Terry Brooks - Antrax

“Someone should have listened to you. So now you listen to me. The Jerle Shannara ’s mine again, Big Red’s and mine. But we lost Hawk, and I’m looking to pay someone back for that. Is she here?”

He blinked. “The witch? She’s ashore, looking for the Druid.” The washed-out blue eyes, so familiar, gave her a considering look. “Stay away from her, Little Red. She’s poison.”

Rue Meridian gave his throat a nudge with the dagger’s tip, and he grunted. “She hasn’t discovered what real poison is yet. Who else is here? Does Aden Kett command?”

Donell Brae nodded.

“Stupid choice for both of you.”

“Not always a matter of choice, Little Red.”

“Fair enough. But you have one now. Do what I tell you, and you can stay alive.” She nudged him again with the dagger, forcing his head all the way back. “I always liked you, Donell. I wouldn’t want our friendship to end badly.”

He swallowed against the dagger tip. “What do you want?”

“Who’s aboard besides you?”

“If you don’t move that dagger away, I’ll cut my own throat trying to answer.”

She moved the blade down to his sternum. “Keep your hands at your sides. Any weapons on you?”

He lowered his head again and shook it. “Never liked them much. I’m a pilot, not a bladesman. That’s for others.”

One of the best Federation pilots she had met. They’d flown missions together over the Prekkendorran. He had come into the service with Aden Kett, a couple of young Federation soldiers when they had started out. Now he was a pilot and Kett an airship Commander. Their crew had been assigned to Flying Mourn when Rue Meridian fled west to the coast with her brother. The Federation Command must have given them Black Moclips as a reward for their service. It was a good choice. Aden Kett’s crew was the best Federation outfit in the skies.

She walked Donell Brae over to the mast, where Hunter Predd waited. The Wing Rider had come down from his mast perch to find better concealment and to watch her back. The sentries at either end of the airship took no visible notice as she marched Donell up to him.

“Again, now—who’s aboard?” she pressed the pilot softly.

He looked straight ahead. “The Commander, me, and eleven crew. Thirteen altogether. We started at fifteen, but two were left on the Jerle Shannara to man her. Dead, I suppose?”

She ignored him. “No Mwellrets lurking about?”

He shook his head. “All ashore, chasing that boy and whoever freed him.”

A chill ran through her. She glanced at the dark form of Hunter Predd, who was close enough to hear. “Let’s have a word with Aden Kett, Donell. Same rules until we’re finished. Behave yourself and don’t test me.”

The seamed face glanced over. “I’m no fool, Little Red. I’ve seen you with those knives.”

“Good. Hold on to that image. Now, where’s the Commander?”

They went down the stairway that led through the rear decking to the lower passageways and holds. The Commander’s chamber was aft, situated on the vessel’s port side in the shelter of the pontoons. They moved silently down the short passageway to the cabin door and stopped. She nodded for Donell to speak.

“Commander?” he called through the door.

“Come,” was the immediate response.

The pilot released the latch, and they moved inside in a rush. She kicked the door shut behind her, one hand on Donell Brae’s arm, the other holding the dagger flat against her palm and low and tight against her side in a throwing position.

A pair of candles lit the darkness. Aden Kett was alone, propped up in his berth, writing in a journal, a cluster of maps spread out before him. When he glanced up, she saw his strong, handsome face was bruised and his head swathed in bandages. He seemed unsurprised to see her.

He put down the quill and ink and pushed the maps away. “Little Red.” He looked at Donell Brae. “Things go from bad to worse for us these days, don’t they?”

“Trying to decide exactly where in the scheme of things you are?” she asked, indicating the maps.

He shook his head. “Trying to plot a course home, one I hope to put to use very soon.” He shrugged. “I can dream.”

“Can I trust you not to call out for help while we talk?” she asked, balancing the dagger where he could see it.

He nodded wearily. “Who would I call out for? Why would I bother? The rets and the witch are ashore, and my crew and I are left in the dark once more. We’re all of us sick of this business.”

“Not going well, is it?” She moved Donell forward, still keeping her free hand on his arm and the door at her back where she could get to it if she must. “You must long for the old days, bad as they were.”

He smiled, a bit of life returning to his battered features. “Things were less complicated.”

“For you, anyway. What happened to your face?”

“Someone got aboard and rescued the boy we were holding. They broke into my cabin. I came out of my berth just in time to get knocked back into it. Your don’t look so good yourself.”

She returned his smile. “I’m healing. Slow and steady. But don’t mistake that for a weakness you can take advantage of, Aden. You’re no better with blades than Donell.” She let the warning sink in. “Tell me about this boy.”

Aden Kett shrugged. “I don’t know anything about him. He was a boy. The Ilse Witch brought him here and told us to keep him locked away until she came back for him. The rets were given responsibility for that, so it’s their problem that he got away.”

“Describe him. Smallish? Dark hair? Unusual blue eyes? Not an Elf, is he? Did you get a name?”

The other shook his head. “He doesn’t talk. Can’t, I gather. But that’s him, the way you describe. Who is he?”

She didn’t answer. It must be Bek. But why couldn’t he speak? And who had managed to get aboard before her and spirit him away?

“No other prisoners?”

“None that I know of. Or care about.” The Federation Commander pushed the maps off his lap and swung his legs over the side of the berth, making sure he did nothing to startle her. Then he stood and stretched his back and arms, taking his time. “No sleep for me this night, I can see. What do you want, Little Red?”

She decided to take a chance. “Your ship. On loan.”

He straightened his tall frame, gingerly smoothed back his dark hair, and folded his arms across his chest. He gave her a considering look. “On loan?”

“We took back the Jerle Shannara, Aden. Big Red and me. But we lost Hawk in the process, and someone is going to pay for that. I already told this to Donell. The witch marooned us. Now I intend to do the same to her. If I could, I would kill her. But leaving her trapped here with her rets works just as well.”

He nodded slowly. “You want me to help you?”

“I want you to stay out of the way.” She paused, reconsidering. “All right. I want you to help me. It might not be a bad idea, given what this voyage is likely to end up costing you otherwise. But even if you don’t, I want your word that you will stay out from underfoot. I already have control of Black Moclips anyway.”

Aden Kett glanced at Donell Brae, who shrugged. “I only saw one other man.”

She laughed. “You don’t think I came aboard with just one man, do you? That would be madness!”

“The kind of madness you prefer,” Kett suggested. “There’s not much you wouldn’t risk, Little Red.” He gave her an appraising look, and she held his gaze. “Anyway,” he said, “I’m not going to turn Black Moclips over to you just because you ask.”

“It’s only on loan,” she reminded him. “I’m borrowing her just long enough to find my friends and get us to the coast. Then you can have your ship back, and no one will be the worse for it.”