked up to Katla, looking up at him. A hate so fierce burnt in her eyes that no magician alive would be able to conjure such flames.
"You're at my mercy as I was once at yours," she said.
"I let you go," Katla said. He kneeled for Alex, stretching his arms. "I wasn't going to kill an Islander girl."
"No, you needed me—the sole survivor who spreads the news. You left your mark on me, Magician. I remember every word you spat at me, feel shivers running on my back when I think back of the moment you held me in that magical chokehold of yours. 'When you get to Sundale, tell your King that Laneby has fallen, that King Ariel is coming to claim his throne. It's nothing personal—Half-Ear Tom will know what it's about.'" A smile darted on her face, an actual laugh not far away. "But I wasn't the sole survivor. There was another boy, and the Prince himself was galloping through the burning forest, further and further away from the massacre. Your plan failed. The Greenlander throne is stronger than before—King and heir united in a magician-free country."
Then why was she here? Fox couldn't bear standing by and doing nothing. "Enough blood has been spilt, Alex. You're better than this. Please give us a chance. All we want to do is travel to the Islands. We won't be any bother."
She looked at him. No, not at him, over him.
He kept the growing power of Wrath at bay, deciding to change strategy. "I don't know if you've heard, but King Ariel is dead. It was me, Alex. He's dead because of me, because of something I did. That's why we have to run."
His confession took her aback, made her acknowledge him. Disbelief laced her voice. "You did that?"
He nodded. While it had been the Grandmaster's grief that had killed the royal family, they would all still be alive if he hadn't taken Felix down to the cave. Alex didn't need to know all the details, though.
"You made the foundations of Moonstone Castle collapse?"
"Yes." A lie as white as the sails, ignoring the bit of dirty grey in them.
"Good. I'm glad."
He wasn't. But he wasn't going to tell her.
Then her face changed.
Footsteps approached behind him. Murmuring voices.
"I'm sorry, Fox. I'm so sorry," she said.
For a single heartbeat, Fox felt content, pleased. A flicker of the old Alex had returned, the one who had been his friend.
All of that changed when long chains of pure iron whooshed up from behind, whistling, almost hissing through the air. One around Katla's right arm, the other around his left arm. His neck shackled. A fourth one around his waist.
Katla pulled at his iron prison, roaring. He was yanked back. The flames he conjured in his hands reduced the sparks that held no power.
"Run!" he yelled at Fox.
But Fox had nowhere to go. Cornered between the ship and the dozen of soldiers of Silvermark, all clad in iron. Some carried a crossbow, the pointy arrows aimed at him. Others threw more chains.
He ducked. The iron snakes bit his shoulder but didn't grab him.
Behind the soldiers stood a man with white hair and strange eyes. The Captain's son. He had betrayed them.
Two arrows whizzed past him, missing him by a hair.
His pent-up anger had risen to a level he could no longer control. A feral force in him took over, a rumble that came from deep within, that shook the earth beneath his feet.
He leapt up, riding on a stream of passing wind, and hurled emerald green flames as he tumbled around. Up and down shifted as much as left and right.
He hit the man muzzling Katla like an ordinary animal. One soldier down. A lucky shot. But too close to his master writhing an all fours, unable to break free.
A third arrow soared towards Fox, making him totter, then lose balance. He banged against the ship's sail, his clawing resulting in the fabric blazing with fire, tearing into two.
More men and women appeared on the deck, screaming, running. A green beam slammed into a pirate's side. He (or she—he couldn't tell) jumped into the water.
His next blow created a wall of fire between the ship and the quay.
The pirates were trapped.
Gods! Alex was one of them.
Her lips moved; his name resounded through the bay as the dark-skinned man grabbed and dived to safety before the flapping sail swung into their direction.
Fox found his grip on the wind and soared above the crow's nest. With a single motion, he flung Alex and the unknown Scorian into the sea, away from the flames.
He turned around, facing the soldiers.
Chaos reigned down below as they retreated to the stalls. A mistake; he had them cornered now.
Sour yet burning hot fire erupted from his mouth, becoming the dragon he always wanted to be. Unfortunately, it was highly ineffective: a formation of shields turned the group into a giant, protective turtle absorbing the heat.
Feeling weak and weary, he recalled the happiness of reuniting with his master. As long as Katla was there, there was hope.
Before Fox regained his full strength, a few shields lowered. He expected them to aim their crossbows at him, but none of the arrows were pointing at him; all at Katla, whom they had managed to mask. Chained from neck to feet; a prison of iron.
They pulled at his limbs.
Fox conjured a ball of fire and threatened to throw it. "Let him go!"
"One wrong move, and your master dies!" shouted one of the soldiers. He jabbed the sharp arrow against Katla's ear.
The ball dissolved.
Behind him, the ship groaned under the weight of the crackling wood. A gust of wind blew the flames from port to starboard, and from the lower to the upper decks. The powerless rain fell down with a smoking hiss.
"Kill him!" the white-haired Jade Islander yelled. "The boy should be alive, but you can kill the man."
Of course, they needed him alive. He had killed the King; no ordinary soldier was allowed to take his life; that honour fell upon the King's successor. Not Felix—he had heard the rumours on the road that his friend had not survived his wounds—but Caracal.
This was an opportunity. A weakness to exploit.
A bit further, on the other side of the burning inferno, pirates were climbing out of the water. Alex heaved herself up on an iron ring normally used to anchor small fishing boats.
She dashed away from the ship, from the wharf, from him. Not looking backwards, not a single glance.
A coward's escape; was this the ungrateful gratitude he got for saving her?
The main mast toppled over the port side, into the sea with a crashing splash. The enormous waves exposed the rusty dagger Fox had knocked out of Alex's hands. As though the Gods were presenting the solution on a platter; the weapon needed to escape, to save Katla, and never return.
Unable to reach the dagger without any sudden movements, he decided to stall time. "Why are you arresting us? They're pirates! They come to steal your silverlings and hurt your women. You should be arresting them!"
A second soldier scoffed. "I don't care what you Greenlanders think about Islanders, but they have been on their best behaviour here. No complaints. They are simple merchants—that's all."
He fidgeted with his fingers, remembering every lesson with Storm. Feel the air. Imagine the surroundings. Concentrate. Bubbles of air formed in the water, picking up the dagger. Pull as though pulling an invisible string.
Add a good prayer to the Goddess of Charity.
"But I'm innocent," he said, playing dumb.
"That's not what I heard you say, Kingkiller."
Instantly, shackles flew through the air. The iron clapped against his arm but didn't wrap around him. Not with him using the commotion below to reach for the dagger shooting up from the water and coming to him.
He grabbed the hilt and pointed the blade at his heart. "I demand my master to be released!"
From beneath him came buzzing and nervous chatting; the shuffling of feet.
The soldiers did nothing, merely stared at him.
And with good reason. He was floating down, losing the air beneath his feet. His powers at the end of their strength.
Happy thoughts! Katla was the father he never had, the man he loved more than anyone else in this world. Without him, he could not live; did not want to live.
Not a happy thought. His bones ached, his muscles cramped up.
He was still a feather drifting down.
As a final resort, he pushed the blade deeper against his chest, feeling the point poking his skin. His heart hammered against it. "Release him! I swear it... I'll do it. I'm a dead man walking..."
"No, you're just a boy."
The white-haired Jade Islander, who had snagged a crossbow, aimed it at him, then pulled the trigger. The arrow shot approached him with magnificent speed.
Too tired, too surprised to duck, Fox's breath hitch as the iron bolt pierced the iron dagger to his hand.
He screamed.
One by one, chains were thrown at him, yanking him out of the air. The weight of all pain he had felt since that unfortunate night in Moonstone Castle pounded down on him.
He had tried, tried so hard.
Before he smacked to the ground, he saw Alex running.
Towards him.