Lindsay Buroker: Enigma

“Oh, good. I can just stand back and watch as you’re beaten, chained, and thrown into their dank, windowless brig.”

“You could always come along.” Rias smiled and offered his arm. “Dank windowless brigs are always more amenable with company.”

She snorted and leaned against him, though his joke did little to lift her spirits. She scowled at the back of the captain’s head. How depressing to think that they might have survived assassins, deadly technology, and monster-filled tunnels, only to be defeated by human greed.

Afternoon brought the first warning shot, a cannonball splashing into the water off the port bow. Towering granite cliffs rose to the east, the topography Rias had described, with no sign of a river-or any coves to hide in-within sight. Deep blue water promised plenty of depth for the Nurian warships to navigate through.

On the schooner, the captain paced back and forth, masticating his tobacco like an apothecary grinding a nettlesome root in a mortar. The mate was barking orders to his modest gun crew-the schooner claimed four cannons. Given the hundreds the other ships carried-which were clearly visible now that the Nurians had drawn closer-Tikaya thought the captain was addled for even contemplating a fight. If it was inevitable that the Nurians would overtake the Fin , better to let them board and take the stolen flute rather than risk irking them further.

So long as they didn’t find Rias.

The waiting and worrying was enough to make Tikaya crazy. Part of her wanted to run down to the bilge pump and plan a mutiny with him, if only on the chance that having him in charge would make a difference, but she was the one who’d told him- implored him-to hide out down there.

“We just have to hold them for a while,” the captain told the mate. “We’ll reach Port Malevek by dusk.”

By dusk was three hours away. Those ships were in firing range now. Another cannon boomed, and the ball splashed into the water a few meters behind the schooner. The next one might very well crash into the ship.

“Need another idea,” Tikaya muttered. “Something better.” She still had the flute, but she doubted the Nurians would hear her over the sea and cannons even if she knew what tune to play. Garchee stood by the railing, watching the approaching ships with that same resignation on his face from earlier.

She jogged over to him. “Any chance you know a tune that would convince those captains to turn around and go home?”

He smiled sadly. “The flutes aren’t that powerful. Especially that one. It was made by a novice.”

One of the galleons was inching closer, trying to come alongside the schooner. A forward cannon fired, and Tikaya’s heart nearly stopped. The black ball arced straight toward them.

She grabbed Garchee and pulled him to the deck. The cannonball smashed into the hull of the ship not three feet below them. Wood shattered, hurling planks and splinters into the air. The deck trembled as the cannonball ripped through the ship’s innards. She didn’t know if it crashed all the way through to the other side or lodged somewhere in the middle.

Tikaya sat up, concern for Rias rearing in her mind. He was belowdecks. What if-

As if her thoughts had conjured him, Rias burst up the stairs and onto the deck, his eyes round with surprise. “They’re firing at the ship?”

“That surprises you?” Tikaya asked.

Rias’s gaze latched onto Garchee, who, still on his knees, was also blinking in surprise. “Yes.”

“I thought they’d surround us and board us,” Garchee said to himself in Nurian. “Maybe they don’t know…”

“They shouldn’t be trying to hit us unless they don’t know that more than an artifact is on board.” Rias extended a hand toward Garchee. “Come.”

He helped the boy to his feet, then pointed toward the closest mast. Not sure what he had in mind, Tikaya followed them.

“Up,” Rias pointed toward the yards.

Garchee nodded once and climbed. Rias headed up after him.

“What are you doing?” Tikaya asked. The firing of a cannon-one from their own ship-drowned out her words. “Rias, they’ll see you,” she called. “They’ll recognize you.”

“I know,” Rias said grimly. “But they need to see… their thief.” He looked up to where Garchee had reached the lower yard and crawled out onto it. The boy’s face was bleak but accepting.

“Rias, you can’t…” Tikaya didn’t know what to say. Did he truly mean to risk himself and to offer up the poor boy as sacrifice to save the mangy crew of this schooner? She couldn’t believe that of him. He had to be up to something else.

Before crawling out onto the yard himself, Rias looked down and met Tikaya’s gaze. Trust me, his eyes seemed to say.

“What are those idiots doing up there?” the captain bellowed.

He didn’t have time to follow up on the question. The two galleons were gliding closer, hemming in the smaller ship while the frigate closed from behind.

On the yard, Rias and Garchee stood. The boy inched out to the end and lifted an arm toward the frigate.

The galleons drew even with the schooner. The Nurians were close enough that Tikaya could hear their orders, shouts to disable the enemy ship in preparation for boarding. Then a panicked shout erupted from a man in the frigate’s crow’s nest. That ship was too far back for Tikaya to make out the words, but more shouts arose on the deck. She thought she heard a “cease fire” order.

“Grappling hooks,” someone bellowed from the nearest galleon.

A Nurian sailor lifted a megaphone and called in accented Turgonian, “Unnamed vessel, prepare to be boarded.”

Down on the deck, the captain seethed, fists clenched. The mate asked him something and pointed to the cannons. The captain spat, then shook his head.

“It’s over.”

Garchee was picking his way back toward the mast. Rias waited, perhaps ready in case the less-than-agile youth slipped again. Noble, but Tikaya wished to Akahe that he’d get down from there and hide somewhere before the Nurians boarded.

As the two were climbing back to the deck, another shout went up from a crow’s nest, this time on the closest ship. The words sent a swarm of dread into Tikaya’s gut.

“Tell the captain I think that’s Admiral Starcrest over there.”

Tikaya rubbed her face. “Oh, Rias,” she said as he hopped down beside her. “Why couldn’t you have stayed out of sight?”

“I never was good at hiding from trouble,” Rias said, reaching out a hand to steady Garchee when he jumped the last few feet to land beside them.

“Drop all weapons,” the Nurian with the megaphone commanded.

A squad of bowmen stood along the railing of each galleon, covering their comrades as they boarded.

Tikaya checked the waters in every direction, hoping a Turgonian fleet would appear on the horizon. “It’s really quite lackadaisical of your people to leave this stretch of their coast unguarded,” she told Rias. “These Nurians are close enough to Port Malevek to see what people are growing in their gardens.”

“Should I ever regain my warrior-caste status, I’ll be certain to write a strongly worded letter to the local base commander.”

A short, squat Nurian in a flowing, vibrant crimson and yellow uniform strode toward Rias and Garchee. Strands of gray wound through his black hair, which was swept into a thick topknot in the center of his head. Gold disks sewn into his collar proclaimed him a senior sergeant. The rest of his men fanned out, half of them covering their leader while the others aimed bows or swords at the crew, ensuring everyone had indeed dropped their weapons. Many of those bows were pointed at Rias.