It’s Monday! That means a new chapter of ADTR to cram into your eye-holes :) A quick note on the image below: I don’t own it, and I’ve linked to the artist who does (it’s a free download for use with an RPG). But it’s the closest I’ve come to finding something that looks much like Rakka does in my head.

Previously: After being reunited and with limited success interrogating the shapechanger who’d taken Derro’s place, the crew decided to head south to Rakka and meet with Molly.

Currently: The Talon reach Rakka and start getting up to speed with fresh information.

A Dread Tide Rising is a serialized, pulp-flavored, epic fantasy novel that follows the Talon, a group of mercenaries, thieves, and smugglers, as they come face-to-face with an ancient enemy intent on the destruction of the Rakkian Empire.

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Chapter 26

The cries of seabirds rent the morning air.

“Steady on,” Padraig said, gripping the steering oar as Sparrowhawk cut through the water and entered the Inner Ring. The Sun Mount, home to Rakka’s emperor, reared up to starboard. The city sprawled along the lines of the bay but then wound itself up the steep flank of the mountain, one level giving way to the next, each more opulent than the one below until the visitor was finally deposited at the very top. The Black Keep dominated the top of the Sun Mount, its dark bulk dwarfing most of the other buildings, except for one.

“What’s that?” Mac asked, indicating a pyramidal building at the top of the Sun Mount, built slightly behind the emperor’s palace.

Kye squinted in the morning sunlight. “You mean the pyramid?”

Mac nodded.

“That’s the Temple of the One God,” Kye answered.

Mac stared up at it for a moment longer. “A little ostentatious. When did they build that?”

“They finished it about a year ago. When were you last in Rakka?”

Mac shrugged. “It’s been a while, I’ll say that. Did a job or two in the Inner Rings a while back, but haven’t been closer in years. We usually connect with Molly away from here. Her work takes her all over the Empire, so avoiding the city proper usually isn’t a problem.”

The Talon were silent, staring up at Sun Mount as Sparrowhawk entered the harbor proper.

“Right,” Mac broke the silence. “We need to get a couple of things straight before we go ashore.” He looked meaningfully at Kye. “You’re in some danger from the Faceless if you’re found.”

Kye swallowed hard and nodded, remembering. “The Night Warden said I was not to set foot on Rakka on pain of death for the rest of my natural days.”

“One day we’re going to need to talk more about that.” He studied her critically. “You’ll go ashore disguised as a cabin boy, but you’re not to be left alone.” His glance took in the rest of the Talon. “One of us needs to be with her at all times. We all go ashore; we all return to Sparrowhawk. Got it?”

There were nods and grunts of affirmation all around.

“Right, let’s get this underway, I suppose.”

“Run up the courier sign,” Padraig ordered. Callan leaped to do as ordered, and Kye moved to take his place in the rigging. With Derro gone, there was more than enough work to go around. “Reef sail,” Padraig called. “Let’s cut speed or the harbormaster will have words with us.”

With only a fraction of her canvas aloft, Sparrowhawk slowed to a crawl. “Let’s hope the blasted pilot hurries up,” Mac said. They didn’t have to wait for long. A pilot boat appeared just a few moments later, her lithe lines cutting through the waters of the bay. It came alongside the larger ship, and Hax tossed a rope ladder down. A moment later, a grizzled head appeared, followed by the rest of the man as he clambered aboard.

“Welcome aboard,” Mac said, offering a hand.

The pilot ignored him. After a brief scan of the ship, he approached Padraig. “I’ll take over now.”

As the smaller boat turned away, Padraig stepped back to let the pilot guide them in.

“Give me a touch more canvas,” the man ordered. Kye hesitated only a moment before unfurling a small amount of sail. It boomed in the wind, and Sparrowhawk surged forward.

“She’s lively,” the pilot complimented Padraig.

“That she is. Never sailed better,” the captain replied.

The pilot skillfully maneuvered through the harbor, avoiding other ships and keeping to safe channels, eventually finding her a berth midway along the harbor’s curve. Gorm and Callan made the ship fast and ran out the gangplank. The pilot disembarked without a further word.

Mac raised an eyebrow, and Gorm shrugged. “Better a laconic pilot than one who asks too many questions.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Mac said, relief in his voice. He turned to Kye. “We carry a courier’s pouch, and we fly the colors, but if a pilot were to look too deeply into the documents in the pouch or ask too many questions, well, let’s just say it wouldn’t be good.”

“Has that ever happened?” she asked.

Mac shook his head. “No, thankfully. Pilots are usually more interested in getting you berthed and then getting back out to the next ship. They’re not paid to ask questions.”

“A fact we’re all appropriately grateful for,” Hax broke in. “Now, can we get off the ship? There’s drinking to be done.”

“And maybe some tavern wenches that need tumbling,” Pax added with a cheerful grin.

Mac rolled his eyes. “I don’t suppose I can stop you from drinking, but I’ll say this. Remember that Rakka is Faceless territory. No purse cutting, back-alley shenanigans, or other activities that might get us on their bad side or get Kye noticed.”

“Aw, c’mon, Mac!” Hax objected.

Mac shook his head. “You might be ready to risk your life for a little fun, but I’ve run afoul of the Faceless before. I can promise it’s an experience you’ll count yourself lucky to avoid.”

“You really know how to take the fun out of things,” Pax groused.

“Just trying to keep us all alive a little longer,” Mac fired back before turning to Padraig. “We’ll be at the Sign of the Hawk as usual if you need anything.” He glanced toward Callan. “We’ll need to find a replacement for Derro, and I’ll trust your judgment on the matter. Just be careful.”

Padraig nodded but said nothing. Callan ignored the conversation entirely, busying himself with stowing ropes and making sure the ship was ready for a period of inactivity.

It took the better part of an hour for the Talon to reach the Sign of the Hawk. It was nothing special; built partially from the island’s black stone and weathered wood, its ramshackle bulk took up almost half a city block. Still, the windows weren’t shattered, and someone kept the gutter in front of the large double doors clear of refuse, which was more than many establishments could boast.

Mac led the group up three wide, stone steps to a portico. The heavy double doors squeaked as he pushed through. Inside, candles and lamps burned here and there to augment the light that filtered in through the windows. Mac hesitated for a moment, looking around as his eyes adjusted. The bar was across the room, and a swinging door behind it led ostensibly to the kitchens and other areas where guests were not meant to go. Two sets of stairs, one on either end of the room, led upwards to the guest quarters.

Just then came a tremendous crash of breaking crockery. The Talon all whirled toward the sound, several putting their hands to weapons just in case. Then the swinging doors behind the bar exploded, revealing a short, heavy-set woman with gray-streaked red hair.

“Mac? Macland Toth?” she all but shouted.

Mac gave a warm smile and half-raised his hand, but by that time the newcomer was already pulling him into a bone-crushing embrace. “It is you! By the old gods, it’s good to see you, boy.” She released Mac and stared up at him, a critical expression on her face.

“Hello, Taina,” Mac replied. He would have said more, but Taina was already rushing off on another tangent.

“You’re looking too thin, Macland,” she said, before casting a dark look Gorm’s way. “Why haven’t you been making sure he eats?” Gorm opened his mouth to reply, but she had already moved on. Taina grabbed Mac’s arm and began dragging him toward the bar, an inexhaustible stream of conversation flowing the entire time. “You’ve not been to the Hawk in years! Not since…what, that business with the Sütian ambassador?”

“It’s been too long, Taina, but if we could….”

“Why’ve you left your old friends alone for so long? Not so much as a word out of ya, neither. Still, it’s good that you’ve come. Lots of things afoot here. Always are in Rakka.” The last words were said as she all but shoved Mac through the swinging doors behind the bar and into the kitchen. The rest of the Talon stayed in the inn’s common room, all half-smiles and raised eyebrows.

“Well, that was interesting,” Kye observed. “Why’s she in such a hurry?”

“Taina’s almost a force of nature,” Gorm said with a chuckle. “Mac will eventually emerge, once she’s shoved as much food as she can down his gullet. Might take a bit, though. It has been years since we were here, and no doubt she wants to give him an earful.”

“They related?” Hax wanted to know.

Gorm laughed. “No, but you’d never know it by how she acts. Taina took our Mac under her wing not long after he and I left Iron John’s service. She’d lost her son the year before when his ship sank, and Mac, well, you know about that. Seemed like a kindness to let each find something of what they needed in the other.”

He glanced around the common room. Patrons were scattered here and there, relatively few, although it was early in the day yet. One man stood up from his table and sauntered toward the entrance. The other patrons present had gone back to their drinks and conversations, ignoring the newcomers.

“Watch where you’re going,” Pax growled, startling the others. The man leaving the inn had shouldered her out of the way.

“So sorry,” he said, an unctuous smile on his slim, bearded face. “I didn’t see you there.” As Pax’s hands went to her hatchets, he raised both hands, palms out. “Apologies, apologies!”

“Get out of here before I decide to teach you better manners,” Pax said. The man wasted no time and scampered out the door and into the street.

“C’mon,” Gorm said, gesturing for the others to follow. He led the way to a back corner, where two tables stood empty. They took their seats, and eventually a barmaid appeared to take their order.

“Ale,” Hax ordered.

“Make that two,” Pax said, her glance lingering on the barmaid, who gave her a shy smile in return.

“Wine,” Wynne said. “Red if you’ve got it.” She glanced toward the kitchen, but there was no sign of Mac. “And leave the bottle, won’t you?”

“Ale,” Kye ordered, or at least tried.

“Oh no, you don’t,” Gorm said, then laughed at Kye’s pout. “She’ll have water. Same for me.”

“Two ales, two mugs of water, and a bottle of red,” the barmaid said. “Be right back.” With a glance back at Pax, she headed for the bar.

“Not in this place more than a quarter-hour and you’re already making eyes at someone,” Hax grumbled.

Pax punched him in the shoulder, hard enough for the big man to wince. “You’re just jealous that she wasn’t paying any attention to you.”

“Damn right,” he muttered. Pax’s laughter redoubled.

Gorm rolled his eyes. “You two remember that we need to keep a low profile.”

“Mac didn’t say nothing about ale and a little friendly company,” Hax protested.

“No, he didn’t,” Gorm agreed, holding the other man’s gaze. “But if any of your antics draw unwanted attention, I’ll take it personal-like.” Gorm’s stare was pointed.

“No need to get your small clothes in a bunch. I hear you,” Hax said, pushing away from the table and leaning back in his chair.

The barmaid chose that moment to reappear, their drinks balanced on a bar tray. She deftly handed out drinks, leaving Pax for last.

“I hope you enjoy,” she said, setting a frothy mug of ale in front of the other woman. Her fingers trailed across the back of Pax’s hand, and a small smile graced her mouth.

“I intend to,” Pax replied, her direct gaze leaving no doubt in anyone’s mind about what she intended to enjoy. Color flared in the barmaid’s cheeks, and her smile widened before she left to serve other patrons.

“Just rub it in my face, why don’t ya?” Hax grumbled before drowning his sorrows by downing almost half his ale in one go. He set the mug down and stared desultorily around the inn. It was another half hour before Mac finally emerged from the kitchens, and by that point, even Wynne’s usually sunny disposition had soured with Hax’s continued pouting.

Mac pushed open the kitchen doors and glanced around briefly before spotting the Talon at their table. With a sheepish smile, he walked over and pulled out a chair. “My apologies. Taina’s kind of unavoidable.” He put his elbows on the table and leaned in. “But we got some important information out of it, so let’s count it as a win.”

“What did you find out?” Wynne wanted to know.

“Quite a lot. But we need to be somewhere more private before we discuss it. Let’s just say that the winds might be shifting out of Thynne’s favor.”

“That sounds promising,” Hax said.

“It does, at that. Now, let’s get some food for the rest of you. Taina’s already stuffed me to the gills. And I’d love something to drink!” He raised his hand and flagged down the barmaid, who appeared and stood at Pax’s shoulder.

“Taina said to let you know when we’re ready to eat,” Mac said. “And a pint for me.”

“And me?” Kye asked, glancing sidelong at Gorm.

Mac caught the look and smiled, raising an eyebrow at Gorm. “Sure, why not?” He turned back to the barmaid. “And a pint for her, too.”

“Won’t be but a moment,” she said, promptly disappearing. She reappeared with two foaming tankards. Behind her came two serving lads, both tottering under the weight of trays that groaned under their burdens. They brought soup, fresh bread, cheese, and platters of meat. Hax’s eyes lit up.

“Now this is more like it!” he crowed, grabbing a thick slice of bread and dipping it in a bowl of herbed oil. He grabbed a plate and heaped it with roast meat and grilled vegetables, a happy smile on his face.

Pax patted him on the back. “That’s my brother. Food or sex, either is acceptable.”

Hax shrugged. “Sounds like wisdom to me!”

Gorm shook his head. “Sensual thinking only leads to disappointment, in the end, Hax.”

“I suppose you’re above all that? Ain’t that what the Clans are all about, lording it over those who think differently?” Hax replied, pausing to cram a slice of bread into his mouth, chewing loudly.

Gorm sighed, forking vegetables and bread onto his plate. “Those on the Path are no better or worse than anyone else. We’re just aware of certain things. I’d hoped a little instruction would be helpful to you.”

“Right, and that awareness, it lets you point out our faults?” Hax asked around a mouthful of meat.

Gorm opened his mouth to reply, but Mac forestalled him. “Let it be, Gorm. The Path is all well and good, and I’ll concede that I’ve found a lot of value in its teachings during our friendship, but you ain’t going to convince Hax here to change his ways so easily.”

“Or at all,” Hax mumbled, chewing his food.

Conversation faded as the Talon fell to, enjoying the first meal of something other than ship’s rations in a very long time. The combination of ale, food, and laughter eventually brought smiles to everyone’s faces. They remained at the table for most of the evening, polishing off the last of the repast and washing it down with wine, ale, or, in Gorm’s case, water. The moon had long since risen before they made their way upstairs to the rooms Taina had set aside for them. There were two, one for Mac, Gorm, and Hax, and another for Wynne, Pax, and Kye.

Of course, the entire group ended up in Mac’s room, piled on the beds and crammed into corners, eager to hear whatever Taina had shared with him. All except for Pax.

“Don’t wait up,” she said, a wicked smile on her face as she sauntered back down the stairs.

“She has all the gods-cursed luck,” Hax grumbled.

“If she’d rather cozy up than get the lay of the land, that’s on her. I suppose you can always catch her up in the morning,” Mac added.

Hax chortled.

“I say something funny?” Mac asked, glancing from the laughing fighter to Gorm.

Gorm rolled his eyes. “I believe there’s some sexual innuendo in there.”

“Lay!” Hax burst out.

“What are you, twelve?” Wynne asked, obviously not seeing the humor. Kye, on the other hand, was laughing quietly.

“See?” Hax asked, gesturing at the girl. “She gets it! You’re alright in my book, kid.”

“Fine, maybe there’s some juvenile humor there. Can we get back to the topic at hand now?” Mac asked.

“Sure,” Hax said, legs stretched out across one of the beds.

“Well, I appreciate your permission,” Mac said, lips twisted sourly. “What I learned was this: Thynne’s not running the show out around Praxxis. He and the emperor had something of a falling out a while back, and Lord Gregory took all his toys and went home.”

“Wait,” Gorm said, sitting suddenly straighter. He accidentally jostled Wynne, who was sitting on the bed beside him. “Thynne’s not involved in that mess?”

Mac shook his head. “Not to hear Taina tell it.”

“Then who’s out there? Who’s Holua working with if it’s not Thynne?”

“I’d give a great deal to know that myself,” Mac answered. “Whoever it is, they’ve got a lot of pull with the emperor and no shortage of forces. Taina said she’s heard tell of mercenaries and pirates alike signing up.”

“That seems unlikely,” Hax scoffed. “When’d you see pirates do anything with anyone who wasn’t another pirate? And even then, they only work together with one eye on the other.”

“Something’s fishy, for sure,” Mac replied. “Taina didn’t have much more to say on that matter.”

“You think Molly might know more?” Gorm asked.

“Aye, I do. If anyone does, Molly’s sure to have at least some hint of what’s brewing between here and Süt.” Mac took the moment to stretch out on his bed, working the kinks out of his back. “I’ll say this, though. Whatever it is, it’s not like to be good for us.”

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