Authors Note: Ahhhh this chapter has taken me FOREVER to finish. I had the first draft on my computer and proceeded to dump water on it frying my new computer and losing the entire thing T_T. Fortunately I was able to get it fixed (and use my old one in the mean time). Thank you for all of the reviews! They gave me a lot of motivation to get this chapter finished. I hope you all enjoy it!
The heavy downpour had finally subsided into a light drizzle as bits of watery light began to slip through the sodden canopy of the thinning wood. Gandriel still led the plodding bay gelding down the slippery path, his legs coated in dense mud as the exhausted group moved through the hazy morning.
"We're almost there," he called over a shoulder, no longer even attempting to shake the water out of the drenched hair clinging to his face. The blonde nodded her head dismally, pulling the shivering children seated in front of her closer, wrapping the soaked cloak about them tighter in a vain attempt to stave off some of the cold.
They'd been on the road for the entirety of the night and the chill had seeped so deeply into Anelisse she could no longer feel her bare legs pressed against the leather of the saddle and her breath billowed in the icy air before her.
She knew the children weren't faring any better.
Marrien's shoulders shook with violent shivers as the child scooted further back into her, seeking warmth.
"Just a little while longer," Anelisse soothed, running her hands up and down the child's arms to try and generate heat. Her skin was like ice.
Just a little while longer, she repeated to herself internally, forcing herself not to glance back through the forest for the hundredth time to ensure they hadn't been followed. That the slavers hadn't called their bluff and pursued them through the rain-drenched night.
She caved and glanced over her shoulder to see the path behind them was indeed still empty and silent, save for the steady dripping of water. She let a small breath of relief escape her lips.
Pushing her soaked locks back, Anelisse turned her face skywards, closing her eyes for a moment as another worry bloomed in her stomach. Leaving her sister had left her nauseous, and it had taken every ounce of control she could muster to not rush back towards her.
She could only hope that the Mother watched over her and that Celeste, strong-willed and clever as she was, could find a way out of slavers' clutches and somehow free the remaining citizens of Vanica in the process.
"Anelisse," Marrien murmured sleepily as she pressed her sopping head back against the girl's shoulder, "do you think Celeste will get Mommy and the others free?"
"If anyone can do it, it's Celeste," Anelisse replied with an encouraging squeeze, turning her attention towards the light seeping in from what appeared to be the exit of the wood. Gandriel's pace increased, tugging the less than pleased gelding along.
As they finally stepped beyond the trees onto the faint trail that wound down to the craggy beach, Anelisse was met with a wide view of the open ocean. To her right, wisps of clouds curled beautifully against the still dark sky as the first tentative beams of sunlight at last peeked over the treetops behind her, burning away the last of the rain.
There, docked near the jagged coastline sat a magnificent ship, its hull embellished with swirling engravings, the name Siren gleaming in bold script along the side. Anelisse could just make out a flurry of movement aboard the ship, people running to and fro-
Shouting echoed out from the ship and Gandriel raised a hand before calling a reply to the scrambling crew. The cliffs reflected a faint splashing noise as an anchor was cast over the side.
Anelisse tried not to slump in relief, even as the worry of her sister's willing capture still danced through her mind.
Rufus's body went limp and still atop Celeste, the light draining from his eyes as death rushed in to claim him. He collapsed abruptly into a flabby lump atop her, the sudden bulk of his body forcing the air from her lungs.
She let out an annoyed wheeze as she felt the remaining hardness of him pressed flush against her waist, the wetness of bodily fluids beginning to leak out.
Disgusting, foul, vile man.
With a grimace, Celeste worked her legs up between her and Rufus's corpse before she tucked her knees in close and deftly kicked him up and off her. His body tumbled off the bed, landing on the plush carpet with a resounding thump. She sat up to catch her breath, and made a face as she caught sight of his pants still sitting just beneath his exposed rear.
Hissing in annoyance, she quickly swiped at her stomach with the down comforter, muttering curses.
Easing herself to her feet, she tilted her head towards the doorway at the far end of the cabin, listening for the tell-tale sounds that anyone had realized something was amiss. With bated breath she waited, counted.
Only the whisper of waves against the hull, and muffled cries of deckhands.
A sigh of relief escaped her lips. She slipped from the bed and quietly crept across the expanse of the cabin, artfully side stepping the carcass of the Captain as she made her way to the large oak desk, where Naita's whip was so carefully coiled.
Keeping one eye on the door, Celeste let out an appreciative hum as she glanced the weapon over. The leather pommel glistened in the candlelight of the cabin, the whorls and designs carefully etched. It was finely crafted and clearly hand tooled - something that no novice would carry.
Setting the whip aside, she began rummaging through the desk's contents, rifling through parchments and paperweights, scanning each page as she went. She paused as her eyes snagged on a leaf of papers with the phrase "lesser-fae female" hastily scribbled across it.
She pulled the document close and flipped through it, a smile beginning to tug at her lips as she read the contents. It was the report on Naita, on the specifics of her capture and how many men she had managed to kill when they'd cornered her.
Twenty-four. Celeste grinned wickedly. No wonder they'd had the female so heavily guarded, it had taken Dermot and a few of his closest associates to down her, with three well-placed ash arrows to boot.
And she'd still managed to rip out the throat of one of the men even after he'd cuffed her in faebane.
It seemed the naagalata's woman's words to her earlier held true: an assassin indeed.
Celeste found that she wasn't the least bit surprised by the efficiency with which Naita had fended off the slavers. Her mind turned to the use of the ash arrows, frowning as she absently rubbed at her wrists.
Flipping through the rest of the pages, she found numerous letters of correspondence between members of the slaving ring: names, dates and shipment locations, all penned in elegant, elaborate script. Celeste knew exactly who would want that information.
Quickly, she rolled up the collection of papers and shoved them along with the whip into a fine leather satchel she swiped up from Rufus's chair.
He no longer had a use for it.
Stepping back towards the Captain, Celeste knelt by beside the corpse, grimacing as she gingerly began to fish through his pockets.
She quickly procured the key to the faebane chains he had slipped away after releasing her earlier. She could only hope the key would fit the lock to Naita's chains as well. Pocketing it, Celeste crept toward the door, listening to the deckhands milling about outside.
It seemed no one was aware of the events that had just transpired and were likely blissfully aware of the current state of their Captain.
Glancing down at herself, Celeste suddenly became aware of her attire, or rather the lack thereof. Mouthing a silent curse, she slipped across the room and began rummaging through the various trunks and chests stacked throughout the room.
After digging through several and finding only the remains of tattered, well-worn dresses, presumably from the Captain's prior endeavors with the 'fairer sex', Celeste came across a lovely wooden chest that contained her belongs, the ridiculous sheer pink underthings Gandriel had so thoughtfully bought her placed carefully on top.
She had never thought she would be thankful to see such scant underthings again. Making quick work of dressing, she yanked off the fragile bits of lace she was currently wearing and tossed them aside before pulling on her own sturdy clothes.
She was tugging at her boots when a tentative tapping sounded at the door. She froze.
"My lord?"
Hadn't Rufus sent the servants away?
Silence engulfed the room for several long moments as Celeste willed her mind to calm, frantically seeking an escape route. Finding none, instinct told hold and she let out the most ludicrous moan she could manage.
The voice gave a soft "Oh!" before muttering about returning later, the sound of soft shoes shuffling across the floor fading as they strode quickly away.
She felt herself deflate against the wall, releasing her breath in a long slow stream. Close, that had been too close.
Rising, she abruptly realized she would not be able to use the main door as an exit, as it led directly onto the deck. The shouts of sailors still navigating out to open sea and the creak of ropes echoed clearly through the thick wood of the door.
She briefly considered smashing the large bay windows in the room but decided it against when she thought on the commotion that was bound to make. Hissing to herself, Celeste slipped out of the main room and into the tiny adjacent powder room where the maid had undone her gown. She knelt next to it, unable to suppress a wry smile as the garment's resemblance to a deflated souffle struck her.
Fishing around in the seemingly endless layers of tulle, Celeste unearthed the knife she had swiped and quickly pocketed it, knowing that any weapon, even a dinner knife, was better than none.
She stood and turned to the wooden vanity tucked against the wall, haphazardly yanking open drawers and rifling through them. She came up empty-handed, with no more than thin scraps of ribbon and a variety of gaudy cosmetics and powders that nearly had her sneezing.
Nothing, she had found nothing.
Don't panic, she reminded herself, trying to soothe the rising sense of dread that was beginning to surround her, Panic will do you no good.
Glancing around the room, Celeste clicked her tongue as she evaluated any possible escape route. Her eyes lingered on the one small port window in the wall above her head, a thin sliver of moon barely visible through the wispy clouds obscuring the night sky.
She glanced back through the door towards the ridiculous bed with all its draperies and sashes and then down towards the discarded gown and its ridiculous ruffles, quirking her head as an idea began to form.
Fallon let out a growl that had the hair on Gandriel's arms raising as the captain stomped past him and up onto the deck of the Siren, her auburn hair flaming as the first true light of morning slipped through the clouds.
"Absolute foolishness from all of you," she snapped, crossing her arms over her chest as she turned and leaned against the railing of the ship. "It's a miracle none of you are dead. You must have encountered some ripe idiots for such a half-assed plan to have been successful."
Gandriel tried to hide the flinch as the fuming female held his gaze, her sharp hazel eyes boring into him. He swore Vaerek sent him a sympathetic look from his position next to his captain.
"It was the only way we could free Anelisse without having to fight our way out," Gandriel reminded, crossing his arms as well and raising his chin defiantly. "And I refuse to let two children be sold like . . . pets." Fallon scowled at him for a moment more, then sighed and rubbed at her head in resignation.
"Still doesn't mean it was a good idea, she's liable to get herself killed."
Vaerek gave a pointed cough that had Fallon's head snapping upwards, scowl returning as she raised an eyebrow at first mate. Gandriel was glad to not be on the receiving end of that look.
The human remained unfazed.
"You've no room to talk," he reminded, running a hand across his stubbled chin with a shrug. "This plan holds more water than the majority of ones you've executed in the past year. If she can infiltrate any of the trade ships and get information it could be a turning point in all of this."
"That's neither here nor there," Fallon quipped back, narrowing her eyes at him, "it was my life on the line then, not someone else's. And need I remind you, I've come out of all of my schemes with my hide more than intact."
Vaerek only gave Fallon a knowing look that elicited a long sigh from the woman as she finally dropped her glare. Instead she settled for plucking her large hat from her head and shaking it sharply, sending droplets of water shimmering into the sunlight.
"So, what now?" Gandriel inquired, flicking his gaze over his shoulder towards a soaked Anelisse toweling off in a corner of the deck, accompanied by a flustered Koda standing by with many more linens than could ever possibly be needed to dry such a petite girl. Marrien and James had been shuffled below deck for hot baths and warm food by a sweet-faced human woman.
"We set sail, we can't wait here any longer," Fallon replied matter-of-factly, turning her sharp gaze toward the ocean. "We've thoroughly scouted the coast already and we'll compromise ourselves if we remain any longer. Without that rain to cover us we're likely to be spotted. We can't afford to have them completely change the trade routes."
"Absolutely not," Anelisse's sweet voice interjected as she pushed the towel she'd been drying her hair with off onto Koda as she made her way up onto the deck, having clearly been eavesdropping on the conversation, "I absolutely refuse to leave my sister, we can't just abandon her-"
"Celeste made her choice," Fallon replied coolly, watching Anelisse with knowing eyes, "and now she will have to follow through on that choice. The only thing we can do now is wait and watch, and provide support when and if we can."
Anelisse's lip puckered in a way that Gandriel had already learned meant trouble, before she turned her face to the side and let out a frustrated growl.
"You would not be so complacent if it were you sister trapped with those rapists and murderers." The girl spoke quietly but not weakly, and Gandriel's instincts flared at the tone of those words.
"Wrong," Fallon replied, casually leaning further back against the railing and shaking out her damp hair. Anelisse snapped her head up and gave a surprisingly fae-like snarl.
The captain only offered a small smile in response. "If I had a sister like that who was willing to risk everything to save innocent people I'd let her give it her best shot." Fallon pushed off the railing and walked lazily towards Anelisse before stopping before her, her hands planted on her hips. "She made a choice to try and save those people and if Celeste is anything like I suspect, she'll be downright furious if we compromise that. Am I wrong?"
Anelisse shook her head, her cheeks puffing out in irritation.
"I didn't think so. Besides," Fallon clapped a hand on the girl's slim shoulder with a grin. "We've finally got a person on the inside and with any luck she'll be able to gather the information we've been unable to obtain. Regardless of how poorly conceived your plan was, thanks to the three of you, we may finally get the upper hand on these bastards." Anelisse's shoulders slumped as she let out a breath, finally giving the captain a weak smile as she nodded.
Fallon stepped back and looked out across the sea, her eyes bright. "Vaerek, get the men moving, I want us out of the harbor in the next half hour before the sun's fully risen." She turned toward Anelisse and Gandriel. "And I want you two to follow me, I've a letter I need to draft."
Bracing her feet against the hull of the ship, Celeste firmly gripped the makeshift rope she had fashioned from her gown and the many draperies and sheets Rufus had found it necessary to wrap his bed in. Letting out a slow breath and trying not to glance down at the waves crashing beneath her, she adjusted her grip and took another step down.
The leather satchel she had stolen swung to and fro as she lowered herself from the port window she had easily and silently shattered, the end of her rope secured by the heavy wooden vanity in the powder room.
Carefully she inched her way down the side of the ship, seeking purchase against the hull's slippery side, salty mist stinging her eyes.
Nice and easy, she reminded herself as she shuffled her feet downwards little by little, Just don't slip.
After several achingly long moments she caught sight of a porthole of a window beneath her. She eased herself down to carefully perch herself on the window's narrow frame, her slick boots nearly sliding out from beneath her. Tentatively she tapped the window with her boot, testing its thickness.
It'd have to do.
Bracing her feet, she wrapped the excess rope hanging beneath her around her waist tightly, before taking a deep breath and sharply pushing away from the side of the ship. As she swung back, she snapped her feet together and shielded her face as her boots easily shattered the fragile glass, her momentum sending her narrow frame flying through the window into the corridor.
Celeste hit the floor with a thud, hissing as broken glass crunched beneath her. She rolled to her feet, shaking the shards off of her and pausing as she listened.
Miraculously the hallway she'd landed in appeared empty, and it seemed no one had heard the smashing of the glass.
She plucked the dinner knife from the bag and began creeping down the corridor, still listening. She rounded two corners before the clinking of mail shifting against cloth met her ears.
Tentatively sniffing, she caught the scent of mortal blood and the crisp, repulsive hint of ash.
She was close to the guards that were watching Naita.
Celeste tightened her hold on the knife and crept toward them, willing cool calm to hold her. She'd have to move quickly and silently.
The guards had no time to react as she slipped from behind the corner and drove the blade into the first man's throat before twisting and throwing herself into the other guard, her hands shooting for his neck.
He didn't have a chance to move before she crushed his trachea, a weak dying wheeze escaping his throat. Celeste rose on shaking knees and turned to face Naita who had watched the scuffle with gleaming eyes.
"Took you long enough, layl."
Celeste snorted before she quickly strode into the room, quietly shutting the door behind her, hiding the guards' bodies should anyone walk past. She pulled out the leather-pommeled whip from her bag and tossed it towards Naita. The female caught the weapon with ease even with her shackled hands, a delighted grin gracing her scaled lips.
"I was a bit preoccupied with my dinner date." Celeste pulled the faebane key free, supplying a wicked grin in response to Naita's. "Read what you did to those men who took you too." She shoved the key into the lock and, with a click, the shackles slid to the floor. She quickly kicked the cursed things to the side, not wanting to touch them more than necessary. "Think you can do that again?"
"It would be my pleasure," Naita said with an airy chuckle as she quickly rose to her full height, a few inches taller than Celeste, her shoulders broader and stronger. "I will not be so careless this time. Shall we?"
The Naagalata female motioned towards the door. Celeste shook her head.
"I'm going to release the prisoners below deck," she responded, her shoulders tensing as she heard the approaching footsteps and distant murmurs as the shattered glass was discovered. "We'll need backup if we intend to take the ship."
Naita gave an amused snort. "if you believe so, layl. I will meet you above deck." And with that the viper disappeared through the doorway in a whisper of dark cloth and silent footsteps.
Celeste only felt a bit sorry for the unsuspecting guards when she heard the first screams around the corner.
Slipping from the room, Celeste took a moment to glance down the narrow hall before wrapping around the way opposite from which she came. Taking the creaking stairs two at time, she quickly began her descent down into the depths of the ship, making her way towards the locked door at the base. The dozing guard outside jumped at her approach. He scrambled upright, fumbling for the dagger on his hip as he opened his mouth to give a shout of warning. It never came as Celeste easily overtook him, his bones snapping beneath her hands like crumpled paper.
Letting his body slump to the side, she threw the door open and was met with the overwhelming scent of unwashed humans and the surprised gasps of the dirty but familiar occupants taking in her arrival.
From the back, Layla let out a loud sob of relief.
"I have no time to explain," Celeste began rapidly, quickly assessing the most efficient means of freeing them as all eyes landed on her with disbelief and desperation. "But if you want to live then you need to trust me. We're going to have to fight our way out."
Frowning, she knelt and examined the chains of the person closes to her, young Eoin Lingard. Like the others, his wrists were shackled in iron, with chains leading to a ring bolted into the floor. She had no doubt that the guard in the doorway held the key to each of the chains, but the time it would take to undo each one-
Eoin watched as she lifted his shackled hands, soft brown eyes wide. With a snap, she broke off his chains, the iron peeling apart in her grip. The boy nearly squeaked in surprise as the twisted metal crumbled from his wrists.
"Eoin," she began, catching the gaze of the young fisherman who had tailed her like a puppy at the docks, "Get the key out of the guard's pocket and start unshackling the others. We need to move quickly."
He immediately nodded his understanding, his familiar crooked grin breaking across his freckled face as he scrambled to his feet and rushed off to the doorway, his long legs carrying him across the room in a few strides.
At least he wouldn't betray her immediately.
Celeste went around the small cabin, seeing to the captives' chains and receiving various thanks and praises as she freed each resident of Vanica. The humility and kindness many of them had never shown her.
She paid it no attention.
Kneeling before Layla, Celeste made quick work of the iron about the woman's wrists before being stopped as Layla laid a grimy, mud caked hand on her forearm.
"Thank you," she murmured, her blue eyes bright as she looked up at her savior. "I was wrong about you. About your . . . kind."
Celeste shook her head and helped the woman up. "Later," she told her firmly but not rudely, "we'll have time for this discussion later." If they made it out of this in one piece.
Layla nodded before rushing off to help the others, each searching for some kind of weapon to wield.
Celeste had freed all of the captives, many familiar faces but some that were not, before she knelt by the last prisoner who leaned against the wall, watching her fondly.
"I'm sorry," Celeste began gently as she broke the chains from Pennelope's wrists, her once-beautiful blue gown a dingy brown. "I wish I could have done something to stop this-"
Pennelope's arms immediately enveloped the girl, the woman's shoulders quivering as she pulled her close.
"I could hit you for being such a fool," she hissed, her voice shaking, "risking yourself in such a way for us." She pushed back from Celeste, her pretty round face soaked in tears. "I'm so glad you are in one piece, but if we survive this expect an earful, child."
Celeste could only smile in response, offering her hand out to the seamstress and helping her rise. "I would expect nothing less."
Celeste let out one slow breath as she held her hand up, motioning for the men she had selected from the captives to halt, giving them each a moment to right themselves. She had chosen the biggest and the strongest to follow her, knowing they would face their greatest challenge on deck where the majority or the guards and crew awaited them.
She had sent the other captives to clear the hallways and rooms in the hold, to subdue and keep the maids and other general servants in place while they faced the guards. There had been no signs of Naita in below deck.
She could only hope the naagalata had fared well and awaited her above.
Glancing over her shoulder she locked eyes with Eoin, bearing a half-rotted oar as a weapon, before nodding, indicating for them to move forward.
Inching up the stairs she caught the first tell-tale sounds of combat, the clashing of metal and screams of dying men-
Brandishing her dinner knife, Celeste rushed the door, the sailors from Vanica bellowing their war cries behind her. Stepping on deck, she stopped short, her eyes widening in disbelief.
Naita had obliterated the entirety of the guard force aboard the ship, easily forty armed men. Most lay sprawled across the deck, their armor torn to ribbons no doubt by the whip that Naita bore, either moaning in agony or lying silent and still.
Said whip lay discarded near the mast, however, as Celeste spotted her new friend at the rail of the ship. Her hood obscured her features as she picked up her final adversary, a large, squealing guard, by the scruff of his neck and promptly tossed him overboard, his surprisingly girlish scream silenced by a loud splash.
The female simply brushed her gloved hands against one another before pivoting on her heel and catching sight of Celeste.
The assassin offered her a cheeky grin, fangs flashing in the moonlight as she propped her bloodied hands on her hips.
"I told you help would be unnecessary, layl."