8. winter is coming (1/2)
summary: winter would soon descend on summersea and, with it, sandry's war for the throne. one by one,
iar, daja, and tris take the last steps of their journeys to her side in the darkness.
a/n this was written for tpe's bingo, which is still open and just about to start up its halloween challenge, if you want to go to my profile for the link to it!
i've also been told that this series is getting confusing, which is fair enough. here is the chronological list of everything that's going down. always us, lies the promises hold and this one, winter is coming, are the only ones that aren't strictly linear, so they are on the list more than once. if you feel the need to reread to get into this story, the bolded stories are the only ones you need, context wise, to make sense of it all.
always us (section 1)
we, like the ghosts have no memories
lies the promises hold (daja)
the incessant dissolving of silk
^lies the promises hold (sandry)
^lies the promises hold (
iar)
^winter is coming (
iar)
if you do, if you don't
rise up above it
^always us (section 2, sandry)
^always us (section 2,
iar)
long live
^always us (section 2, daja)
^winter is coming (daja)
^lies the promises hold (tris)
^always us (section 2, tris)
^winter is coming (tris)
^winter is coming (sandry)
fighting a war that's already lost
^always us (section 3)
iar opened his eyes to darkness. his arms were pinned to his sides by the damp, curved hull on one side, and the rough canvas covering a crate on the other. his hip was past pain, numb from immobility.
he had been hiding in this small space for nearly a week. with the sailors on watch for stowaways after toad's discovery just outside the harbour of hajra,
iar hadn't dared move except when driven by thirst, and then only in the darkest hours of the night. he slept fitfully. it was one of those
ief respites of unconsciousness from which he had just awakened. his hand was gripped around the handle of his knife and he loosened it... incrementally. he wouldn't be thrown overboard without a fight, like toad. he had fought for his life for more than a year in the convict docks. he had fought for this chance to stowaway and escape that dead-end fate. if it ended here, it would be after a fight they'd remember.
but no footsteps approached his hiding place. instead, there was an echoing, grating noise, a splash outside the ship, and the rhythmic, metallic clang-clink-clang of a chain.
they were lowering the anchor.
iar shifted his weight, pressing his lips between his teeth and squeezing his eyes tightly as blood rushed to his legs. if they were going to be unloading, he couldn't be found hidden in the ship's cargo.
slipping out from behind the crate,
iar wasted a few precious moments giving his body time to adjust to the movement. his head spun a bit, his legs tingled painfully.
iar scuttled around the cargo, making his way towards the ladder leading to deck by memory and touch. he scrambled up, pulling himself up into the fresh, salty air above. it was night, but the stars and few burning lanterns seemed too
ight, even as much as they were a relief. the darkness had taken on a life of its own, almost, as it surrounded him in his solitude.
iar crept onto deck, trying to keep close to cover. they weren't in harbour, he noticed. he could see only the darkness of the ocean all around the ship.
above him, there was a shout. spinning, he looked up at the sailor leaning over the railing.
"who're you, then?" the sailor shouted, already moving towards the stair to the lower deck.
iar ran.
there was nowhere to hide, or escape to, of course. but as he avoided the sailors, alerted by the spotter's shouting,
iar tried to think of a way to survive it. he had fought his entire life just to make it another day. he didn't know how to give in and beg, like toad had. instead, surrounded on three sides,
iar
andished his knife, and teeth in a grin.
"come on, then," he panted. he glanced to his right to track one of the sailors who was trying to stop the bleeding on his arm as he crept closer, and
iar saw the lights. they had put down anchor outside the harbour. they must be waiting for daylight to sail the rest of the way,
iar thought, but the lights were close.
he couldn't win a fight against them all. he could stay alive only one way.
iar threw himself forward. he slashed in a small semi-circle to his right as he threw out his left elbow, clearing a space in the circle of men around him. sprinting to the railing, he was up and over before anyone could catch hold.
his stomach flew into his throat. his arms waved, trying to find balance against the pull of gravity. he looked down at the water below and closed his eyes as he hit it forcefully. darkness surrounded him.
daja opened her eyes to darkness. she was careful not to move as she listened to the sounds of the summersea prison. she had made that mistake before, and pain had nearly stolen her consciousness before she could calm enough to control it,
eathe through it.
slowly, she turned her head to one side, the musty straw sharp as it poked into her cheek. she closed her eyes when after straining against the darkness she saw no new food or water had been placed in her cell. no matter how vigorously duke frantsen's prison torturers had been in their duties, daja would drag herself up for the meager – and random – rations. as it were, she tried to settle back into sleep, ignoring the burning of her ribs around each
eath, the throbbing of her leg, the sharp lines on her back. she needed to build her strength against infection and disease, and all she could do for that was save her energy.
she could tell them how to make the boomstones and it would all stop –
no. she was too stubborn, she supposed, and it would get her killed, but she wouldn't be used for someone who wanted power for themselves, not again. \
there were noises in the hallway, right outside the door, where they slipped in through the bars, and then the door was unlocked. daja pulled herself into a seated position. it didn't do much for her dignity, made sweat
eak out on her forehead and
ought her
eath in uncontrolled little pants, but she refused to be caught completely defenceless when they came for her. it would do nothing to try to stand and fall, so this was the best she had.
her guards were not the ones to walk in.
they did not
ing a light with them, and all daja had were impressions. the girl who walked in first was slender, short though she held herself like she had height, and like daja should believe it, making her most likely noble born. her hair and skin were light, daja thought, though they were covered with a large hood, masking her features in deep shadows. the boy entered behind her, sliding along the wall so no one could get behind him. his hand hovered obviously around his belt, though daja couldn't see the weapon he carried. his gaze hovered even more obviously on the girl standing in the middle of the room.
they couldn't be more than a year in difference between them and daja herself, and neither had any reason to be here. no guards entered behind them and daja felt her interest, and nerves, pique. she stilled a fidget, kept her gaze steady on the girl instead of flicking between the two of them. her ribs throbbed painfully.
she knew better than to get into an argument with someone who had more power than she did. it was a pointless exercise: she had learned that winning meant exactly nothing when the other person could do what they wanted at the end of it, regardless. so, daja gave them nothing, keeping her expression calm-water empty as she met the girl's gaze squarely, unafraid.
(okay, she was afraid, but if they didn't know it, they couldn't use it against her)
"i know what the duke wants from you," the girl said, her voice quiet in the shadows, but cool with confidence. "i am willing to take you from here, and meet the price you name for you to not give him exactly that. we are planning to make things very ... unpleasant for my cousin in the next few months, and it would be unpleasant indeed, for us, if you were to share what you know with him."
"you want what i know?" daja asked, forcing her voice into polite disinterest when it wanted to shake. "the line would run from here to capchen if everyone knew the secrets i held. you kaqs don't understand. i am not selling myself as a weapon. you can do what you wish and it will not change my mind."
there was a long moment of silence. daja steadied her rushed
eathing. finally, the girl nodded. daja rocked back in surprise. "i don't want my cousin to have your boomstones more than i need to have them myself," the girl explained. "if what you want is to leave and never come back, that is what i will help you do," she said, as if daja should just believe her, daja thought incredulously, as if she – against all reason – didn't. "we –" she glanced back at the boy, bit her lip. "we will make due." when she looked back at daja, she smiled, a tiny tremulous thing, and daja felt a twist in her belly.
"she's good for her word," the boy said grudgingly, as if he had better things to do. "wouldn't say it 'bout no bag easy."